December 10, 2024 • 15 mins
This episode takes a heartfelt turn as we delve into one of the most touching Christmas stories ever written—O. Henry’s The Gift of the Magi. Whether you’re a longtime fan of the tale or hearing it for the first time, its timeless message of love and sacrifice is sure to move you.
In this episode:
- A reflection on Christmas storytelling
- O. Henry’s The Gift of the Magi
- Sacrifice, love, and the spirit of giving
Related Links:
- 10 Easy Traditions That Can Make Christmas Meaningful For Your Family
- Gifts our Children Need For Christmas
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:04):
It's the Happy Families podcast.
Speaker 2 (00:07):
It's the podcast for the time poor parent who just
once answers.
Speaker 1 (00:11):
Now Usually on a Wednesday, I have a chat with
somebody ahead of you them I talk about stuff that
matters a lot to them. Last week was Julian mcgrant,
the e Safety Commissioner. Before that, Dan Prince, Paie Schnell Contos.
Before that, Madonna King and Rebecca Sparrow. We talked to
some great people on this podcast about some really really
important stuff. However, we're now less than two weeks away
(00:32):
from Christmas. Everyone's slowing things down, and I wanted to
be a little bit indulgent today and share with you
what I think is one of the best Christmas stories
that you'll ever hear. Now, for those who have a
faith background, the idea of anything being better than the
Nativity as a Christmas story might sound a little bit,
I don't know, a little bit sacrilegious. That's certainly not
(00:52):
my intention. I have a faith background as well, but
when it comes to non faith related Christmas stories, I
can't think of a better one. The o Henry's the
Gift of the Magie. So Kylie is with me, and
Kylie is going to sit quietly, impatiently while I read
what I think is the best Christmas story ever written.
And then at the end of that, we're going to
(01:13):
discuss it briefly, because we reckon that it'd be great
for you to talk about with your family. You might
even want to play the podcast to them and then
have a conversation about what the story might mean to
you and to your kids.
Speaker 2 (01:27):
Just before you get started, I do need to put
a very clear caveat and warning in here.
Speaker 1 (01:33):
A warning. I thought this was quite a safe story.
Speaker 2 (01:37):
We got an email a couple of weeks ago from
a listener who heard my talk that I delivered to
Fathers of Girls, and one of the things she said,
I think you need a bigger warning at the beginning
of episodes not to listen while operating a car, as
it seemed quite dangerous that I was driving as my
tears were flooding my face.
Speaker 1 (01:56):
This is one of those stories.
Speaker 2 (01:58):
This is one of those stories. So if you need
to pull over, do it now.
Speaker 1 (02:02):
Without further ado. The gift of the Magi bio Henry
one dollar and eighty seven cents. That was all, and
sixty cents of it was in pennies pennies saved one
and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer, and
(02:24):
the vegetable man and the butcher, until one's cheeks burnt.
With the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing
implied three times. Della counted it one dollar and eighty
seven cents, and the next day would be Christmas. There
was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the
shabby little couch, and how so Della did it, which
(02:47):
instigates the moral reflection that life is made up of sobs, sniffles,
and smiles, with sniffles predominating, while the mistress of the
home is gradually subsiding from the first stage to the second.
Take a look at the home, a furnished flat at
eight dollars per week. It did not exactly beggar description,
(03:07):
but it certainly had that word on the lookout for
the mendicancy squad. In the vestibule below was a letter
box into which no letter would go, and an electric
button from which no mortal finger could coax a ring.
Also appertaining thereunto was a card bearing the name mister
James Dillingham Young. The Dillingham had been flung to the breeze.
(03:29):
During a former period of prosperity, when its possessor was
being paid thirty dollars per week, Now when the income
was shrunk to twenty dollars, the letters of Dillingham looked blurred,
as though they were thinking seriously of contracting to a
modest and unassuming d But whenever mister James Dillingham Young
came home and reached his flat above, he was called
(03:50):
Jim and greatly hugged by missus. James Dillingham Young already
introduced to you as Della, which is all very good.
