The Catholic times. [volume] (Columbus, Ohio) 1951-current, 1957-12-20


went UP in the stores and on the
streets, | began to feel a little
homesick. It's bad enough, l told
myself, to be off alone like this,
but Anita shouldn't make it worse
with that silly tug-of-war over
our gifts. And ! made an effort
to sign a truce.
Were trying TO keep TO q
budget" reminded her. $50
wouldn't il be sensible 10 work
out on agreement on how much
we should spend for each 9th.
er's present and both OF Us
promise not TO 90 over it?"
Budget Christmas?" She gave
me her special wide-eyed look
that made me feel like Scrooge's
eldest daughter. "Oh Joannie.
how can you ever suggest such
a thing? Christmas isn't an ex-
change, it's a givingl You know
I'd be perfectly happy with moth
ing from you but a card and a
kiss"
Happy, / though waspishly,
you'd be ecstatic. As long as your
present can beat my present, it's
a merry, merry Christmas.
We didn't discuss the matter
again. Resignedly, l watched her
each morning pack sandwiches
into a bag, knew that her lunch
money was being diverted to
Christmas spending.
Resignedly, / went into a de-
partment store, hurried past all
the snowy expensive items and
bought the warn red flannel robe
that I knew she needed and that
| could afford. Resignedly, then,
/ waited for Christmas Eye, with
its renewal of defeat.
But suddenly, at the eleventh
hour, ! was handed The key TO
victory. The week preceding
Christmas my firm had . rush
Job that kept me working late
nights and ell day Saturday.
Then The afternoon before
Christmas the agency head call
ed me into his office, wished
me . happy holiday and hand.
cd me . thick envelope.
Payment for overtime plus a
small bonus, he explained. When
/ got back to my desk ! opened
it and found a poinsettia-decorat-
ed card enclosing seven crisp
ten-dollar bills. Seventy dollars. !
spread them out fanwise on my
desk top. Seventy dollars! The
words made a little carol in my
brain. Anita hasn't worked any
overtime. The government does
not give bonuses. She couldn't
possibly have saved this much.
This year I'm bound to win.
This year III be Santa Claus.
AS soon as the office closed !
almost ran the four blocks from
my building to the department
store, lodging the bundle-laden
last-minute shoppers. Breathless-
ly, l sped again to the lingerie
section. This time l ignored the
plain, the tailored, the practical.
Instead / directed my attention
to the froth and folly, the items
clearly designed for the girl who
has everything. Finally I settled
for n filmy pink chiffon gown
and negligee trimmed with os-
trich feathers and a price tag that
claimed the entire contents of my
bonus envelope.
Anita was in the kitchenette
cooking our traditional Christ
mas vigil oyster stew when l
reached home. She gave me 4
CHEEKY wave and l waved cheer
lily back, then skipped into the
bedroom to wrap my trophy in
gay paper and bright ribbons.
With a sense of snug satisfaction
/ carried it to the closet and
placed it tenderly on top of my
earlier, now disdained purchase.
It's back to the exchange counter
for you day after tomorrow, l
mentally tainted the red flannel
robe. No bargain giving for joan
ME this Christmas.
Supper was q happy meal, In
spite of its reminders of home
so far away. And after supper we
trimmed the tree whose height
and broad branches overpowered
our tiny living room. We were,
it seemed, the closest we have
ever been.
Each time our eyes met we sx.
changed little secret smiles. And
Anita. rs she moved about with
the tinsel and shining balls, stop
ped often to give me little loving
pats. She was, ! knew, cherishing
the knowledge that she had
bought me something special,
savoring in advance my gratitude
and pleasure. And for the first
time ] was able to respond whole
heartedly to her smiles and pats,
since l had my own private
knowledge to cherish.