–”My father is a mirror in which I can only hope to catch a reflection of myself. He is the one I strive to model myself after.”–

“Where would we be right now if I did not have the restaurant? How else would I be able to provide for our family? Who would give me, a man without an education, a job?” My father would say these things whenever we had a father-to-son conversation. We would usually have these talks on car rise to the stores that supply our restaurant.

I would look at my father, a clean-shaven man with short curly hair, with the greatest admiration. He’s a tall man with a strong chest sticking out, like the super heroes I used to watch on the Saturday morning cartoons. He would tell me stories of long, hard hours spent working in the hot kitchen and helping all the customers. Now I stay up late on weekends to welcome him when he comes home. I sit with him, and hope that he will tell me something wise. He always knows how to inspire me. i could never understand how he grew to be so wise without even having the opportunity to complete high school.

My father would tell me how hard his life was and how he continues to work so I will never see such day. He would say how few men would put in the hours he has. I know that he does not say these things for special recognition but to scare me away from a future of manual labor.

“Make sure you get a job where you have to wear a tie!” he’d always say with a smile. They were liek a paintbrush that began painting this beautiful picture in my head that I have entitled my goal in life.

My father has worked day in and day out, with few days off, for 20 years, never complaining. He would explain how this is what he had to do to make my future better. My father worked so I could go to the best schools. He worked to supply me with opportunities that would provide a job where I had to wear a tie.

My father is a mirror in which I can only hope to catch a reflection of myself. He is the one I strive to model myself after. One day, when I make a great name for myself as a doctor, someone will ask, “Where did you get such a great work ethic?”

“My father!” I’ll say, adjusting my tie. And I’ll smile.

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Edward Wellman bade goodbye to his family in the old country headed for a better life in America. Papa handed him the family’s savings hidden in a leather satchel. “Times are desperate here,” he said, hugging his son goodbye. “You are our hope.”

Edward boarded the Atlantic freighter offering free transport to young men willing to shovel coal in return for the month-long journey. If Edward struck gold in the Colorado Rockies, the rest of the family could eventually join him.

For months, Edward worked his claim tirelessly, and the small vein of gold provided a moderate but steady income. At the end of each day, as he walked through the door of his two-room cabin, he yearned for the woman he loved to greet him. Leaving Ingrid behind before he could officially court her had been his only regret in accepting this American adventure. Their families had been friends for years and for as long as he could remember, he had secretly hoped to make Ingrid his wife. Her long, flowing hair and radiant smile made her the most beautiful of the Henderson sisters. He had just begun sitting by her at church picnics and making up silly reasons to stop by her house, just so he could see her. As he went to sleep in his cabin each night, Edward longed to stroke her hair and hold her in his arms. Finally, he wrote to Papa, asking him to help make his dream come true.

After nearly a year, a telegraph came with a plan to make his life complete. Mr. Henderson had agreed to send his daughter to Edward in America. Because she was a hardworking young woman with a good mind for business, she would work alongside Edward for a year to help the mining business grow. By then both families could afford to come to America for their wedding.

Edward’s heart soared with joy as he spent the next month trying to make the cabin into a home. He bought a cot for him to sleep on in the living area and tried to make his former bedroom suitable for a woman. Floral cloth from flour sacks replaced the burlap-bag curtains covering the dirty window. He arranged dried sage from the meadow into a tin can on the nightstand.

At last, the day he had been waiting for his whole life arrived. With a bouquet of fresh-picked daisies in hand, he left for the train depot. Steam billowed and wheels screeched as the train crawled to a stop. Edward scanned every window looking for Ingrid’s glowing hair and smile.

His heart beat with eager anticipation, then stopped with a sinking thud. Not Ingrid, but her older sister Marta, stepped down from the train. She stood shyly before him, her eyes cast down.

Edward only stared-dumbfounded. Then with shaking hands he offered Marta the bouquet. “Welcome,” he whispered, his eyes burning. A smile etched across her plain face.

