Without Even Praying, A Special Prayer Was Answered One Blizzardy Christmas Eve

This past Christmas Eve I returned to my hometown of Rochester, New York. I have been residing in Los Angeles for the last decade or so, and it was the first time I had visited Rochester at Christmas in too many years, and it was a wonderful vacation across the board.

My new book, The 12 Best Secrets of Christmas, which records my holiday memories growing up in Rochester in the 1960s and ’70s, had just been published. I hosted a local book signing at the Pittsford Barnes & Noble in Rochester, which I am thrilled to say was a sold-out, standing-room-only event. And I somehow managed to see as many family members and friends as possible during the trip, stopping at most likely every Italian restaurant that Rochester has to offer.

But through it all, I knew I had to visit my parents' gravesite, even though I know their spirits are soaring joyfully in Heaven. It was just a matter of respect to “visit” them on Earth.

Unfortunately, or not — and I say “or not,” because in the end, it really wasn’t unfortunate at all — there was a blizzard on Christmas Eve; a wintery, swift-winded blizzard; the kind you see at the beginning of the classic TV special, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Combine that with the gravesite scene from any rendition of A Christmas Carol, and the…