Dear Friends, Family, Trekkies, and fans of the Backstreet Boys
Warm greetings from Highlands Ranch, Colorado where we’re writing from our “Holiday Command Center” where mismatched socks reign supreme and the neighborhood taco truck is, like us, in warp-ready standby.
This year (2025) started out with Corporate America politely coughing into its fist and saying, “Sooo… funny story, we kinda miss seeing your faces. Like, in person. At desks. Starting now.” Covid was ancient history, yet half the workforce had turned “Work From Home” into an art form: Zoom shirt + pajama pants, “working” from the beach, or perfecting the load-of-laundry-between-meetings speed-run. Byron’s employer, Nelnet, joined the stampede and told managers to set a shining example by dragging their butts back to the office at least two days a week starting in January. Byron dutifully showed up, only to discover the office snacks were a sad bowl of sad off-brand mints. Toni, who’d been in-office through the entire plague (mask, Lysol, the works), offered exactly zero sympathy. Her response was a shrug, a smirk, and “Welcome to my 2020, loser. Enjoy the mints.”
In March, Toni, after 31 years of marriage and tattoos commemorating her mom, her best friend, and a Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Latte, Toni turned to Byron and asked, “What tattoo should I get for us?” Byron’s brain blue-screened for a solid minute. After frantic negotiations, they landed on the Six of Spades, commemorating his love of magic. Two weeks after getting her new card tattoo, Byron had already built an entire routine around it.
In April, Byron got promoted to the coolest-sounding job title ever at Nelnet, Manager of R&D Innovation, which is fancy corporate-speak for “professional dreamer who gets paid to pitch chaos.” Byron’s 5-year mission (he hopes) is to find the next billion-dollar idea. His actual pitches so far: Couch Potato Delivery (not food delivery, actual potatoes) and Pet Rock Mortuary & Cremation (we offer tiny urns, memorial plaques, and sandbox scattering ceremonies for those pet rocks you didn’t know what to do with.) The board’s reaction has been… polite head-nodding followed by immediately buying another boring Canadian loan-servicing company and launching a bank like it’s 1997. Byron remains undeterred. He’s confident that one day upper management will see the light, or at least the profit potential in weaponized potatoes. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither was the NEW Pet Rock empire.
Around May, and after hearing friends rave about the Cosmosphere in Hutchinson, Kansas, Byron launched a full-court press to get Toni to road trip there. His sales pitch? “They’re opening a brand-new Mall of America!” Toni, who should absolutely know better after 31 years, fell for it hook, line, and sinker. Turns out Hutchinson’s Cosmophere is a world-class space museum that somehow sweet-talked NASA into handing over treasures back when nobody realized they’d be worth millions: the Liberty Bell 7 (pulled from the ocean with the Discovery Channel), other space flown capsules, similar Russian rockets and capsules, and even an SR-71 Blackbird just chilling in the lobby like it wandered in for a quick coffee.
While in Hutchinson, a giant billboard informed us the town also has a working salt mine tour. Byron immediately deployed Phase Two of the con, “The shopping is underground. Very exclusive.” Down we went, 650 feet in a rattling elevator, hard hats and all. Byron sang “Sixteen Tons and what do you get…” Toni deadpanned, “Salt. You get salt.” Marriage in one exchange.
On the way home, feeling slightly guilty about the nonexistent mall, Byron offered a peace-treaty detour to Dodge City. The place has a perfect replica Wild West town that’s secretly an excellent museum. Toni bee-lined for the old-timey soda fountain while Byron got cornered by a guy in a ten-gallon hat who did impossible card moves. Naturally the guy challenged Byron. Naturally Byron borrowed the deck, turned to Toni, and said, “Help me out here… stand up, catch a card when I shoot ’em in the air…” Cue the usual marital chaos, cards everywhere, Toni protesting she wasn’t ready, both of us “giving up.” Cowboy sighs, “Six of spades.” Toni slowly rolls up her sleeve, reveals the tattoo. The entire saloon went dead quiet except for a chorus of “Well I’ll be damned” and “How in tarnation?” Redemption achieved. Pretty sure the card sharp is still telling that story in Dodge City saloons today.
Possibly as a direct reaction to Byron’s “Mall of America” lie, Toni decided she’d finally wanted to attend her 45th high school reunion in Endwell, NY. The July trip would be Toni’s first trip back for a high school reunion. Toni asked Byron if he’d go with her, and surprisingly he said “Absolutely!” Turns out Byron’s “yes” came with a sneaky plan. Toni’s reunion in Endwell, NY was only a 4 hours drive from Ticonderoga, pencil capital of the world and, more importantly, home of the brand-new “The Star Trek Set Experience”. Byron, a lifelong Trekkie who once commanded the playground as Captain Kirk, basically begged for the “minor” detour. In a moment of weakness or temporary insanity, Toni agreed. Toni did, however, refuse to attend the experience dressed in uniform.
The Set Experience featured absolutely perfect recreations of the Enterprise bridge, transporter room, engineering, sickbay, and corridors, plus real vintage costumes and props. Byron instantly regressed to his 10-year-old self—beaming around, sitting in the captain’s chair, threatening to engage the corbomite, and whispering “Engage” like no one was watching. Even Toni, who claims zero fandom, was genuinely impressed and only had to pry him away after the third hour.
Leaving Ticonderoga, Toni drove the pair to Endwell. Toni and Byron visited all Toni’s greatest hits: Nirchi’s pizza, Phil’s Chicken House, Cider Mill, and Lupos’ Spiedies (Byron happily seconded every bite). They stayed in a barn-loft Airbnb with a gorgeous view. Nolan and Alexis joined from Philadelphia for a few days of chilling. Toni and Byron hosted a barbecue with Toni’s best friend Robyn and her extended family.