“I was pleased when Papa said you sent for me,” Marta said, looking into his eyes briefly, before dropping her head again.

“I’ll get your bags,” Edward said with a fake smile. Together they headed for the buggy.

Mr. Henderson and Papa were right. Marta did have a great grasp of business. While Edward worked the mine, she worked the office. From her makeshift desk in one corner of the living area, she kept detailed records of all claim activity. Within six months, their assets doubled.
Her delicious meals and quiet smile graced the cabin with a wonderful woman’s touch. But the wrong woman, Edward mourned as he collapsed onto his cot each night. Why did they send Marta? Would he ever see Ingrid again? Was his lifelong dream to have her as his wife forsaken?

For a year, Marta and Edward worked and played and laughed, but never loved.Once, Marta had kissed Edward on the cheek before retiring to her room. He only smiled awkwardly. From then on, she seemed content with their exhilarating hikes in the mountains and long talks on the porch after suppers.

One spring afternoon, torrential rains washed down the hillside, eroding the entrance to their mine. Furiously, Edward filled sand bags and stacked them in the water’s path. Soaked and exhausted, his frantic efforts seemed futile. Suddenly there was Marta at his side holding the next burlap bag open. Edward shoveled sand inside, then with the strength of any man, Marta hurled it onto the pile and opened another bag… For hours they worked, knee-deep in mud, until the rains diminished.

Hand in hand, they walked back to the cabin. Over warm soup Edward sighed, “I never could have saved the mine without you. Thank you, Marta.”

“You’re welcome,” she answered with her usual smile, then went quietly to her room.

A few days later, a telegraph came announcing the arrival of the Henderson and Wellman families next week. As much as he tried to stifle it, the thought of seeing Ingrid again started Edward’s heart beating in the old familiar way.

Together, he and Marta went to the train station. They watched as their families exited the train at the far end of the platform. When Ingrid appeared, Marta turned to Edward. “Go to her,” she said.

Astonished, Edward stammered, “What do you mean?”
“Edward, I have always known I was not the Henderson girl you intended to send for. I had watched you flirt with Ingrid at the church picnics.” She nodded toward her sister descending the train steps. “I know it is she, not me, you desire for your wife.” “But…”
Marta placed her fingers over his lips. “Shh,” she hushed him. “I do love you, Edward. I always have. And because of that, all I really want is your happiness. Go to her.”

He took her hand from his face and held it. As she gazed up at him, he saw for the first time how beautiful she was. He recalled their walks in the meadows, their quiet evenings before the fire, her working beside him with the sandbags. It was then he realized what he had known for months.

“No, Marta. It is you I want.” Sweeping her into his arms, he kissed her with all the love bursting inside him. Their families gathered around them chorusing, “We are here for the wedding!”

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Ronald Jager

–Year after year, it bears the fruit of blind faith…

That June evening I was about ten. As I stood on our front porch, my eye caught an unusual plant, not more than five inches high. It was the merest seedling, but my father identified it as a young apple tree. Immediately I adopted it. I would transplant it, care for it as my own, and it would thrive. When I was a man and farmed this land, it would bear good apples for me.

Dad proposed a spot between the driveway and garden, and that evening he dug up the sod for me. I planted my little tree there. In my innocence about fruit trees, I did not know that apple trees grown from seeds-rather than grafts like the trees in our orchard-are often barren or bear only inferior fruit. If my father knew it, he chose not to disturb my optimism.

I took a boy’s cre of my tree, alternately negligent and tenderly attentive. I cheered it on as it slowly prospered in the face of weeds and the regular predations of our workhorse Pearl, who was partial to its taste and tried to snatch a branch whenever she could.

Came the years when my tree had a few blossoms but no fruit. Later I read disquieting news in a high-school textbook: apple seed trees often produce a prehistoric crabbed and wizened apple. Had I only known. Still, it was a nice tree and I was fond of it, so I pruned it by the book. At least it would look good. Then I went off to college and forgot about my tree.

