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PAGE 8-B—THE BULLETIN, December 26, 1959 ^ igj^j MATIV1TATE DOMiNi*
A Bird Was Sent
Christmas Day, December 25, will be observed throughout
the Christian world as the birthday of Our Lord and Saviour
Jesus Christ. All priests may say three Masses on this great feast
day. In the chapel of the Christian Brothers Normal School, Am-
mendale, Md., the Mass book is arranged on the altar, photo
graphed by Brother Ignatius. (NC Photos).
By
Flora Slrousse
Flora Sirousse has written
several books for young read
ers and has published stories
in several literary magazines.
She also teaches creative writ
ing in the Junto Adult School
in Philadelphia. Her latest book,
THE FRIAR AND THE
KNIGHT (Kenedy) was recent
ly chosen as a Book of the
Month by Doubleday.
Christmas was coming but
nobody cared. Indeed, in the
small Chinese village where
Shi-tao lived, no one seemed to
remember Christmas any more
. . . Even if they had, such
thoughts would be kept hidden
. . . for it was forbidden to
think about Christmas; it was
forbidden to think about God
or love.
Shi-tao was 12 years old, a
serious slender-looking lad,
who painted pictures when
there was time for such frivoli
ty. Now, walking through the
woods on his way home from
school, memories beat in his
head like the wings of a bird.
FORBIDDEN SONG
The earth was hard-packed
beneath his feet and a brisk
winter wind wistled through
the trees. Along with the sound
of the wind came a song. This
frightened Shi-tao, for he knew
such a song was forbidden.
Still, with the wailing wind
words sounded:
“Come, all ye faithful . . .”
The memory of this song
frightened Shi-tao, for he knew
such a song was forbidden. The
boy pivoted to move slowly
down a fork in the path, but
try as he might memories
swung time back again.
Not many years before his
village had been peaceful. That
was before the soldiers came.
Shi-tao had a father and a
mother. Then Father Tom had
taught his people how to pray
—helped to heal their wounds.
With him in the dispensary was
Sister Therese. Slim as a reed
and always smiling, her skirts
spread into a wide black fan
when she walked. All of this
was before the soldiers came.
The soldiers praised good lit
tle boys and girls. They even
brought them candy. Being
good was to tell the truth. You
were even a' hero if you told
the truth.
Questions. Questions. Ques
tions.
“Does your mother still play
with colored beads . . .? Does
she still go to talk to Father
Tom . . . ? Your father, little
Shi-tao, what does he have to
say about the Peoples Govern
ment?”
Shi-tao had told the truth. A
hero at six. A hero without a
father and a mother. His father
and mother were gone. Father
Tom and Sister Therese were
gone. It was told that pictures
of a man in a viscored cap
would make up for all who had
gone away.- He would change
the world into a People’s Para
dise. His name was Stalin. Lov
er of the poor. Champion of the
humble. A brave man then . . .
but called a butcher now!
Shi-tao found himself trem
bling. He must hurry from the
woods. Not think of all who had
been beaten, killed. Maybe they
had been good, since the man
in the visored cap was now con
sidered bad! He would not
think. He would hurry home to
help his family — who was not
his family.
Now Shi-tao ran lightly down
the path, sniffing air which held
the promise of snow. Snow was
beautiful and soft. Snow was
smooth as a silken screen.
HOLLY FOR TAI-MING
The family, who was not his
famiiy, was named Fan. Fan
Chin-kuo, the master of the
house, was the father who was
not his father. Tai-ming, the
mother who was not his moth
er was Chin-kuo’s wife. Tai-
ming labored in the field with
her husband, milked the cow
and cooked their food. She was
silent and formal with the mas
ter of the house and treated
Shi-tao (who was not really her
son) as a total stranger.
The boy had now reached the
place where the tall trees part
ed to encircle the Fan farm. He
had a feeling that once having
passed into the open field, his
memory would stop prompting
of a special season. Suddenly,
then, he saw a clump of shiny
leaves. They belonged to the
holly bush, sharp-cut, green
patent leather leaves, which
partially concealed clusters of
purple berries. Large and like
amethysts are the holly buds of
China!
Shi-tao thought perhaps Tai-
ming might like some sprigs of
holly for her vase. Tai-ming
was so silent. She had so little
happiness. She seemed only to
love the birds — and even these
she dared not feed unless Chin-
kuo was away.
When he reached home, the
woman was standing above her
cook stove, stirring a large
spoon around in a steaming pot.
Without even looking up she
said, “Chin-kuo has driven to
Shanghai to put in his requisi
tion for spring. It is far off and
he will not return for days.”
Shi-tao wished Tai-ming
would look at him, not treat
him as a stranger or an enemy.
Poor Tai-ming! She was so
thin, so worn, her eyes dull and
heavy-lidded — as if concealing
a secret.