Della finished her cry and attended to her cheeks with
the powder rag. She stood by the window and looked
out dully at a gray cat walking a gray fence
in a gray backyard. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and
(04:14):
she had only one dollar and eighty seven cents with
which to buy Jim a present. She'd been saving every
penny she could for months, with this result, twenty dollars
a week doesn't go far. Expenses had been greater than
she had calculated. They always are. Only one dollar eighty
seven to buy a present for Jim. Her Jim many
(04:35):
a happy hour. She had spent planning for something nice
for him, something fine and rare and sterling, something just
a little bit near to being worthy of the honor
of being owned by Jim. There was a peer glass
between the windows of the room. Perhaps you have seen
a peer glass in an eight dollar flat. A very
(04:56):
thin and very agile person may, by observing his reflection
in a rapid seatquence of longitudinal strips, obtain a fairly
accurate conception of his looks. Della, being slender, had mastered
the art. Suddenly she whirled from the window and stood
before the glass. Her eyes were shining brilliantly, but her
face had lost its color within twenty seconds. Rapidly she
(05:18):
pulled down her hair and let it fall to its
full length. Now there were two possessions of the James
Dillingham Youngs in which they both took a mighty pride.
One was Jim's gold watch that had been his father's
and his grandfather's. The other was Della's hair. Had the
Queen of Sheba lived in the flat across the airshaft,
(05:39):
Della would have let her hair hang out the window
some day to dry, just to depreciate her Majesty's jewels
and gifts. Had King Solomon been the janitor with all
his treasures piled up in the basement, Jim would have
pulled out his watch every time he passed, just to
see him pluck at his beard from envy. So now
Della's beautiful hair fell about her, rippling and shining like
(06:01):
a cascade of brown waters. It reached below her knee
and made itself almost a garment for her. And then
she did it up again, nervously and quickly. Once she
faltered for a minute and stood still while a tear
or two splashed on the worn red carpet. On went
her old brown jacket, On went her old brown hat.
With a whirl of skirts, and with the brilliant sparkle
still in her eyes, she fluttered out the door and
(06:24):
down the stairs to the street, where she stopped. The
sign read Madame Sophroni hair goods of all kinds one
flight up. Della ran and collected herself, panting, Madam large
two white chili. Hardly looked the SOPHRONI. Will you buy
my hair? Asked Della. I buy hair, said Madam. Take
your hat off, and let's have a sight at the
(06:46):
looks of it. Down, rippled the brown cascade. Twenty dollars,
said madam, lifting the mass with a practiced hand. Give
it to me, quick, said Della Oh. And the next
two hours tripped on rosy wings. Forget the hashed metaphor.
She was ransacking the stores for Jim's present. She found
it at last. It surely had been made for Jim
(07:08):
and no one else. There was no other like it
in any of the stores, and she had turned all
of them inside out. It was a platinum fob chain,
simple and chaste in design, properly proclaiming its value by
substance alone and not by meretricious ornamentation, as all good
things should do. It was even worthy of the watch.
As soon as she saw it, she knew that it
(07:31):
must be Jim's. It was like him, quietness and value.
The description applied to both twenty one dollars they took
from her for it, and she hurried home with the
eighty seven cents. With that chain on his watch, Jim
might be properly anxious about the time in any company.
Grand as the watch was, he sometimes looked at it
(07:51):
on the sly on account of the old leather strap
that he used in place of a chain. When Della
reached home, her intoxication gave way a little to prudence,
and she got out her curling irons and lighted the
gas and went to work on repairing the ravages made
by generosity added to love, which is always a tremendous task,
dear friends, a mammoth task. Within forty minutes, her head
(08:13):
was covered with tiny, close lying curls that made her
look wonderfully like a truant schoolboy. She looked at her
reflection in the mirror long, carefully and critically. If Jim
doesn't kill me, she said to herself, before he takes
a second look at me, he'll say, I look like
a Coney Island chorus girl. But what could I do? Oh?
What could I do with a dollar and eighty seven cents.
(08:37):
At seven o'clock, the coffee was made and the frying
pan was on the back of the stove, hot and
ready to cook the chops. Jim was never late. Della
doubled the fob chain in her hand and sat on
the corner of the table near the door that he
always entered. Then she heard his step on the stair
away down on the first flight, and she turned white.
For just a moment. She had a habit for saying little,
silent prayers about the simplest everyday things. And now she whispered,
(09:01):
Please God, make him think I'm still pretty. The door
opened and Jim stepped in and closed it. He looked
thin and very serious. Poor fellow. He was only twenty
two and to be burdened with a family. He needed
a new overcoat, and he was without gloves. Jim stopped
inside the door, as immovable as a setter at the
scent of a quail. His eyes were fixed upon Della,
(09:22):
and there was an expression in them that she could
not read, and it terrified her. It was not anger,
nor surprise, nor disapproval, nor horror, nor any of the
sentiments that she had been prepared for. He simply stared
at her fixedly, with that peculiar expression on his face.
