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Show 4 The bus station was crowded with lonely Christmas travelers. They were easily separated from the small groups of people who had come to the station to welcome someone home. The greeters were animated, full of conversation. Most of the travelers were tired and weary. Some read listlessly. Others rested their heads on shoulders or against the high, curved back of a bench. Billy Halliday wasn't waiting for a bus, or for anybody. He had arrived two hours earlier, before word came that snow in the mountains had brought service almost to a standstill. Buses were late, some of them had turned back to Junction City and to other spots. It was the worst Christmas storm in history. The big snow had put a kink in Billy's plans. Rather, perhaps, it had made it difficult for him to make up his mind about where he was going to spend this Christmas Eve. He had stepped on the bus at Junction City with the idea that he could be taking a bus ride because he had nothing else to do. Once he got here, if he wanted to do so, he could step on another bus and go back to his hotel at Junction City. Now, the buses were running late or not at all. It had been ten years but, if he hung around much longer, someone would recognize him. He was fortunate that no one had before now. He had seen Susie Johnson and had turned the other way. Bill Brown had walked by and he had turned his back. Once spotted, he couldn't do anything but go through with it. Announcement And then the word came over the public address system. No more buses until snow plows clear the roads. That could be hours. Billy Halliday walked out the side door and turned his steps toward Elm Street. Cars went by, but no one looked his way. He was just another soldier home on Christmas leave. Everything looked the same, he thought, even in the darkness. Mrs. Cable still kept her entire house lit up. Old Man Dabney still had lights on every tree in his spacious yard. And there was Ann's house, set back away from the street, the lights of a Christmas tree blinking through the huge picture window. He was remembering ten years ago. Ten years ago tonight, He had walked down this same street, toward the bus station, one small suitcase in his hand. That was the night he thought he had said goodbye to Hillvale forever. Nobody, not even his parents, seemed to care about him or his ideas. They didn't like his beard, his clothes. They had kicked him out of school. Most of his friends, even Ann, had shunned him. She would have taken him back on her terms, but he hadn't liked the terms. Decision He had walked out that Christmas Eve, telling only his parents that he was leaving. He thought he owed them that much. He remembered how his mother had pleaded, had tried to make him see things her way. He remembered how dad, having long given up trying to change him, had only grasped his hand and wished him luck. That had been all of it. except for the one letter. He had written from New York to tell them he was all right. One letter had arrived before he changed his address and decided to make the break clean. He still carried it in his shirt pocket. "Dear Son: I don't know where we went wrong or, perhaps, more truthfully, why things went wrong for the three of us. I know you had to go. You have our love, always. Your mother says she will burn a candle each Christmas until you return. She thinks one day you will come back to us. I hope that she is right Your dad." He stopped now before the house. Lights were on here and there the livingroom, the kitchen and upstairs. His room. There was a light in his room. Had they thrown all of his old stuff away and used the room for something else? Maybe they no longer lived here. Maybe But, there it was, in the hall window, burning faintly. He came slowly up the walk. He stopped on the porch and carefully lit a cigarette. There wasn't much of the candle left It would barely last through the night. He wondered if there had been only one candle. He could hear the soft strains of Christmas music coming from upstairs, from his old room. Could it be the same, he 1 g) it 4 o Uinstmast Seals Vr 1 ifW'tiinrfMtfKS, i Serviceman Assigned" To L'ellis AFB LAS VEGAS, Nev. - U.S. Air Force Technical Sergeant Kenneth Ken-neth K. Johnston, son of Mrs. Anne L. Burmeister.Orem, Utah, has arrived for duty at Nellis AFB, Nev. Sergeant Johnston, a weapons maintenance technician, is assigned as-signed to a unit of the Tactical Air Command. He previously served at Udorn RoyalThaiAFB, Thailand. The sergeant is a 1952 graduate gradu-ate of Lincoln High School. His, wife, Barbara, is the daughter of Mrs. Mathilda Hung, 1841 W. Turney Ave., Phoenix, Ariz. Orem-Geneva Times Thursday, December 3, 1970. EABLT A1IERICAH if JEFF CONGDON, star of the Utah Stars Basketball team and Bob Elett, captain of the Salt Lake Golden Eagles hockey team, this week were named Christmas SealSports Ambassadors by Lyman Smart, Bountiful, president of the UtahTuberculosis and Health Association. As sports ambassadors for the 1970 Christmas Seal Campaign they will help carry the important message of the Christmas Seal fight against tubercolosis, emphysema, air pollutionand cigarette smoking, smok-ing, to the citizens of Utah. They join with Rico Carty who is the national Christmas Seal Sports Ambassador. Carty is the Atlanta Braves outfielder who personally conquered his right against tuberculosis two years ago and went on to win the 1970 National League batting title. TINSEL STORY The storu about little spiders and how they helped trim the tree, is loved by children. One Christmas morning after the tree had been trimmed, is when it happened, and children were waiting