“See what I brought for you,
Tai-ming,” he cried. “Holly
branches. They will look nice in
your vase.”
“I have no time for such fool
ishness,” she said. “Go now and
tend to your chores.”
RECON CILLIATION
Her voice was flat and held
a tone of harshness. When she
turned to look at him, her eyes
narrowed with suspicion.
“Why should y o u suddenly
bring me a gift?” she demand
ed.
Shi-tao was hurt. Why did
Tai-ming hate him?
“I brought them,” he said,
“Because I wanted to. To make
you happy, maybe. To . . .”
“Happy ... ! You mean to
make me feel again . . . betray
myself and have me murdered,
maybe . . . ?”
“No, no, Tai-ming! What do
you mean by that?”
Tai-ming’s voice rose to a
wail of fury whern she cried, “I
mean, murdered. Like your own
mother, your father and all the
others. I do not believe in all
this killing and hate. Go now
and report me like you did the
rest. Go!”
Tai-ming started to cry, her
thin shoulders shaking, her
breath caught in a hard dry
sob.
Shi-tao was horrified. He had
never seen Tai-ming cry before.
Tai-ming was afraid. Afraid of
him!
“Did they kill ray mother be
cause she played with her col
ored beads?” he asked. “Did
they kill my father because of
what I said . . . ?”
“You did not know?!”
“But — but they promised.
They promised no harm would
come to them. They gave me
candy — said I was brave. Oh,
Tai-ming, I killed my mother
and my father. I was to blame.
Oh, Tai-ming ... !”
Suddenly, then, Tai-ming be
came the mother.
“You did not know,” she said.
“You were only six. Nothing
but a baby. Just a baby.” She
came toward him saying over
and over, “Nothing but a baby.”
“Tai-ming!”
They clung together and
wept.
SHI-TAO REMEMBERS
They talked long, Tai-ming
telling of many things he had
not known before . . . How she
had been accused of being a
traitor to the People’s cause.
This was because — after the
soldiers came — she had wanted
to take her baby son to the dis
pensary. Father Tom still tend
ed anyone who had the courage
to come to him. They had not
let her go . . . promised a doc
tor from the People’s Army
would come to see her boy. But
he never did — and so — the
baby died.
Tai-ming rocked in anguish.
“Dear Mother Tai-ming,” Shi-
tao said, “Thank you for trust
ing me.”
Dusk fell swiftly and Tai-
ming lit the lamp; they squatted
on the floor for their evening
meal. Over a steaming bowl of
rice and vegetables, Tai-ming
looked into his eyes —she who
had always turned away.
“Maybe many people do not
like what they are taught,” Shi-
tao said.
“I would not count on that,”
Tai-ming cautioned. “Where
hate is sown love does not eas
ily flower.”
Later, Shi-tao tried to paint,
but he could not concentrate.
Whenever he raised his brush
to make a stroke, the face of
Tai-ming appeeared, her eyes
cast down . . . and as he fol
lowed her gaze he saw her arms
outstretched, empty and yearn
ing for the son who died.
Strange, then, Tai-ming
merged with another mother,
also saddened and suffering be
cause her Son had died.
Shi-tao turned from his paper
to peer at Tai-ming as she mov
ed about the room. He saw her
place the holly into a vase.
Tai-ming gave a gasp of dis
may and said, “Oh, dear, the
berries are falling.”
Together they gathered up
the purple beads.
Late into the night Shi-tao
strung his beads, pierced each
berry to run through a piece of
twine, and knotted them at spe
cial intervals. One. Three One.
Ten. One. Ten . . . and so on
to the end where he fastened
two sticks crosswise. Then he
remembered who the other
Mother was!
Until sleep came he fondly
fingered the beads, lips moving
in silent prayer.
POLICE VISIT
The next morning was gray
with sun trying to wedge a
small crack through a screen of
clouds. Shi-tao looked from the
window. How beautiful! All
about,, trees, fields and earth
were lacquered white with
fresh fallen snow.
Swiftly he got into his
clothes, eager to show Tai-ming
his purple rosary. At the mo-
irient he turned to go to her,
loud knocking sounded at the
RIVERSIDE GLASS CO.
GLASS FOR EVERY PURPOSE
TWELFTH AT REYNOLDS STREET
AUGUSTA, GEORGIA
M errill Christmas
H VL/
Augusta Building Supply Co.
J. M. WOODDALL, Proprietor
Better Building Materials
1559-61 Broad Si. Phone PA. 2-8818 — Augusia, Ga.
AUGUSTA
SEAFOOD CO.
K. W. BALDOW, OWNER
Fresh Seafood Received Daily
PHONE PARK 4-8234 639 TWIGGS ST.