Della wriggled off the table and went for him, Jim Darling,
(09:45):
She cried, don't look at me that way. I had
my hair cut off and sold it because I couldn't
have lived through Christmas without giving you a present. It'll
grow out again. You won't mind, will you. I just
had to do it. My hair grows awfully fast. Say
Merry Christmas, Jim, and let's be happy. I don't know
what a nice what a beautiful, nice gift I've got
for you. You've cut off your hair, asked Jim laboriously, as
(10:08):
if he had not arrived at that patent fact. Yet,
even after the hardest mental labor, cut it off and
sold it, said Della, don't you like me just as well? Anyhow?
I'm me without my hair, ain't I? Jim looked about
the room curiously. You say your hair is gone, he said,
with an air almost of idiocy. You needn't look for it,
(10:29):
said Della. It's sold, I tell you, sold and gone too.
It's Christmas, Eve boy, be good to me, for it
weren't for you. Maybe the hairs of my head were numbered,
she went on with sudden serious sweetness. But nobody could
ever count my love for you. Shall I put the
jobs on Jim? Out of his trance, Jim seemed quickly
to wake. He unfolded his Della for ten seconds. Let
(10:50):
us regard with discreet scrutiny some inconsequential object in the
other direction. Eight dollars a week or a million a year?
What's the difference? A mathematician or a wit would give
you the wrong answer. The magi brought valuable gifts, but
that was not among them. This dark assertion will be
(11:11):
illuminated later on. Jim drew a package from his overcoat
pocket and threw it upon the table. Don't make any mistake, Dell,
he said about me. I don't think there's anything in
the way of a haircut, or a shave, or a
shampoo that could make me like my girl any less.
But if you'll unwrap that package, you may see why
(11:31):
you had me going a while. At first white fingers,
a nimble tore at the string and paper, and then
an ecstatic scream of joy, and then alas a quick
feminine change to hysterical tears and whales, necessitating the immediate
employment of all the comforting powers of the Lord of
the flat. For there lay the combs, the set of
(11:53):
combs side and back that Della had worshiped long in
a Broadway window, beautiful carmes, pure tortoise shell, with jeweled rims,
just the shade to wear in the beautiful vanished hair.
They were expensive combs, she knew, and her heart had
simply craved and yearned over them without the least hope
(12:15):
of possession, and now they were hers. But the tresses
that should have adorned the coveted adornments were gone, But
she hugged them to her bosom, and at length she
was able to look up with dim eyes and smile
and say, my hair grows so fast. Jim, and then
Della leaped up like a little singed cat and cried, oh, oh.
(12:40):
Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held
it out to him eagerly upon her open palm. The dull,
precious metals seemed to flash with the reflection of her
bright and ardent spirit. Isn't it Dandie Jim? I hunted
all over town to find it. You'll have to look
at the time one hundred times a day. Now, give
(13:00):
me a watch. I want to see how it looks
on it. Instead of obeying, Jim tumbled down on the
couch and put his hands under the back of his
head and smiled. Dell said he let's put our Christmas
presents away and keep them awhile they're too nice to use.
Just at present. I sold the watch to get the
money to buy your combs. Now suppose you put the
(13:24):
chops on the Magie, as you know, were wise men,
wonderfully wise men who brought gifts to the Babe in
the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents.
Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly
bearing the privilege of exchange in case of duplication. And
here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle
(13:46):
of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely
sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house.
But in a last word to the wise of these days,
let it be said that of all who give gifts,
these two were the wisest of all who give and
receive gifts. Such as they are wisest everywhere they are wisest.
(14:10):
They are magi. And that's the gift of the magi.
By O Henry. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need
to go blow my nose and wipe my eyes.
Speaker 2 (14:21):
Well, I do too.
Speaker 3 (14:26):
What I love about this story is that they each
knew each other so well they knew exactly what the
other would need, and it was in need. And yet
because of the love that they shared for each other,
they were willing to sacrifice the thing that mattered most
(14:47):
to them, because at the end of the day, it's
actually not about things, it's about the person that you
spend you choose to spend your life with. And so
the magic in this story is the recognition that at
Christmas time, every day should be an opportunity to celebrate
the ones we love. But we have this beautiful opportunity
(15:08):
on Christmas Day to acknowledge those people that enrich and
brighten our lives.
