AFTERMATH OF CHRISTMAS.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXVII, Issue 20454, 4 January 1930, Page 6 (Supplement)

AFTERMATH OF CHRISTMAS.

By CATHERINE CARR

It is over, and once again we heave that, tell-tale sigh of relief. Iho wild excitement of Christmas has whirl,?d over us once again, elated-or should wo say inflated?—us for the moment, then left rs feelinq as flat and exhausted as if wo had been run over by a steam roller. But surely it could not always havo been thus. ... _ Once, so long ago, the Magi journeyed cut from the East with their gifts ot gold and frankincense and myrrh, gifts to lay at the feet of a Child, gifts to inspire tho world through countless succeeding jeais <iud generations-of people, flic beauty of eivin"- with each celebration of the Chustmas festival captured the imagination of the Christian world, gave birth to the inepiration of Santa Claus and estal.hsl.ee • tho custom of the bestowal of E what have we done with all tho beaut) of the Christmas traditions? Is modern life crushing out the symbolism of it at. We have made such a business of it—this giving and receiving of gifts—that -it threatens to become a burden. Not only must we bring gifts to the children—and heaven knows tho very babes among us mid blaso and over-indulged in these modern days—but there are grown-ups by the score with whom we must exchange rifts and the customarv salutations of the season. There is grand-dad, for instance. What, can one buy for a grand-dad ? With a house and a motor-car and a penny or two in the bank what more can he need that wo can give? Would that we could give him back a vear or a day or even an hour of his youth—to fly a kito again and run briaht-eyed, red-cheeked in tho w-ind. ..." But, ago has trapped him, his old bones creak and the blood runs thin and slow in his knotted veins. Foi grand-dad, though he has tho spirit of a schoolboy prisoned in a worn and wearied body it must be something plain, and sane and tangible—an etching perhaps if he is artistic, a book if he is literary, a pipe if he lives in his day-dreams, or a pair of warm slippers for his cold, o.a feet. Then grandma—and great-aunt Agatha —and all one's host of relatives, male and female, old and young. The great problem is to decide whether one can dare to give Mildred a pair of suede gloves and Mavis silk stockings—just because they are rather an adorable pair of flapperettes —or whether it would be more discreet just to send them each a little handkerchief lest this Christmas-giving should become a burden to them, and with mistaken generosity they should go off and buy, out of their small pin-money, unnecessarily expensive gifts in return. So we give praise to the people who invented fancy shoe-trees and coat hang- . ers, fragrant bath-salts and novelty bridge-scorers, for they have aided us immeasurably. But the repeated admonition io shop early as the Christmas season approaches fall's on deaf ears. For if we didn't go crowding and crushing through tho streets and the shops at the very last minute—if said, work-a-day men did not walk the pavements with a detached, per- ' plexed air, then stand in rapt silence gazing through plateglass windows at bottles of' perfume and scent sprays and powder bowls and little silken handkerchiefs, then it simply wouldn't be Christmas and we should have nothing to sigh for with that vast, delicious sigh of relief when at long last the children have broken or mislaid all their trumpets and squeakers and the buying, the feasting and' tho other excitements are all safely over for another short year! Even the population of the poultry-yard must share our sigh of relief when the last hectic days of the old Vear are spent and they can. settle down without suspicion to the' enjoyemnt of their bran mash and to peaceful contemplation of the next egglaying contest.