AUGUSTA, GEORGIA
Seasons
HOW
CjreetincjS
AID
LUMBER C
"ONE BOARD OR
10MPANY
A TRAINLOAD''
J. V/. CARSON
W. B. BADGER
1900 Milledgeville Road — Augusta, Ga.
PHONE 2-0451
Our aim in this life is to make this world
a more beautiful place in which to live.
FRUITLAND NURSERY
GARDEN CENTER
2505 WASHINGTON ROAD AUGUSTA, GA.
HEAT WITH OIL
lt # s Safer! It's Cleaner!
if
PH0EHIX OIL eOMHT
PHONE PARK 2-5321
SIMCA — VALIANT
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DeSOTO — PLYMOUTH
15TH AT BROAD PARK 4-1424
AUGUSTA, GEORGIA
Smartest of the Smart Cars
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Luigi Serves the Entire Nation in Augusta
590 BROAD ST.
DIAL PARK 2-4056
door. Tai-ming opened it.
“Good morning, Comrade,”
came a deep booming voice.
“Forgive my early call.”
Shi-tao’s knees went weak.
He knew that voice. It belong
ed to Wong Mao-fang, one of
the Secret Police.
“I know your good husband
has gone to the city,” Wong
went on, “And I stopped to re
mind you of the meeting this
evening. You will come, Com
rade Tai-ming will you not?”
“Of course,” Tai-ming repli
ed, “Of course.”
White-faced with panic, Shi-
tao dropped the beads into his
pocket and joined the visitor.
“Good morning, Comrade
Wong,” he said.
“Good morning,” the man re
plied. “I also expect you to join
our gathering tonight. We will
plan to make mockery on the
morrow, the day on which our
enemies believe the Son of God
was born. Bah!”
Shi-tao bowed politely.
“Just as a reminder,” Wong
went on, “Some people need re
minders!”
Shi-tao found himself tremb
ling. Suppose the man decided
to search him . . . But this was
fanciful . . . but suppose he did!
He must stay calm for Tai-
ming. Despite this resolution,
Shi-tao could not help fumbling
in his pocket to be sure. The
beads touched his fingers then
. . . horrified he felt a hole,
heard a soft thud as the rosary
struck the floor. Blood drained
from his face. He could scarce
ly breathe.
SUSPICION
But only Tai-ming had not
iced. Graceful as if in dancing
she leaned down and scooped
the beads up in her hand. Now
Wong’s eyes seemed riveted on
her tight clenched fist.
“Some tea?” Tai-ming asked
easily. “I have already had
mine, but Shi-tao has not eat
en.”
She gazed, down on the table
where her drained cup still held
scattered soggy tea leaves. She
raised it with one hand, turned,
went to the door and flung out
the dregs with a wide encircling
gesture.
Though Wong smilingly sip
ped his tea, his eyes furtively
sought the door from time to
time. Shi-tao was almost cer
tain that the man had become
suspicious . . . believed that
more than tea leaves lay hid
den in the snow.
“Well, I’d better be going,”
Wong boomed suddenly. Come
along, Shi-tao, can’t have my
Comrade late for school.”
Shi-tao felt that his legs
would not carry him as he fol
lowed the man outdoors. Turn
ing, he saw Tai-ming’s frail
body framed in the doorway.
Her eyes were anxious; her
arms hung limp, defeated. Dear
Tai-ming, his mother, would
they ever meet again?
THE SEARCH
. . . Just as he had thought.
Wong went directly to where
tea leaves displaced the snow
with patches of brown stain. His
smile was sly as he kicked at
the spots. He kicked . again.
Again. Then muttered angrily,
he leaned down and let the
leaves trickle through his fin
gers. Again, again . . .
Wildly Shi-tao turned away.
He could not bear to watch.
Curiously, then, not many yards
away he saw a bird — a bright
red bird, which should now
rightly be winging its way
southward over the rice fields.
Perhaps Tai-ming’s loving
crumbs had held it there. The
gay little creature did seem
concerned with something ■— its
head lowered, yet bobbing up
and down. Pecking . . . Peck
ing .. .
All of a sudden, Wong angri
ly shouted, “Bah!”
Startled by his shout, the
bird flew off, trailing a strand
of string with a purple berry
wedged within its beak.
Again Shi-tao turned to
where Tai-ming stood white
and swaying in the doorway. He
smiled reassuringly at her and
waved. Her arms fluttered tow
ard him, hands down as if to
bestow a blessing.
A Merry Christmas
And
Best Wishes
— New Branch Office —
Walton Way at 15th Street
Don’t disappoint Santa!
BE REALLY REFRESHED ! The old gentleman’s had a
long trip, and from the North Pole to the South Seas, nothing is so refreshing as
the cold crisp taste of Coca-Cola. It’s as bright and bracing as a sleigh-ride
in the stars. Keep a big supply in your
refrigerator all through the
holidays... please your
Santa and all his helpers
who will be calling at
your house.