Editorial
Dudley marvelled at the miniature Christmas village that he rescued from the dumpster behind his old tenement where people shout all day.
He just couldn’t believe anyone would throw it away, especially this time of year, although only a couple of residents had bothered to string Christmas lights on their balcony.
The dreamy little village consisted of a cluster of houses, with a pond at the bottom of the hill, where a holiday-attired boy was skating.
With eager anticipation Dudley scooped up his new-found treasure and whisked it away before anyone else saw it. He was afraid that Brucey, the bully, who lived across the alley, would certainly steal it if given the chance. Brucey always called him Dudley “do-little” and had a habit of launching marbles at him with his slingshot made from a clothes hanger. May he get a lump of coal in his stocking, Dudley mused with a lopsided grin.
Once inside his apartment, Dudley rushed to his room, closed the tattered blinds and scrambled under the bed where it was dark. He was so excited to see if the village worked that his hand trembled as it reached for the wall socket to plug it in.
Sadly, only one house lit up, but it was better than nothing, he thought.
He lay there in wonder, mesmerized by the scene; the windows were bathed in yellow light, snow was piled up on the gables, and an old fashioned sled full of children was being pushed by their father.
The boy’s imagination soared as he envisioned himself walking up the front steps of the house and knocking on the door. A rotund lady wearing a blue apron invited him in, saying they were just about to have Christmas dinner. Would you like to join us? Yes, please, Dudley replied meekly, noting all of the lavish decorations, including a real balsam fir tree that touched the ceiling. There must have been 20 presents under its boughs!
After the succulent meal, the family sang Christmas carols by the fireplace and drank hot chocolate with marshmallows in it.
With candy cane in mouth, Dudley left the abode shortly after, toting a large gift under his arm; he could hardly wait to open it when he got home. However, he soon decided to give the elaborately wrapped box to his mother because she deserved it more than him.
When Dudley finally made it back home, he discovered that he lost the gift somewhere in the snow. He retraced his steps, but couldn’t find it anywhere, not even under his bed.
Oh, well, he sighed, the magic village would be his gift to his mom and they would both travel back there for Christmas.
Lyonel Doherty, editor
