Boxing Day update: Ugly necklace strengthens bond among four women

Or will it be a birthday? Or Mothers Day? 

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The question of Christmas for my mother, sister and I will be who will open a beautifully wrapped box to discover "The Empress Carlotta."

I wrote about the Empress in 2006 and 2008, and several readers have asked that I update the tale of the gaudy, giant — about 3½ inches in diameter — medallion my mother, sister and I have been passing among ourselves for about 35 years.

Here's the backstory: The Empress was originally a gift to me from my aunt in St. Louis. As teens, my sister and I waited expectantly for my aunt's gifts. She consulted the personal shopper at the upscale Stix Baer & Fuller department store and gave us perfect gifts that were precisely what we — or any teen-age girl — wanted.

Our aunt's box was the first thing we wanted to open on Christmas morning.

When I was a senior in high school, I received the medallion, which was so heavy it caused neck strain and so ugly it was painful to look at.

While I was disappointed, my family, as always, seized the moment to create a joke and make light of a situation.

My family named it "The Empress Carlotta" after a Dick Van Dyke show in which Rob gives Laura a huge, hideous necklace that is supposed to be of historic significance.

Rob is thrilled with his purchase, which he thinks Laura will adore, much as my aunt must have. I, like Laura, was stunned and disappointed and I didn't want to hurt the feelings of the gift giver. I stashed it in a drawer.

When I left for college and dumped the medallion in the trash, my mother gave the Empress a reprieve. She wrapped it and gave it to me as a gift. Somehow my sister joined the circle and since then, the three of us have been swapping the medallion at birthdays and, especially, Christmas.

A couple of years ago my mother pulled my twentysomething daughter into the mix, tucking the Empress tucked into a set of pretty closet organizing boxes. Its last known whereabouts is with my daughter.

We never know when a package containing the Empress will show up, what the package will look like or whose name will be on it.

Much of the merriment is surprising the recipient. The Empress can show up in an elaborately decorated gift box, stuffed into a stocking or tucked into the toe of a pair of house shoes.

The trick is to make sure the chain — the links of which are surely as thick as Jacob Marley's — is silent. The rattling would spoil the surprise. For that reason, stuffing the Empress into games and puzzles is popular.

One year, I cut Bubble Wrap packaging into a rectangle, placed the Empress inside and taped the chain to it. I then wrapped it in white tissue paper, folding the paper precisely. I put it in one of the white fabric bags with the red drawstring in which a Coach brand wallet had come. I wish I had seen my sister’s face and laughed with her as she opened the fancy Christmas paper to discover the Empress, rather than a Coach accessory.

The Empress exchange is especially enjoyable if there is a new friend, spouse or significant other in the mix who doesn't know the story of the medallion. The belly laugh of the recipient and the shocked looks on the faces of those unfamiliar with our playful tradition are priceless.

Most family members — especially the husbands, beaus and sons — don't fully understand the significance of our silliness with the Empress. Swapping the Empress is our tradition that strengthens our bond.

The four of us live in three states. My mother and sister live in Oklahoma and my daughter lives in Florida, but she will be with me today. Though we live states apart, the Empress helps strengthen bond and will help us all be together today.

My aunt may have felt she was giving a teen-age girl a perfect, hip gift. In fact, she gave gave four women the perfect gift of years of laughter and love.

Now did my daughter give the Empress? And if she did, which box is it in?