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A Sailor's Christmas Gift

By J. Lederer

Admiral L. Mc, USN

Navy Department

Washington, DC

Dear Admiral,

This letter is a year late; nevertheless, it is

important that you receive it. Eighteen people asked me to

write to you.

Last year at Christmas time my wife, our three boys

and I were in France on our way from Paris to Nice. For

five wretched days everything had gone wrong. Our hotels

were " tourist traps, " our rented car broke down; we were

all restless and irritable in the crowded car. On

Christmas Eve, when we checked into a dingy hotel in Nice,

there was no Christmas spirit in our hearts.

It was raining and cold when we went out to eat. We

found a drab little joint shoddily decorated for the

holidays. It smelled greasy. Only five tables in the

restaurant were occupied. There were two German couples,

two French families and an American sailor, by himself. In

the corner, a piano player listlessly played Christmas

music. I was too stubborn and too tired and miserable to

leave. I looked around the noticed that the other

customers were eating in stony silence. The only person

who seemed happy was the American sailor. While eating he

was writing a letter, and a half-smile covered his face.

My wife ordered our meal in French. The waiter

brought us the wrong thing, so I scolded my wife for being

stupid. She began to cry. The boys defended her, and I

felt even worse. Then at the table with the French family,

on our left, the father slapped one of the children for

some minor infraction, and the boy began to cry. On our

right, the fat, blond German woman began berating her

husband.

All of us were interrupted by an unpleasant blast of

cold air. Through the front door came an old French flower

woman. She wore a dripping, tattered overcoat and shuffled

in on wet, rundown shoes. Carrying her basket of flowers,

she went from one table to the other. " Flowers, monsieur?

Only one franc. " No one bought any. Wearily she sat down

at a table between the sailor and us. To the waiter she

said, " A bowl of soup. I haven't sold a flower all

afternoon. " To the piano player she said hoarsely, " Can

you imagine, ph, soup on Christmas Eve? " He pointed to

his empty tipping plate.

The young sailor finished his meal and got up to

leave. Putting on his coat, he walked over to the flower

woman's table. " Happy Christmas! " he said, smiling, and

picking out two corsages, asked, " How much are they? "

" Two francs, monsieur. " Pressing one of the small

corsages flat, he put it into the letter he had written,

then handed the woman a 20-franc note.

" I don't have change, monsieur, " she said, " I'll get

some from the waiter. "

" No, ma'am, " he said, leaning over and kissing the

ancient cheek. " This is my Christmas present to you. "

Straightening up, he came to our table holding the other

corsage in front of him. " Sir, " he said to me, " may I have

permission to present these flowers to your beautiful

wife? " In one quick motion, he gave my wife the corsage,

wished us a Merry Christmas, and departed.

Everyone had stopped eating. Everyone was watching

the sailor. Everyone was silent. A few seconds later,

Christmas exploded throughout the restaurant like a bomb.

The old flower woman jumped up, waving the 20-franc

note. Hobbling to the middle of the floor, she did a merry

jig and shouted to the piano player, " ph, my Christmas

present, and you shall have half so you can have a feast

too. " The piano player began to beat out " Good King

Wenceslaus, " hitting the keys with magic hands, nodding his

head in rhythm.

My wife waved her corsage in time with the rhythm.

She was radiant and appeared 20 years younger. The tears

had left her eyes and the corners of her mouth turned up in

laughter. She began to sing, and our three sons joined

her, bellowing the song with uninhibited enthusiasm.

" Gut, gut, " shouted the Germans. They jumped on their

chairs and began singing in German. The waiter embraced

the flower woman. Waving their arms, they sang in French.

The Frenchman who had slapped the boy beat rhythm with a

fork against a bottle. The lad climbed on his lap, singing

in a youthful soprano.

The Germans ordered wine for everyone. They delivered

it themselves, hugging the other customers, bawling

Christmas greetings. One of the French families ordered

champagne and made the rounds, kissing each one of us on

each cheek. The owner of the restaurant started singing

" The First Noel, " and we all joined in, half of us crying.

People crowded in from the street until many customers

were standing. The walls shook as hands and feet kept time

to the yuletide carols. A few hours earlier, a few people

had been spending a miserable evening in a shoddy

restaurant. It ended up being the happiest, the very best

Christmas Eve they had ever spent.

This, Admiral Mc, is what I am writing you

about. As the top man in the Navy, you should know about

the very special gift that the U.S. Navy gave to my family

- to me and to the other people in that restaurant.

Because your young sailor had the Christmas spirit in his

soul, he released the love and joy that had been smothered

within us by anger and disappointment. He gave us

Christmas.

Thank you very much.

Merry Christmas

J. Lederer

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