When I was in college I worked part-time at the circulation desk of the local public library. One day when I was checking in magazines, the cover of the new Rolling Stone caught my eye. It pictured an up-and-coming band whose debut album I’d recently bought and liked, so I set the magazine aside and read the article on my break before returning it to the shelf. The band was Counting Crows.

For years now I’ve been kicking myself for not having bought my own copy of that issue. Not only was the article long and detailed, but it included a number of good pictures and plenty of anecdotes and observations recounted by Adam Duritz himself. The thing is, there was no way for me to know then, back in the summer of 1994, that the Counting Crows would turn out to be my number-one favorite band of all time. I mean, I knew I liked them, but I didn’t know I loved them, and by the time I knew I loved them the magazine was long gone from the newsstands. It was a woeful loss.

Several weeks ago I related this sad tale to Helena and she–a music lover herself–mourned with me in a genuine spirit of commiseration. And, unbeknownst to me, she plotted. Yesterday afternoon she came to my house and presented me with a gift. You guessed it–a like-new copy of Rolling Stone from June 30, 1994, Adam Duritz front and center on the cover and the article inside even better than I remembered it. That magazine instantly became one of my most-prized possessions.

And she says she’s no good at gift-giving.