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The Chronicle
Strives To Be A Clean News
paper, Complete, Newsy
and Reliable
Clinton Cknnirto
If You Don’t Read ‘
The Chronicle
You Don’t Get the News
Volume LIV
Clinton, S. C, Thursday, December 24, 1953
Number 52
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THE HOLLY CORSAGE
By RUTH C. KERMAN
(In December Issue Christian Herald)
When the program chairman
handed me the corsage of holly tied
with a red satin ribbon I remark
ed, ‘This should surely put me in
a mood to get ready for Christmas.”
For the bright red berries were fat
enough to tdmpt even a robin, and
they contrasted beautifully with
the shiny green leaves.
But even as we pinned it to the
lapel of my suit jacket, the thorn
of the holly stuck beneath .my
fingernail.
All afternoon that thorn rankled,
until by the time I got home, I had
forgotten all about the beauty of
the corsage. When I finally had the
thorn out, I thought wryly that
here was a parable of Christmas.
There is a thorn in the Christmas
corsage. We dread all the shopping
and chores and get caught up in the
brambles of commercialism. But
there is also beauty. What can we
do most to make sure that we keep
the beauty uppermost?
Well, the first thing I do is to
get my bearings and remind myself
of the exact ideals of that first
Christmas. Indeed, at the program
where I received the corsage, I had
read the Bible story. This has been
my custom for several years, when
ever I have been asked to conduct
Christmas devotions — simply to
read the Bible accounts. How often
has a busy clubwoman or church
reception wearing the new velvet
dress, there was such a look of dis
content on her face that the dress
might as well have hung on a shop
window dummy.
For my friend’s sake I thought
perhaps I should walk across the
room to wish the student a happy
holiday at home. But I stopped en-
route when I heard a merry greet
ing from, the church’s music schol
arship recipient. She wore her plaid
school skirt and a fresh white
blouse. But being young and “in the
know” she too wore velvet: a yard
or narrow black velvet ribbon tied
in a bow at the neck of her blouse.
Closer inspection showed that it
had a little border of bright red
sequins. When I tried to tell her
how lovely it was she said, “I
dreamed it up myself this after
noon; I’m glad you like it.”
In her eyes was the sparkling
acticipation of a child waiting for
Christmas, for she had done her
part toward making herself as at
tractive as she could with whSt she
had, in prepartion for the holiday
festivities. Her wishes had not
taken from someone else’s needs.
It seemed to me then that the
group had chosen this scholarship
girl wisely. For here was a young
woman who would manage in her
generation to keep alive the true
spirit of Christmas, wherever she
chance to come to know ourselves.
Perhaps by the very remarks and
attitudes we take toward spend
ing at Christmas, we reveal how
we have come to let money have
such an important place in our own
lives. Sometimes we feel that we
would like to get away from it all,
and even say, “I’m not going to
give any gifts at all his year.”
The year I made such a statement
I was brought back to reality sharp
ly by the comment of a young teen
age friend. Flashing an impudent
grin he said, “Just wha do you
think you ate anyway? I’m not
sure just how old you are, but it’s
a cinch Christmas is a lot older
and was here first.”
He was right and I made a men
tal note to try to find a better
chamois for the battered car he was
polishing. Christmas was indeed
here ahead of any or us, and will
be here after all of us are gone.
Ceasing to celebrate Christmas
seems a bid for more attention in
stead of less. A friend was telling
me how she took at his word a
rich relative who declared he didn’t
want anybody spending money on
his one year, and so she passed him
by. The result? He flew into a
rage about ho^ none of his family
loved him any longer.
In any group there is one mem
ber who says self-righteously, “I
don’t want to bother my friends
and relatives this year into having
to think of me. I’m going to take
myself out of all this Christmas
racket.” Some of us found it hard
to keep straight faces when one
such individual made this pious re
mark. For through all the year she
had been a self-centered individual.
calling on us for transportation,
taking our time listening to her
complaints and imaginary ills. What
she was really saying, as any psy
chiatrist would tell her, was that
the time had come when even this
once a year she did not want to
have to be bothered about thinking
of anybody else.
It takes an attitude of considera
tion for others and forgetfulness of
self really to appreciate and enjoy
Christmas. When the thorn of self
gets in the way, the beauty of serv
ice in behalf of others is completely
choked out. And the wonderful
memories of Christmas almost al
ways center around some individ
ual or group who had consideration
for others.
Who does not have blessed mem
ories of some sainted member of the
local church who did npt mind if
the youth group came over and
made popcorn balls on the Saturday
afternoon before Christmas? Not
until this very year did it occur to
me that we must have left messy
(Continued on page four)
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leader said to me later, “I relaxed happened to live, in whatever fi-
while you read, and determined I j nancial circumstances. Her eyes
would not get so involved in the were on the beauty even though she
extras this year that I forgot the | had to realistically face financial
essentials.” j facts.
