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Show Interpreting Christmas Most youngsters believe that there is a benevolent old saint somewhere, far to the north, who locks up his toy factory fac-tory on Christmas eve and travels around the world with a bottomless pack of toys. Children's eyes hold a little of the glory of the Bethlehem star-shine as they hang up their stockings on the magic night. Maybe they are hungry. Cold, too, perhaps. And disappointed. But Santa Claus won't fail them, they tell themselves. They remember that he has stood on the corner and asked them exactly what they wanted. He has pocketed their letters. They saw him do it. Secure in their dreams, they go to sleep. But a great many children are going to have lumps in their throats when they waken on Christmas morning unless un-less we get busy. They are going to be hurt and baffled when they find limp stockings where they had expected to be so plump and gay and merry. They ape going to bury their heads in the blankets to crush the sobs while they wonder why they were forgotten. And ever after the tinsel gleam will mean nothing. A world in which Santa Claus will take all of his toys to some body else can never be quite so lovely to a little boy or girl again. It is up to us to see that no wistful youngsters wonder why Santa Claus crossed their addresses from his calling list. If we interpret the spirit of giving as we should, every stocking will be fat and every child's voice will be as lilting as a Christmas carol. The large number of children who are dependent on our generosity for their faith in Christmas brings back the thought that this is a season of giving, not of exchanging. The wise men didn't give their gifts to each other. They brought them to one who couldn't repay them in like coin. It takes suoh a little to make a child happy. A doll or a horn or spinning top and a candy cane for the top of the stocking. But he won't forget. After a while when he is older and understands that Santa Claus "is only the spirit of Christmas, he will remember gratefully that life didn't fail him. He won't be afraid to trust it again. But if his stocking is bare not all the tinsel glamour' of all the evergreen trees In the whole wide world can ever finite bring back the charm. |