Speaker 1 (15:15):
Whatever it takes, find a way to make a difference
in the lives of those you love. We've only got
a couple of days of the podcast to go until
we wrap things up, but as we move towards Christmas,
we just hope that you have such a wonderful festive season.
The Happy Families podcast is produced by Justin Rulon from
Bridge Media. If you like more info about making your
family happy, you can get it all a Happy Families
dot com dot a you
It's the Happy Families podcast.
Speaker 2 (00:07):
It's the podcast for the time poor parent who just
once answers.
Speaker 1 (00:11):
Now Usually on a Wednesday, I have a chat with
somebody ahead of you them I talk about stuff that
matters a lot to them. Last week was Julian mcgrant,
the e Safety Commissioner. Before that, Dan Prince, Paie Schnell Contos.
Before that, Madonna King and Rebecca Sparrow. We talked to
some great people on this podcast about some really really
important stuff. However, we're now less than two weeks away
(00:32):
from Christmas. Everyone's slowing things down, and I wanted to
be a little bit indulgent today and share with you
what I think is one of the best Christmas stories
that you'll ever hear. Now, for those who have a
faith background, the idea of anything being better than the
Nativity as a Christmas story might sound a little bit,
I don't know, a little bit sacrilegious. That's certainly not
(00:52):
my intention. I have a faith background as well, but
when it comes to non faith related Christmas stories, I
can't think of a better one. The o Henry's the
Gift of the Magie. So Kylie is with me, and
Kylie is going to sit quietly, impatiently while I read
what I think is the best Christmas story ever written.
And then at the end of that, we're going to
(01:13):
discuss it briefly, because we reckon that it'd be great
for you to talk about with your family. You might
even want to play the podcast to them and then
have a conversation about what the story might mean to
you and to your kids.
Speaker 2 (01:27):
Just before you get started, I do need to put
a very clear caveat and warning in here.
Speaker 1 (01:33):
A warning. I thought this was quite a safe story.
Speaker 2 (01:37):
We got an email a couple of weeks ago from
a listener who heard my talk that I delivered to
Fathers of Girls, and one of the things she said,
I think you need a bigger warning at the beginning
of episodes not to listen while operating a car, as
it seemed quite dangerous that I was driving as my
tears were flooding my face.
Speaker 1 (01:56):
This is one of those stories.
Speaker 2 (01:58):
This is one of those stories. So if you need
to pull over, do it now.
Speaker 1 (02:02):
Without further ado. The gift of the Magi bio Henry
one dollar and eighty seven cents. That was all, and
sixty cents of it was in pennies pennies saved one
and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer, and
(02:24):
the vegetable man and the butcher, until one's cheeks burnt.
With the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing
implied three times. Della counted it one dollar and eighty
seven cents, and the next day would be Christmas. There
was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the
shabby little couch, and how so Della did it, which
(02:47):
instigates the moral reflection that life is made up of sobs, sniffles,
and smiles, with sniffles predominating, while the mistress of the
home is gradually subsiding from the first stage to the second.
Take a look at the home, a furnished flat at
eight dollars per week. It did not exactly beggar description,
(03:07):
but it certainly had that word on the lookout for
the mendicancy squad. In the vestibule below was a letter
box into which no letter would go, and an electric
button from which no mortal finger could coax a ring.
Also appertaining thereunto was a card bearing the name mister
James Dillingham Young. The Dillingham had been flung to the breeze.
(03:29):
During a former period of prosperity, when its possessor was
being paid thirty dollars per week, Now when the income
was shrunk to twenty dollars, the letters of Dillingham looked blurred,
as though they were thinking seriously of contracting to a
modest and unassuming d But whenever mister James Dillingham Young
came home and reached his flat above, he was called
(03:50):
Jim and greatly hugged by missus. James Dillingham Young already
introduced to you as Della, which is all very good.
Della finished her cry and attended to her cheeks with
the powder rag. She stood by the window and looked
out dully at a gray cat walking a gray fence
in a gray backyard. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and
(04:14):
she had only one dollar and eighty seven cents with
which to buy Jim a present. She'd been saving every
penny she could for months, with this result, twenty dollars
a week doesn't go far. Expenses had been greater than
she had calculated. They always are. Only one dollar eighty
seven to buy a present for Jim. Her Jim many
(04:35):
a happy hour. She had spent planning for something nice
for him, something fine and rare and sterling, something just
a little bit near to being worthy of the honor
of being owned by Jim. There was a peer glass
between the windows of the room. Perhaps you have seen
a peer glass in an eight dollar flat. A very
(04:56):
thin and very agile person may, by observing his reflection
in a rapid seatquence of longitudinal strips, obtain a fairly
accurate conception of his looks. Della, being slender, had mastered
the art. Suddenly she whirled from the window and stood
before the glass. Her eyes were shining brilliantly, but her
face had lost its color within twenty seconds. Rapidly she
(05:18):
pulled down her hair and let it fall to its
full length. Now there were two possessions of the James
Dillingham Youngs in which they both took a mighty pride.
