Newspapers / Lexington High School Student … / Dec. 19, 1947, edition 1 / Page 7
Part of Lexington High School Student Newspaper / About this page
This page has errors
The date, title, or page description is wrong
This page has harmful content
This page contains sensitive or offensive material
December 19, 1947 THE LEXHIPEP Page 7 Percy Plays Santa —James Tate, ’48 Troop 13 of Glenford, New York, was a thriving organization. As Christ mas rolls around, the boys plan to help the firemen of the city deliver tne toys which were donated by the people and repaired by the flrmen. 'mere were lots of toys but not quite enough to go around to all of the needy children. On Christmas eve morning the thir ty scouts of the troop gather at the scout hut to prepare to deliver the toys, aammy lock speaks to the scoutmaster, “Everybody is here ex- cepc Percy Smythe.’’ Percy was the twelve-year-old son 01 d 01111 yuincy Howaru omythe, the weaiuiy mill-owner. Tnia laimiy lives 111 a nouse, which has a nigh fence around it, near tne center oi tne town. Pew people were allowed to enter. fifteen minutes later Percy comes up waiKing very slowly, spun T'ayior runs to meet him and to hurry nim up a Dit. Spud yells. “Hey,’’ said Percy rather dejectedly. “Haven’t you all gone yet?” •in aw, we were waiting for you,” Spud nappily announced, ; so you coma oe paired orf witn me.’’ Everyone marched down to the lire stauon and jaooered ail me way about Where tney had to go to, deliver the toys. ±-ercy walked along rather quietly, thimmig. He didn't understand why an the enthusiasm about gomg to de- nver a lew toys to those mas whom ne looKed down upon. Pretty soon me group reached tne lire stauon, re ceived tneir toys, and were on on me trip assigned to them. Spud ana Percy were given two red wagons with a numoer ol toys and an address of the home they were to visit, opud whis tled and jaobered as tney walked along the street toward tne home oi tne uHriens. Percy remamed dism- terested. ■pney walked up to the O’Brien house, ana spud prouaiy knocked on me door. 'I'ne door was opened by a thm, smil ing girl. Spud cheeriully explamed tneir mission. She stepped back to allow them to enter. 'i’hey lound there were six children who were all pleasantly surprised. When tne girl who opened the door received a present, she joyously hugged Percy. Percy blushed a deep, crimson red. Amid all the excitement, the mother lifted her hand, and quietness imme diately fell over the group. The mother bowed her head and prayed, “God bless these boys. Let them bring happiness to many others. This is surely one of Thy miracles. We thank Thee in Jesus’ name. Amen.’’ A tear found its way to Percy’s eye. He realized what it meant to give to the poor. When they left, Percy spoke up, “Let’s go to my house. Spud didn’t understand, but he fol lowed. On arriving at his home, Percy went straight to his room, un locked a closet, and beckoned Spud £b look in to it. There was a closet lull of toys which he had hardly used. Percy asked, “Will you help me de liver these? Now that I understand why it is a greater joy to give than to receive, I want to get rid of these. But I don’t know any ol those needy kids.” Spud was stupifled. “Sure, I’ll help ya,” he stammered; “we’ll get a list from the firemen of those people who were missed.” While Spud was calling the fire de partment, Percy was busy packing the toys carefully into boxes making ready to deliver them. He whistled while he worked, and his heart was the lightest It had ever been in the twelve pampered years that he could remember. Christmas Everywhere —JVIartha Harbinson, ’48 We are all aware ol the kind of Christmas we have, but have we ever thought about how people in other places spend their Christmas? In far off Alaska, traditionally known as the home of Santa Claus, they have so much snow they have to dig themselves out to get out of the house. Regardless of the snow and temperature, Christmas is Christ mas so long as the spirit prevails. Prom Mexico we find the Pinata party as a part of the Christmas cel ebration. Tne Pinata is a pottery jar filled with goodies covered with gay colors. It is fastened to the end of a rope and hangs high overhead. 'While someone lowers and lilts it, the chil dren try to hit it and break it. When the Pinata is broken, everyone scram bles for the goodis. However, the Christmas spirit is the same in Mexico as right here. If we were to take a look in on Christmas over in Europe, what do you suppose we would find? Pjrobably small children barefooted with very litttle clothing would be huddled around a fire made very small by a few sticks of wood. Perhaj?s they will receive a crumb of bread for a present. What have they to give? Even though they have not a third of what we have, they give thanks for being alive. What can we do for them? We can spend an unselfiish Christmas; and when we go to the services on Christmas, let them mean more than just a tradition. We should pray for them as we never have be^ fore. In our homes we should real ize how very fortunate we are, no matter how littlte or how much we might have. How will you spend your Christmas? It’s Still Christmais To Me —^Lewis Tesh. ’48 “Christmas comes but once a year, and, as some half-wit has put it, ‘"Thank goodness it comes only once a year.” When I was a Uttle boy, Christmas could never come too fast to suit me. It meant Santa Claus, and presents, and helping decorate the tree. Now that I am older, Christmas has a slightly different meaning, but I still get a kick out of seeing it come every year. Many people complain because they must buy so many presents at Christ mas. They forget that one need not have a large income to have a good Christmas. Small gifts, when given sincerely and from the heart, mean more than expensive ones that are given just for show. Another pat of Christmas that I like is the carols. ’The boy or girl who hasn’t gone caroling on Christ mas Eve has certainly missed some thing. Christmas this year will be mostly for my little brother. He believes in Santa like I believe in eating. 