My back was hardly turned when it began to bear-slowly at first, then generously, then extravagantly-tasty and versatile apples. They were good for eating and for sauce, superb for drying, and more free of insects and disease than those from our orchard trees.

For 35 years now, my tree has poured forth its nearly flawless bounty. Twenty bushels is nothing for that tree. Every autumn, relatives and neighbors come to shake the branches and bear the surplus fruit away.

I had foreseen it all. This perfectual bounty is what i fully expected all those years when I didn’t know what I was doing. With even a little learning in these matters, I would not have bothered to transplant or tend the tree. it was nurtured on blind faith, and the harvest that was all but impossible becomes now all but inevitable.

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As I stared vacantly at the disappearing Atlanta lights, I realized I was different from the fun-loving youngster who had reversed this route a year earlier. Thanks to an unrelenting tropical sun, my skin was darker. And I was more subdued- a hair-raising episode or two had impressed on me the merits of a low profile. Finally, baby fat had given way to a leaner body.

This trip had been the focus of my life for the past year. Like every soldier in every war, those of us in Vietnam had but one overpowering desire: to go home. We spoke of home in reverent terms and built it up to mythical proportions. We called it The World.

The World was a place where people slept in real beds, took hot showeres every day and didn’t have to keep their stell helmet, flak vest and M-16 rifle within lunging distance. In The World, buddies had nothing better to do than pack sandwiches and go hunting together, and all the pretty girls smelled nice and wore dresses.

For a year we dreamed, discussed and planned on going home. To start a conversation all you had to do was ask, “Hey, what are you gonna do when you get back to The World?”

If you’ve never come from a war, picture it like this: all your life you’ve dreamed of being rich. Of course, you knew there was not much chance of its actually happening, but it was fun to daydream. Then, out of nowhere, a huge inheritance and your dream comes true. But after you’ve concentrated on the dream so long, to separate it from the reality is tough- and disorienting. That’s what coming home from a war is like.

There had already been one culture shock. That morning, while I was passing through San Francisco International Airport, it struck me that nobody had a gun. It would be a piece of cake for a few Viet Cong to slip up to the terminal doors, blow them and enter unopposed.

I sat nervously, eyes glued to the door, and worked out what I’d do if they showed up before I could get out. I knew i was being silly. But my eyes never left the door. Yeah, you could call me disoriented.

It was 10:30pm when the plane finally touched down in my hometown of Columbia, S.C. Sometime during the long glide in, I had started crying softly. Here was this infantry officer, his chest covered with combat and service-award ribbons, crying. Fortunately, nobody was watching.

As we pulled to a stop, I regained control. I walked to the front of the plane and peered out. Behind the security barricades stood a small group of people staring at us.

With a deep breath, I stood straight and stepped onto the stairway. The five people behind the barricades went nuts. I froze momentarily, then groped my way down the stairs and began to recognize faces. There was Mom, scanning me as she went through the age-old checklist: two eyes, two arms, two legs, no scars or wounds.

Dad stood beside her, arm around her waist. His expression said, He looks fine, but I wonder… From experience in World War II, he knew there was more to homecomings than meets the eye.

My two rotten little brothers were the most animated. But somehow they seemed less rotten, and certainly less little.

Next to them was the stuff of every soldier’s dreams. She was wearing a red-plaid skirt and waving wildly. I was tired, but I wasn’t dead- now that was something.

Then it hit me. Every soldier who had viewed The World as some thing or place was wrong. It never was hot showers, soft beds or hunting trips.

The World was the people –our loved ones- who wrote us, prayed for us and waited for us. They were what was important. And my world was standing behind the barricade 25 yards away.

With that understanding came the end to a long year. I was with the people I cared for and, once again, everything was as it should be. My war was finally over.

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Knowing that Mrs. Mallard was afflicted with a heart trouble, great care was taken to break to her as gently as possible the news of her husband’s death.