One was Jim's gold watch that had been his father's
and his grandfather's. The other was Della's hair. Had the
Queen of Sheba lived in the flat across the airshaft,
(05:39):
Della would have let her hair hang out the window
some day to dry, just to depreciate her Majesty's jewels
and gifts. Had King Solomon been the janitor with all
his treasures piled up in the basement, Jim would have
pulled out his watch every time he passed, just to
see him pluck at his beard from envy. So now
Della's beautiful hair fell about her, rippling and shining like
(06:01):
a cascade of brown waters. It reached below her knee
and made itself almost a garment for her. And then
she did it up again, nervously and quickly. Once she
faltered for a minute and stood still while a tear
or two splashed on the worn red carpet. On went
her old brown jacket, On went her old brown hat.
With a whirl of skirts, and with the brilliant sparkle
still in her eyes, she fluttered out the door and
(06:24):
down the stairs to the street, where she stopped. The
sign read Madame Sophroni hair goods of all kinds one
flight up. Della ran and collected herself, panting, Madam large
two white chili. Hardly looked the SOPHRONI. Will you buy
my hair? Asked Della. I buy hair, said Madam. Take
your hat off, and let's have a sight at the
(06:46):
looks of it. Down, rippled the brown cascade. Twenty dollars,
said madam, lifting the mass with a practiced hand. Give
it to me, quick, said Della Oh. And the next
two hours tripped on rosy wings. Forget the hashed metaphor.
She was ransacking the stores for Jim's present. She found
it at last. It surely had been made for Jim
(07:08):
and no one else. There was no other like it
in any of the stores, and she had turned all
of them inside out. It was a platinum fob chain,
simple and chaste in design, properly proclaiming its value by
substance alone and not by meretricious ornamentation, as all good
things should do. It was even worthy of the watch.
As soon as she saw it, she knew that it
(07:31):
must be Jim's. It was like him, quietness and value.
The description applied to both twenty one dollars they took
from her for it, and she hurried home with the
eighty seven cents. With that chain on his watch, Jim
might be properly anxious about the time in any company.
Grand as the watch was, he sometimes looked at it
(07:51):
on the sly on account of the old leather strap
that he used in place of a chain. When Della
reached home, her intoxication gave way a little to prudence,
and she got out her curling irons and lighted the
gas and went to work on repairing the ravages made
by generosity added to love, which is always a tremendous task,
dear friends, a mammoth task. Within forty minutes, her head
(08:13):
was covered with tiny, close lying curls that made her
look wonderfully like a truant schoolboy. She looked at her
reflection in the mirror long, carefully and critically. If Jim
doesn't kill me, she said to herself, before he takes
a second look at me, he'll say, I look like
a Coney Island chorus girl. But what could I do? Oh?
What could I do with a dollar and eighty seven cents.
(08:37):
At seven o'clock, the coffee was made and the frying
pan was on the back of the stove, hot and
ready to cook the chops. Jim was never late. Della
doubled the fob chain in her hand and sat on
the corner of the table near the door that he
always entered. Then she heard his step on the stair
away down on the first flight, and she turned white.
For just a moment. She had a habit for saying little,
silent prayers about the simplest everyday things. And now she whispered,
(09:01):
Please God, make him think I'm still pretty. The door
opened and Jim stepped in and closed it. He looked
thin and very serious. Poor fellow. He was only twenty
two and to be burdened with a family. He needed
a new overcoat, and he was without gloves. Jim stopped
inside the door, as immovable as a setter at the
scent of a quail. His eyes were fixed upon Della,
(09:22):
and there was an expression in them that she could
not read, and it terrified her. It was not anger,
nor surprise, nor disapproval, nor horror, nor any of the
sentiments that she had been prepared for. He simply stared
at her fixedly, with that peculiar expression on his face.
