My name is Myra Hudson. I am 68 years old.
The ring on my left hand—a band of titanium with a single sapphire, made by my husband Frank in his workshop 20 years ago—is worth more than every diamond in that room combined.
Last Saturday, my son’s bride pointed at this ring in front of 85 guests at a rehearsal dinner and told me to take it off.
She called it cheap junk.
She said I was embarrassing the family.
She had no idea what Frank had built into this ring. She had no idea what I had been carrying on my hand for two decades.
And she had no idea what would happen when I stood up, walked to that microphone, and showed every person in that room exactly what this ring could do.
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
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Frank and I met in the fall of 1980 in a Virginia Tech lecture hall with 200 students.
I sat in the third row.
He sat in the fifth.
We were both studying electrical engineering. I was one of only four women in my cohort, and Frank was the only man who didn’t seem bothered by that number.
He noticed me because I corrected the professor during the second week.
I noticed him because he laughed instead of scowling like the other boys did.
We married in 1984, rented a house with a leaking roof and a furnace that sounded like a freight train, and built a life.
Frank designed circuits—elegant, precise, and sometimes brilliant.
I tested them, broke them, fixed them, and made them better.
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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