It was her sister Josephine who told her, in broken sentences; veiled hints that revealed in half concealing. Her husband’s friend Richards was there, too, near her. It was he who had been in the newspaper office when intelligence of the railroad disaster was received, with Brently Mallard’s name leading the list of “killed.” He had only taken the time to assure himself of its truth by a second telegram, and had hastened to forestall any less careful, less tender friend in bearing the sad message.

She did not hear the story as many women have heard the same, with a paralyzed inability to accept its significance. She wept at once, with sudden, wild abandonment, in her sister’s arms. When the storm of grief had spent itself she went away to her room alone. She would have no one follow her.

There stood, facing the open window, a comfortable, roomy armchair. Into this she sank, pressed down by a physical exhaustion that haunted her body and seemed to reach into her soul.

She could see in the open square before her house the tops of trees that were all a quiver with the new spring life. The delicious breath of rain was in the air. In the street below a peddler was crying his wares. The notes of a distant song which some one was singing reached her faintly, and countless sparrows were twittering in the eaves.

There were patches of blue sky showing here and there through the clouds that had met and piled one above the other in the west facing her window.

She sat with her head thrown back upon the cushion of the chair, quite motionless, except when a sob came up into her throat and shook her, as a child who has cried itself to sleep continues to sob in its dreams.

She was young, with a fair, calm face, whose lines bespoke repression and even a certain strength. But now there was a dull stare in her eyes, whose gaze was fixed away off yonder on one of those patches of blue sky. It was not a glance of reflection, but rather indicated a suspension of intelligent thought.

There was something coming to her and she was waiting for it, fearfully. What was it? She did not know; it was too subtle and elusive to name. But she felt it, creeping out of the sky, reaching toward her through the sounds, the scents, the color that filled the air.

Now her bosom rose and fell tumultuously. She was beginning to recognize this thing that was approaching to possess her, and she was striving to beat it back with her will–as powerless as her two white slender hands would have been. When she abandoned herself a little whispered word escaped her slightly parted lips. She said it over and over under the breath: “free, free, free!” The vacant stare and the look of terror that had followed it went from her eyes. They stayed keen and bright. Her pulses beat fast, and the coursing blood warmed and relaxed every inch of her body.

She did not stop to ask if it were or were not a monstrous joy that held her. A clear and exalted perception enabled her to dismiss the suggestion as trivial. She knew that she would weep again when she saw the kind, tender hands folded in death; the face that had never looked save with love upon her, fixed and gray and dead. But she saw beyond that bitter moment a long procession of years to come that would belong to her absolutely. And she opened and spread her arms out to them in welcome.

There would be no one to live for during those coming years; she would live for herself. There would be no powerful will bending hers in that blind persistence with which men and women believe they ahve a right to impose a private will upon a fellow-creature. A kind intention or a cruel intention made the act seem no less a crime as she looked upon it in that brief moment of illumination.

And yet she had loved him–sometimes. Often she had not. What did it matter! What could love, the unsolved mystery, count for in the face of this possession of self-assertion which she suddenly recognized as the strongest impulse of her being!

“Free! Body and soul free!” she kept whispering.

Josephine was kneeling before the closed door with her lips to the keyhole, imploring for admission. “Louise, open the door! I beg; open the door–you will make yourself ill. What are you doing, Louise? For heaven’s sake open the door.”

“Go away. I am not making myself ill.” No; she was drinking in a very elixir of life through that open window.

Her fancy was running riot along those days ahead of her. Spring days, and summer days, and all sorts of days that would be her own. She breathed a quick prayer that life might be long. It was only yesterday she had thought with a shudder that life might be long.

She arose at length and opened the door to her sister’s importunity. There was a feverish triumph in her eyes, and she carried herself unwittingly like a goddess of Victory. She clasped her sister’s waist, and together they descended the stairs. Richards stood waiting for them at the bottom.

Some one was opening the front door with a latchkey. It was Brently Mallard who entered, a little travel-stained, composedly carrying his grip-sack and umbrella. He had been far from the scene of the accident, and did not even know there had been one. He stood amazed at Josephine’s piercing cry; at Richards’ quick motion to screen him from the view of his wife.