“Fear not,” the angel aid, and yet | The other girl was trying only to
a look at the faces of any group keep up with the young Joneses,
preparing to celebrate Christmas What would it take to show her
shows how greatly they are burd-; the beauty possible in sacrificing
ened with petty fears. How often her desires for the happiness of
at store counters the expression is' the family? I hoped it would not
heard, “But I’m afraid he won’t take the loss of the tired father,
like this.” I Our celebration of the beauty of
When I shopped one day with a i Christmas must begin within the
friend, I found that she was “afraid” I home, once it has been born in our
not only of the likes and dislikes’own individual hearts. Sometimes
of the people on her list, but of the j we ourselves are guilty of shoving
fact that her own bank account the holly thorn deep. One of the
wouldn’t stand for the gift she pre- cruelest jabs we make at the holi-
ferred, and that she couldn't wrap day time is in failing to appreciate
a package as well as the trained [the gift which is offered to us in
professionals in the store. | love and generosity.
At lunch she turned to me and How well I remember the noon
said, “What would you do with last year when at the landing on
such a list?” i the staircase in a leading depart-
I said bluntly, “I’d do exactly | ment store, I happened to encoun-
what you want to do—tear it up ter one of the respected business-
and throw it away. Then I would men of our city. He was coming out
just plain, common, ordinary, stop of the women’s section with a big
being afraid. You are in a positive package under his arm and I made
panic for fear you are going to do the obvious pleasantry, “Fancy
the wrong thing.” meeting you here.” He ,put his
“I mean, what would you really 1 fingers to his lips and said, “I’m
do?” she asked. 1 Santa’s little boy for sure. It’s for
“Apparently everybody on your my wife.” And he tucked the big
list already has anything you can , package securely under his arm.
buy for them in the stores,” I said. | Well, even an amateur detective
’’Such people would get from me a would know that the box had to
batch of my homemade fudge, cut 1 contain either a coat or a robe. On
in big chunks and put in a plain I Christmas morning as I donned my
white carton you can pick up at, own new “television coat,” I won-
any stationery store and tied with dered fleetingly what has happen-
a plain red ribbon. Or maybe I’d, ing beside the tree in that other
jut bake a loaf of bread.” I home.
Horrified, She said, “Would you A few days afterward I arrived
really dare do that? I’d certainly at a committee meeting in time to
be afraid it would look too home- find out. The wife was saying that
she was surely disgusted this Christ
mas with her husband’s choice of
fabric, color, and design. She had
been first at the Store on the morn-
* made.”
Well, she may be right and I may
be entirely wrong. But if the time
comes when I cannot have fun mak
ing a platter of fudge or baking
a loaf of bread for a friend in the
ing after Christmas to return has
gift. Looking at her petulant face.
simple cleanliness of my own home I remembered the boyish smile of
kitchen, then perhaps I have al- her husband who had given up a
lowed myself to accumulate the; noon hour to‘go shopping,
wrong kind of friends. If I cannot, How different was the attitude
give something of my own skill or
awkwardness, then I am not worthy
to take my place in the long Christ
mas procession of those who have
followed the wise men bringing
their gifts. For each brought of his
own substance, as I see the story.
Nor do I hear that the shepherds
took time to go home and change
their clothes and dress up in fine
array. “What are you going to wear
to the Christmas party?” is heard
not alone in dormitories of schools
of another woman I meet through
community projects. A little brown
wren, she seemed to me, always
dressed in a brown suit and hat
with matching gloves and shoes. So
when I saw her at a basketball
game soon after Christmas wearing
a bright red sport coat, I had to
look twice to make sure it was in
deed this same friend. When she
wore it to a January board meet
ing, I made it a point to tell her
how nice she looked in this becom
ing shade.
She turned to me and made al
most a speech: I wish I had found
about red years ago. I was raised
by my grandmother, you know,
after my parents were killed, and
she thought colors were sinful, and
I suppose they would have been
a lot more work for her to launder
and colleges these days, but in
homes where mothers and aunts de
cide they must have a complete new
holiday outfit. The fashion scramble
at Christmas has become almost as
much of a commericialized spree
as the familiar Easter orgy.
A certain mother of my acquain
tance sighed Ibudly in my presence
last season and said, “I had so at my age. My husband and sons
hoped my husband and I could get j know how I nearly froze to "death
away for a week or so, soon after; at the night football games this
the first of the year. He has been year, and how much I wanted a
new heavy coat, and the three of
them picked this coat out for me
for Christmas. Honestly, when I
opened their box, I was horrified.
But I knew I would somehow have
to wear it someplace. Fortunately,
they interpreted my silence as be
ing overcome by its beauty, and I
was glad because anything I would
have said just then would have
hurt them.”
Then she concluded with a word
of wisdom, “I guess those who love
us sometimes know better than we
know ourselves.”
She was right, and without
Christmas we might never have a
so tired and he never really got
over that attack of flu. But we cer
tainly can’t go now.”
When I asked if Christmas had
upset the budget so badly, she said,
“Oh, no, not just Christmas. I had
planned for that. But our daugh
ter is home from school and I had
not expected to have to buy all the
special clothing, but she says she
has to have it.”
The “it" included a cashmere
sweater, new pumps, a velvet af
ternoon dress. Velvet, it seemed,
was an absolute"" “must” at her
school just then. Yet when I saw
the daughter arrive at a Christmas
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