Della wriggled off the table and went for him, Jim Darling,
(09:45):
She cried, don't look at me that way. I had
my hair cut off and sold it because I couldn't
have lived through Christmas without giving you a present. It'll
grow out again. You won't mind, will you. I just
had to do it. My hair grows awfully fast. Say
Merry Christmas, Jim, and let's be happy. I don't know
what a nice what a beautiful, nice gift I've got
for you. You've cut off your hair, asked Jim laboriously, as
(10:08):
if he had not arrived at that patent fact. Yet,
even after the hardest mental labor, cut it off and
sold it, said Della, don't you like me just as well? Anyhow?
I'm me without my hair, ain't I? Jim looked about
the room curiously. You say your hair is gone, he said,
with an air almost of idiocy. You needn't look for it,
(10:29):
said Della. It's sold, I tell you, sold and gone too.
It's Christmas, Eve boy, be good to me, for it
weren't for you. Maybe the hairs of my head were numbered,
she went on with sudden serious sweetness. But nobody could
ever count my love for you. Shall I put the
jobs on Jim? Out of his trance, Jim seemed quickly
to wake. He unfolded his Della for ten seconds. Let
(10:50):
us regard with discreet scrutiny some inconsequential object in the
other direction. Eight dollars a week or a million a year?
What's the difference? A mathematician or a wit would give
you the wrong answer. The magi brought valuable gifts, but
that was not among them. This dark assertion will be
(11:11):
illuminated later on. Jim drew a package from his overcoat
pocket and threw it upon the table. Don't make any mistake, Dell,
he said about me. I don't think there's anything in
the way of a haircut, or a shave, or a
shampoo that could make me like my girl any less.
But if you'll unwrap that package, you may see why
(11:31):
you had me going a while. At first white fingers,
a nimble tore at the string and paper, and then
an ecstatic scream of joy, and then alas a quick
feminine change to hysterical tears and whales, necessitating the immediate
employment of all the comforting powers of the Lord of
the flat. For there lay the combs, the set of
(11:53):
combs side and back that Della had worshiped long in
a Broadway window, beautiful carmes, pure tortoise shell, with jeweled rims,
just the shade to wear in the beautiful vanished hair.
They were expensive combs, she knew, and her heart had
simply craved and yearned over them without the least hope
(12:15):
of possession, and now they were hers. But the tresses
that should have adorned the coveted adornments were gone, But
she hugged them to her bosom, and at length she
was able to look up with dim eyes and smile
and say, my hair grows so fast. Jim, and then
Della leaped up like a little singed cat and cried, oh, oh.
(12:40):
Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held
it out to him eagerly upon her open palm. The dull,
precious metals seemed to flash with the reflection of her
bright and ardent spirit. Isn't it Dandie Jim? I hunted
all over town to find it. You'll have to look
at the time one hundred times a day. Now, give
(13:00):
me a watch. I want to see how it looks
on it. Instead of obeying, Jim tumbled down on the
couch and put his hands under the back of his
head and smiled. Dell said he let's put our Christmas
presents away and keep them awhile they're too nice to use.
Just at present. I sold the watch to get the
money to buy your combs. Now suppose you put the
(13:24):
chops on the Magie, as you know, were wise men,
wonderfully wise men who brought gifts to the Babe in
the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents.
Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly
bearing the privilege of exchange in case of duplication. And
here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle
(13:46):
of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely
sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house.
But in a last word to the wise of these days,
let it be said that of all who give gifts,
these two were the wisest of all who give and
receive gifts. Such as they are wisest everywhere they are wisest.
(14:10):
They are magi. And that's the gift of the magi.
By O Henry. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need
to go blow my nose and wipe my eyes.
Speaker 2 (14:21):
Well, I do too.
Speaker 3 (14:26):
What I love about this story is that they each
knew each other so well they knew exactly what the
other would need, and it was in need. And yet
because of the love that they shared for each other,
they were willing to sacrifice the thing that mattered most
(14:47):
to them, because at the end of the day, it's
actually not about things, it's about the person that you
spend you choose to spend your life with. And so
the magic in this story is the recognition that at
Christmas time, every day should be an opportunity to celebrate
the ones we love. But we have this beautiful opportunity
(15:08):
on Christmas Day to acknowledge those people that enrich and
brighten our lives.
Speaker 1 (15:15):
Whatever it takes, find a way to make a difference
in the lives of those you love. We've only got
a couple of days of the podcast to go until
we wrap things up, but as we move towards Christmas,
we just hope that you have such a wonderful festive season.
The Happy Families podcast is produced by Justin Rulon from
Bridge Media. If you like more info about making your
family happy, you can get it all a Happy Families
dot com dot a you
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