Reunion night meant dinner at the golf course with the Class of ’80. Byron circled like a gossip shark trying to dig up teenage dirt, but Toni had apparently made everyone sign NDAs back in 1980—nobody spilled a thing. Toni got her reunion glow-up, Byron lived his Starfleet dreams, and we all left with full bellies and zero blackmail material.
Apparently, months later, Toni was still bitter a bit bitter about having to fit a Ticonderoga detour into her otherwise perfect high school reunion NY visit. Toni booked and got tickets for Vegas: Backstreet Boys at the Sphere in August. Toni loves to tell anyone who will listen that Byron “loves” the Backstreet Boys (BSB) because he listens to them every day. Byron points out that’s strictly a technicality since it’s on HER alarm clock and he can hardly avoid hearing it. Byron did, however, wish to see the Sphere, and thought he could tolerate “the boys” in order to do so.
As directed by Toni, Byron and Toni showed up to the Sphere in the Instagram-mandated all-white (looking like a low-budget boy-band cult). The SPHERE is a 366-foot glowing disco ball that cost more than some countries’ GDP. Inside we paid $27 for a thimble of vodka and popcorn that tasted like regret. Then the lights dropped and… holy hell. The sound was perfect, the graphics were amazing. Toni was screaming, singing, and otherwise going crazy. At one point Nick Carter surfed a CGI tsunami right over our heads. Even Byron who knows exactly 3 words of one chorus of one song (“Tell me why!”) was grinning like an idiot. The venue was amazing, and even Byron had to admit that for old guys, the Backstreet Boys were not too bad. That said, Byron insists on stating that he believes even a toddler banging a Fisher-Price xylophone could slay there.
In far less happy news, we have to report that in mid-September Toni went in for a routine “huh, that’s weird” checkup, left with a biopsy, and came home with the surprise party nobody wanted- uterine cancer. Our eloquent joint reaction was, “Well, shit” and “How you going to write about that in the Christmas newsletter?”
The good news (as cancer diagnoses go) was that early-stage uterine is essentially the “get-out-of-jail-mostly-free” card. Still, hearing the “C” word was a total shock—we’d be lying if we said it didn’t rock us a little. Once the initial tremor passed, Toni plowed ahead with treatment scheduling, but she also realized something brilliant: cancer had perks. For the two or three weeks leading up to surgery, Toni played the “I have cancer” card with a master’s touch, requesting omelets, dry cleaning pickups, and every other imaginable favor. She tallied approximately 57 uses, with Kyra generously covering seven, and poor Byron helplessly devouring the other fifty.
UC Health finally whisked her in for a full radical hysterectomy, and kicked her out the same day with a whopping three Oxycontin and a cheerful “good luck!” United Healthcare later magnanimously approved three more oxy before drawing the line, so we dropped $11 for another three pills out of our own damn money like it was loose change at a casino.
Pathology came back stage 1b (pretty early), type 2 (medium aggressive). That’s not a golden ticket, but definitely not the express lane to doom. 7 weeks of recovery, 5 slightly overlapping weeks of 5 day a week radiation, and Toni can go back about her normal routines! Toni’s work, meanwhile, has proved they’re the best humans on earth with meal trains, Thursday lunch invasions, and general love-bombing. She’s never been so popular (or so spoiled).
Despite a suddenly packed calendar, Toni and Byron were thrilled to make it to the wedding of Auggie and Annie Mustillo in Scottsdale, AZ. Auggie is the son of dear family friends, Tony and Kim, and we essentially consider the Mustillos family—our kids grew up together, attending the same schools and playing flag football. Toni bubbled over with joy, emphasizing how much this celebration meant to them, and how nothing could have kept them away.
In Scottsdale, the whole family convened for the wedding. A quick Auggie hug (it’s a wedding, blink and you miss the groom), food, drink, dancing, canoli’s, hotdogs, and photobooth pics later (it was a great wedding!), the whole Ferguson crew (Nolan, Alexis, Kyra, Byron, and Toni) hung out for the rest of the weekend in a VRBO with a pool that mocked us at a teeth-chattering 58°.
Now, back in Colorado, we’re two weeks into radiation. Toni’s “little glow-up sessions” have officially started biting. Toni’s skin and stomach are cranky, her energy has packed a bag, left a Post-it that says “brb never,” and is currently napping in another zip code. Current forecast: three more weeks of daily zaps + the internal radiation finale, followed by roughly six bonus weeks of Toni looking at Byron like, “I got radioactive for this marriage, go make the tea.”
P.S. If you’re just finding out about all this from the Christmas letter, sorry for the plot twist. We weren’t hiding it, turns out “Hey, how’s it going?” and “So, cancer” don’t really flow together at barbecues. We love you. We’re okay.
P.P.S GOOD NEWS!!! Nolan and Alexis just barely made the cutoff deadline for this Christmas newsletter. It’s official, as of the weekend we are writing this, Nolan proposed on a sunset coastal beach in Maine, Alexis said.. YES! To say we’re excited is the understatement of the century! Alexis is already family, but this makes us a lot more secure that we’re not going to have to excommunicate Nolan for the foreseeable future.
AND Finally, thank you to each of you reading this. For reading, laughing, showing up, calling, soup-dropping, and simply being there. You are part of our orbit. We couldn’t have navigated this year without you.
May your Christmas be unapologetically magical, your New Year’s resolution outrageously audacious, and may your hot cocoa contain the perfect ratio of cocoa to marshmallows. Beam into 2026 with love, peace, and a little silliness.
With love,
Byron, Toni, and Kyra – The Highlands Ranch Crew
Nolan & Alexis – Honorary Philadelphia Office
Highlands Ranch, Colorado 2025
