Szathowski, Anne

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28 MANUSCRIPTShe gains sexual satisfaction and status, and he uses you for an egobuilder and a servant.My suggestions and clues to the American male are as follows:1. A woman does not fall instantly in love with a man because hekisses her forehead or holds her hand. 2. Keep your mouth shut andlet a woman talk. Maybe you'll be pleasantly surprised at what shehas to say. 3. Stop complaining about everything that isn't your ideaor creation. Tell her she's lovely-she builds up your ego constantlymerely by being with you. 4. Be considerate of a woman. Judge heras an individual who appreciates the fact that she is a woman, you area man. Just don't judge her on the "Me Tarzan, you Jane" level.Actually, I like men. Not all of them are vegetables. I havemerely stated what are usually the basic faults of most men. It mayseem strange that their faults pertain mainly to the treatment ofladies, but these are the faults I notice. In discussing these short-comings with the members of my sex, I find that most women agreethat men are generally a pretty good bunch of fellows. If they wouldjust polish off the rough edges, they would be very acceptable. Grabthe sandpaper, ladies. Only you can shape him into the ideal Ameri-can male.A Gift of ChristmasAnne Szatkowski/I HAD NEVER spent a Christmas without Aunt Stella and Harold;they were always there-Aunt Stella sitting in front of the treeand Harold peering at the names on the packages as he tried tohand them to their recipients, because Harold thought of himself asSanta Claus. Aunt Stella was my grandfather's half-sister andHarold, her only child, was born quite late in her life with an incur-able thyroid deficiency which made him somewhat mentally andphysically retarded. Harold was nearly as old as my mother, buthad grown in height and mind to the age of about a nine-year-old;however, horizontally he was as wide as he was tall, and the lines ofhis face revealed his age rather accurately. Harold's father had diedshortly after Harold was born, and he and his mother lived alone inChicago with no other living relatives who really cared, except mygrandparents and my mother. Since she was five, my mother hadnever known a Christmas without them. The year I was sixteen,however, I knew for sure that I would just die if they were gatheredaround our Christmas tree that particular morning.I had met Joe who was just about the most nearly perfect seven-teen-year-old boy that ever existed. I just knew that Joe had ab-solutely no defectives in his family; he was so perfect it would simplybe impossible. Joe's parents had asked me to their family's Christ-MANUSCRIPTS 29~nas Eve g~thering, and since he knew that we had our family gather-mg on Chnstmas morning, I just had to invite him to ours. I knewthat I must persuade my mother to exclude Aunt Stella and Haroldfrom our regular gift opening-couldn't we have two? There mustbe s?l11ethil:g we could do; there just had to be something. Yet, Ifelt just a little pang of guilt when I asked my mother. I knew AuntStella and Harold had nowhere else to go; there was no one whocared enough to dampen their own Christmas with Aunt Stella andHarold's peculiarities. But I was just as certain that Joe wouldnever ~peak to me again because he would think there might besomethmg wrong with me; because I had a relative such as Harold(even though very distant), he would think that there was probablya.weak.ness in our whole family, including me. I discussed the situa-non with my mother, but it was no use. Mother informed me thatone of the greatest lessons in life was to learn to accept situations asthey are, if they have not been caused by something that I have done,and that I must remember that kindness is a virtue of life and mustbe followed. Then I knew that there was no use to pursue the sub-ject another minute.What would I do? My life would be ruined. Joe would thinkI was a complete mental case, and he was sure to tell all the otherboys. I was doomed if he came; but if I told him he could not comeover Christmas morning, he might think worse things of me. Thus,I knew the situation must be faced; I was a victim of circumstances.It was the first Christmas Eve of my life that I lay awake thinking ofanything other than what was under that beautiful Christmas tree.All I could think of was that my social career was soon to come to anabrupt end.With a heavy heart I watched everyone, including Joe, gatheraround the Christmas tree that morning; however, I had noticed thatJoe did not change a single expression as he was introduced to AuntStella and Harold. There was not even the slightest quizical look asJoe said, "How do you do?" As we gathered around the tree, Haroldtook his usual standing position to play Santa Claus, and my heartsank. Harold was so short and fat that he actually looked like thelittle elf we had always described as Santa; all he needed was a redsuit, boots, and a beard. Harold went on passing out all the packagesunder the tree as my mother handed them to him; he was completelyunaware of my mental torture, but I did receive a reassuring glancefrom my mother. No doubt Mother had survived a similar situation.Eventually all the packages were delivered, and most of themunwrapped. As I looked about the room, I began to realize that withall the rest of my wonderful family no one could possibly think therewas anything amiss. No one in the world ever had a finer family. Iglanced toward Aunt Stella and Harold, who had sat down beside hislittle ninety-year-old mother, who was dwarfed by age to his height.I saw Aunt Stella pat Harold's arm, smile kindly and say, "Isn't thiswonderful? Aren't we grateful to be here with those who love us?"30 MANUSCRIPTSI stole an ashamed glance at J oe, who was also looking at the kindlittle woman and the grotesque little figure by her side, smiling- atthem, as if he were really glad they were there also. I knew then thatI had learned a part of the real meaning of Christmas, and I suddenlyfelt much older and wiser.GreatnessDon Wall/T I-IE NIGHT after former President Kennedy's assassination,newspapers around the world acclaimed him as a "truly greatman." More recently, President Johnson referred to WinstonChurchill as a great individual. Greatness implies an outstandingaccomplishment and a marked superiority over contemporaries in thesame field. Abstract and somewhat arbitrary, this quality of great-ness conanates from the lives of a relative handful of history's mul-titudes.The first necessary quality is an avid interest in a certain subjectin which one aspires toward success. Without this most elementaryingredient, one neither thinks of nor devotes time and energy to anarea of endeavor. Great men of this century furnish a primary indi-cation of the importance of interest. When Felix Frankfurter,former United States Supreme Court Justice, landed in N ew Yorkfrom Austria, he was fascinated by law. Overcoming a completeignorance of the English language, he finished law school in hisseventh year in this country. His interest in and knowledge of lawrecently caused Chief Justice Earl Warren to comment that Frank-furter has done more than any other one person in the last sixty yearsto interpret the law for a changing nation. Arnold Toynbee, theeminent British historian, would never have written his twenty-fourvolumes on the development of civilization if he had not been in-trigued by the history of man's existence and the characteristics ofcivilization. In the same manner, Charles Hard Townes' maintaininga dedicated interest in high-energy light beams enabled him to receivethe Presidential Medal of Freedom last year for research in maserand laser devices. Other great men have been engrossed in severalfields; Aristotle's pen recorded religious, political, biological, andeconomic interests. Those who lack this inquisitive concern glide overthe surface of education, never diving below the easy, the apparent,to the real challenges of deeper thought. Every evening they flopinto an overstuffed easy chair and digest their least soluble mentalmeal of the day-the nightly weather report. His most profoundinterest being in how much he still owes the finance company forlast year's Christmas presents, Mr. Average America cannot achievegreatness.

A Gift of Christmas

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A Gift of Christmas

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