wait-ing to see it. Spiders are very curious, so tlwy wanted to seethe tree too. Looking at it from the floor would never do, so they must see it right up close. The spiders crept all over the tree until they had satisfied themselves completely. Alas! Everywhere they went they left cobwebs! And when the little Christ Child came to bless the tree, lie was dismayed. He loved the little spiders, for they are Cod's creatures too. But He knew the mother who had trimmed the tree for the little children wouldn't feel the same. So He touched the webs and they all turned to silver. Ever since that time, according to the story, Christmas trees have been him" with shining tinsel. One of our early American recipes is Indian Pudding. It was sometimes made without spice, unlike the recipes that evolved in later years. Traditional Indian Pudding usually wheyed. In the following recipe, the pudding is baked in a hot-water bath and there's no wheying; instead a soft texture prevails. 4 cups milk cup enriched yellow cornmeal V teaspoon salt A large egg stick butter Vi cup dark molasses Vi cup sugar Heat 3 cups of the milk until bubbles appear around the edge remove from heat. Stir together in a small bowl the corn-meal, corn-meal, salt and remaining cup of milk. Pour into scalding hot milk, stirring constantly. Bring to a boil over moderate heat, stirring constantly cook until thickened, about 5 minutes. Beat egg and vigorously stir a little of the hot cornmeal mixture into the egg. Stir egg mixture back into cornmeal mixture, add butter, molasses and sugar. Pour into a buttered Vi quart casserole. Set casserole into baking pan with hot water within an inch from top. Bake uncovered in preheated 275 degree oven for about three hours; top will be a rich caramel color. Pudding may be served warm or chilled it will remain soft in texture and will not whey. wondered. Mom had always told him that he would "wear it out" if he played it every hour of the day. He tried the door handle. It was open. He had thought, now they were older, they would at least lock their door at night. Impulsively, he picked up the candle. The saucer in which it rested was warm to the touch, but he hardly noticed. Halfway up the stairs, he realized he had failed to shut the door. "Don, I do believe the wind has blown the door open. Please go and shut it It might blow out my candle." The voice caused him to pause, off-balance, one foot reaching upward. "You and your candle. I think that candle has probably burned itself out by now. But, I'll humor you." Meeting There he was at the top of the stairs. He hadn't changed much. A little more gray in the hair, perhaps. He looked at Billy and a smile turned at the corners of his mouth. But, he didn't say a word. He just motioned for Billy to come up the stairway and stepped away from the door. But not so soon Billy didn't see the glimmer of a tear in his eye. She was sitting before a Christmas tree in the corner, adjusting lights here and there "Mom, I have your candle here. I . . ." In that first moment of recognition, he thought he saw the brightness of a thousand holiday lights in her eyes. "Billy. . . ." It was all she could say, but nothing else needed to be said. He crossed the room, reaching down to tenderly take her by the hand and raise her upward, feeling as he did her arms crushing about him. Billy . . . Billy." And then dad was there, too, pounding him on the shoulders. "Look at you, will you. Look at him, mom. Just take a good look at that son of yours." Discovery Filially, they set him free. His eyes took in the familiar things j about the room. Nothing was changed. Except for the Christmas tree, the room was as he had always known it. No, there was one other thing. There, in his favorite chair in the corner sat a very pretty girl. "Ann?" "Yes, Billy. It's me. Just paying my annual Christmas visit to your folks. I do it every year." "Every year on Christmas Eve," mom said. "We play a little game, as if you were here, as it used to be." "I'm here," Billy said, not knowing what else to say. Dad reached down and picked up a Christmas gift from beneath the tree. "You're here, so you get to open the first present. This one is for you. from Ann." Billy hesitated. The gift was proferred again. "Open it, son, we have a Christmas to celebrate. Later, we'll talk. Now, we'll r have our Christmas." Billy tore the wrappings away. "O.K.," he said with a jaunty , air. "Now, let us have our Christmas." As he sent the ribbons and paper flying here and there, Billy Halliday felt ten years younger. He wondered if he had ever been away at all. He was aware suddenly of the blinking lights on the Christmas tree on and off, on and off. It made him - think, for some reason, that life is stop-and-go, with warning lights at points where decisions were to be made. He wondered . about Ann, about what life had brought to her in the last ten years. He wondered if the buses were running on schedule again. He thought that, at least for this moment, he was completely happy. He was no longer a Lonely Christmas Traveler. The JUet Vxcuh ?tea, (facta Svwaye Sate Utah Counties' First "YOU CAN BUY ANYTHING AT THE FLEA CRCUS" ANTIQUES & COLLECTORS ITEMS BRASS PRODUCTS LEATHER GOODS JEWELRY & RINGS CANDLES CLOTHING PAINTINGS B HAIRPIECES & WIGS t DECOUPAGE Excellent Xmas Gifts 348 W. Center - next to Mary's College ot Beauty Anyone interested in merchandising unique items call Mr. Benson at 373-5585 la H TREASURE! OPEN TIL 8 MON.-WED.-FRI. fiMY You paid a good price for ii when you bought it new, and it's been with you through "thick and thin", surely your old carpet must be worth something! some-thing! . 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