'When I see him gleefully opening his pres ents on Christmas morning, talking and yelling all at once, l shall see mj’self in his place, only fifteen short years ago, and although in another sense, it’s still Christmas to me. O’Hara’s Christmas —Doug Craven, ’48 PART I It was Christmas, and the gay crowd moved rapidly with their bundles piled high in their arms and joyous smiles on their faces, but not so with one George O’Hara. His hands were thrust deep in his pockets, and instead ol an armful of bimdles, there in his shabby coat pocket was one solitary, withered orange—one little orange to remind three small children that it was Christmas. As he walked slowly down the gayly lighted streets, one thought was on his mind; how can one explain to three small children that he couldn’t find a job and that they were only hanging up their stockings in vain? Three trusting children awaiting the arrival of Santa Claus should not be disillusioned. He thought of their gayly smiling children pouring out their Christmas wishes come true, and his throat tightened and his eyes stung. His feet grew tired, and he could barely place one in front of another; so he set down, right there on the curb, un conscious of the glances of the crowd. As time passed the crowd began to dwindle, and George rose and started home, with head down. As be walked unseeingly, he moved slightly to the right, thus making an abrupt meet ing with a store window. As he looked up, there before him were the toys that his children dreamed of. He looked around—no one in sight—and then deep inside a voice cried, “Thou Shalt not steal,”—but in his mind was the picture of three small children. Down came his fist, and the night’s quietude was shattered by the sound of breaking glass. He grabbed quickly and ran down the well lighted street, Ifis legs carrying him on through the outskirts of the city, past fine apart ments, shabby buildings, across the tracks, toward the broken shacks, and home—at last home! PART n “Sergeant O’Brien, some one to see you, a fellow Wilburt T. Van Hooey or something; wants to report a rob bery; says some tramp robbed Stein’s store window; says he was in his place early this morning looking for a Job; a fellow named O’Hara George O’Hara, I believe.” “O. K.; take a couple of boys and go pick ’em up—” The squad car sped down the street and headed for the “lower end”. “A pity it is to go a-plcklng up a man on Christmas Eve, but he shouldn’t ’ave gone a robbing, either, I guess.” ■“•WeU ’er it is.” The car stopped, and two policemen slowly and quietly ascended the walk toward the little shack. They crept on the porch without a sound and peeped in the window. And there on the floor they saw three small children clutching their Christmas toys and laughing, while farther back, kneeling by a shabby bed, were a man and his wife, dressed in threadbare clothes, asking God for forgiveness. The iburly cop turned and nudged his comrade. 'Together they walked silently toward the car and drove away. Santa Junior Edgar Swing, ’48 Once upon a time, long ago and far away, there was a son born to 'Mr. and Mrs. S. Nicholas Claus. The proud parents named this fine son Santa Nicholas, after his old man. At that time Mr. and Mrs. Claus were living in the midst of a de pression. Mr. Claus was not working and had not worked for a number of years, the lazy bum. They were very poor and did not have enough to eat because Mr. Claus had taken all the red and blue stamps from their ration books and traded them for beer. Then it came; their landlord gave them orders to pay their rent or get out. So Mr. and Mrs. Claus and little Santa, who was only three weeks old, were forced to move from their little dirty, tumbled-down shack out into the cold, icy winter. The little Claus family was heart broken. They packed all their be longings into a beer case and set out to find a home, but no home was to be found. Mr. Claus decided to find out for himself what work was like, so he set forth to find a job. The only job available was one for a painter whose work it would be to paint the North Pole annually. Mr. Claus needed money so badly that he and his poor, helpless family jour neyed forth into the land of penguins and polar bears for a life of hard, cruel labor. The years flew by quickly, and soon Santa was a fine, husky lad of twenty- one. He was three hundred and ten pounds of solid fat. As time kept flying by, and Santa kept growing older and fatter, Mr. and Mrs. Claus became very old also. One day while Mr. Claus was up on the very top of the pole painting it, he slipped and fell into the snow and was never seen again. Soon after Mr. Claus’ tragedy, Mrs. Claus ran away and married a polar bear of which she was very fond. So this left poor Santa all by himself. He soon became very lonesome so he began to make toys to pass the time away. He decided it would be fun to make toys and give them to all the little children in the world. 'When the next issue of the “Rears and Saw- buck” catalog arrived, he ordered a beautiful sleigh with little bells aU over it. Then he sent ten cents and a box top to the Moldy Munchies Ce real Company and in return received eight tiny raindeer. So on the night of December 24, old Santa packed his sleigh with toys, put on his best pair of red flannels, and set out to deliver the toys to all the little boys and girls. All the kid dles have grown to love this grand old tub of lard and look forward with a great deal of anticipation and joy to his visit every year. As they entered the station door, the Sergeant demanded, “Well where is ’e?” The big cop just turned and growled, False alarm. Van Hooney must be nuts.”
Lexington High School Student Newspaper
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
Dec. 19, 1947, edition 1
7
Click "Submit" to request a review of this page. NCDHC staff will check .
0 / 75