Port Huron High School - Student Yearbook (Port Huron, MI)

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Don’t you think I’ve been good enough all year, helping moth- er in father’s place, and everything to deserve it?” The little appealing face of Tommy Atkins, Jr., was lifted entreatinglv to his sister, a quiet, responsible looking girl about four years his senior who was gazing earnestly too into the store window, wishing for the little china tea set in the corner, gayly decorated with gold and flowers. Hut she knew it would do no good to wish, for she remembered well her mother’s warning made the night before, concerning the non- appearance of Santa Claus at their house this year, because, as the mother had convincingly said, Santa wouldn ' t be able to find them this year because they had moved from their pret- ty white cottage with the green shutters and the dowers up into that old ramshackle tenement house where the Saint would certainly pass them by and besides, because of the war, Santa Claus would be too poor by far to visit everybody this year, especially such poor people as they. Jenny had accepted the mother’s decision as final and so had said nothing about her desires, but had forcefully and quietly laid them aside as never-to-be-realized dreams and had finished the household tasks, which she was accustomed to do after coming home from school, ever since her father had gone away with the soldiers and her mother was forced to work at the munition factory in order to provide her family with necessaries. Tom- my’s words had brought the mother’s sweet, patient face clear- ly before her and she realized it to be her duty to pacify Tom- my as best she might so as not to pain her mother further. Hut, Oh Tommy was such a dear, it did seem a shame that he should have to be disappointed too, this year! A feeling of revulsion towards the war swept over her and she had to fight hard to keep the lump down in her throat and the tears from her eyes. But downing her emotions she resolutely clenched her chubby fists in their thin mittens and determinedly shook her head with its wealth of yellow curls. “No, Tommy, don’t you remember what mother said yesterday, about St. Nicholas coming to our house this year? The horse is very pretty but 26

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The Christmas Ship How many of us need a description of the real genuine feeling of Christmas? Very few, for we have all realized that calm spirit of contentment, the love of simply being alive with tingling fingers and conscious toes, with a heart that responds to the feeling which rises in the throat when the full meaning of Christmas presents itself plainly to the mind. Far away, somewhere in war-stricken Europe, a great many were ex- periencing this feeling in its completest form, for thoughts of their universal Saviour brought the greatest balm to the many deep wounds inflicted by the ghastly conflict existing but a few miles away. It was only about two weeks before Christmas and ideal Christmas weather had already set in, somewhat snappy and thrilling, cloudy over head with a steady flurry of snow cov- ering the streets with a downy covering of white fluff which clung to the feet of the passerby and held fast to the coats and hoods of every one, making them look like snowbirds, while the soft pattering of the flakes on the faces made them glow and color up like the rosy side of a juicy apple. With the coming of the snowflakes, the spirit of war, so deeply imbed- ded in the crevices of their hearts was silenced and superseded by the soul-strengthening and vivifying spirit of Christmas, coming but once a year to make us feel the worth of living by eliminating our sorrows and troubles for a short time, at least. Before a gayly decorated Christmas window two little mites were standing hand in hand, their rosy, dampened noses pressed up tightly against the steaming window, while the wide open merry blue eyes contemplated the store of interest- ing play things displayed. “Oh, Jenny, don’t you wish Santa Claus would bring us that big horse there in the corner by the soldiers and cannon? 25

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it is only to be looked at by little boys, whose papas are not fighting for their country. The eager face dropped at the sisters solemn words and the tears were only prevented from appearing by the sympa- thetic squeeze of Jenny ' s hand. So lie took one last lingering look and walked away manfully with his hand clasped tightly in that of his sister. That night at bed-time hour, the whole trouble was breathed into the mother’s attentive ear, causing her heart to ache. It was only because she possessed that fortitude credited to our greatest fighters, that she had had the strength to be patient and kind thru all her troubles, for there was not only t he struggle to make ends meet on her small wages, but her heart went out to the young husband, fighting so bravely for their country, and there was never a moment but that she feared to receive that fateful notice which has come into so many homes to bring a great sadness there. Her bravery stood her in good stead now, for it took a hero’s strength to reconcile the children and smilingly and cheerfully answer: “We ' ll just dream about the horse this year, and imagine it to be ours, and we’ll be just as happy as if we really truly had it.” The children had finally gone peacefully to sleep after listening to the mother’s story about a kind fairy and two faithful good children, who were very happy in spite of being poor, and the mother knelt down before her crucifix and pray- ed earnestly and fervently to God for strength and patience and for preservation in her trials. Comforted by a feeling of new strength, the little woman slept soundly and peacefully thruout the night. The two weeks before Christmas passed as quickly as usual and the night before Christmas had arrived. Mrs. At- kins had had a very hard day at the factory, the noise of the machinery and the general confusion, together with the men- tal strain she was enduring had caused a slight headache and the anticipation which she had experienced early that morn- ing when she and the children had planned out their program 27