When the doctors came they said she had died of heart disease–of the joy that kills.

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They introduce them self each other and Mary ask him to make a tourniquet for stop her blood. The conflict happened when Mary wants to touch Joe, and Joe avoid from her then he wants to leave her alone. Mary said that Joe is the one who can help her with the tourniquet.

The climax happened when suddenly the tourniquet which is already done by Joe apart from Mary’s arm. She is starting bleeding to death again. Then Mary extends her arm to Joe. Joe looks very surprised when he noticed it.

He feels disappointed because he did not success to help Mary with the tourniquet which is already done by him for a while before. Mary call Joe more than three times and hope he would tie the tourniquet again. She was loosing too much blood. Then about the falling action when Mary lost her consciousness and Joe did not know about it. He still continue make a tourniquet then suddenly he saw Mary was lost her consciousness, Joe made the tourniquet very quickly and expertly. But although the tourniquet is tied Mary is not responding. And the last about the resolution when Joe thinks about giving her mouth to mouth to save Mary and then the police officer comes to them. Finally Joe and Mary get a slice of pie and they enjoy it.

In the beginning of the story, when we read this story we find each character in the play. The old lady in the story above describable arrogant, conceited and did not care with the other people who need her help. Besides there are two man. Man in the suit and the police officer. Man in the suit in this story describe that he is a drunkard, he was in confusion and he tried to help the old lady across the street. Police officer is a man who wants to arrest Mary, and in the last of the story the police officer came to arrest Joe because he think that Joe has already hurt Mary when Mary lost her conciseness. And the last person is Joe a man who has one leg and one arm and help Mary to make a tourniquet. He save this woman.

The essence or the message from the play, Mary is a symbol of society condition that need our sympathetic and our help, but sometimes we are not able to help the people that have a difficulty condition and need our help. In the final of the story there is a man his name Joe. Joe has a physical defect or handicap, and we can see with the bad condition he is able to be a good person who help Mary who is suffer from illness.

Besides, the story wants to remember us and notice ourselves that the social condition like above is a general fact that we meet everyday in every places.

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Once there was a poor but hardworking farmer. His name was Abdulah. His land is just a patch but he had a wife and children to live. That’s not enough. So he planned to work to Java. His wife agrees and supports him.
He went to Java with only 10 gobang money (1 gobang = 2.5 cents). It is only for the cost of sailing to Java.
On the way, he meets a poor woman who was holding her child, who looked pale famine. In her hand there was a basket with three cats inside. The woman came to Abdullah and asked him to buy her cats.
Abdullah think if he’s not helping her they might die of starvation. So his heart melted. She was offered five gobang for the three cats. But Abdullah have very little money so he offered three gobang and she agreed.

Arriving at the port, Abdullah chose to ride cheaper sailboat. But the trip turned out to be pursued with much difficulty because the wind was blowing very large and fast. The helmsman could not control the boat and the boat was eventually swayed by the rate carried by the wind.

Apparently the wind did not bring them to the Java but to the other way. An island they had never seen before. The island was named Rat Island, because the island was a lot of wandering rats. All residents have tried to kill, but the rats were almost endless, and even seemed to add much. Rice in the barn or in the fields, food supplies are also residents, all brushed away by the rats.

Seeing the situation, Abdullah remember of his cats. Then he showed and explained to the islanders that the animal he carries can root out and hunt rats. Then residents brought Abdullah to existing local Head Island.
“Is that true that your animal can eradicate the rats?” asked the head of the island, “if it’s true that I would dare to buy the star’s five pence per head.”

“Then, look at them first. If you interested please take them all. I have three cats”, Abdullah said.

Abdullah then took out a cat in a sack. Long time without eating, of course, the cat was feeling very hungry. Once he saw a rat in front of his eyes wander, just go ahead and chased by ferocious.
After being torn apart the cats instantly caught the rat. Account after eating one tail, the cat ran after the other mice and so on.
Head Island is very pleased to see that. And finally Abdullah even get 15 dinar (dinar currency = gold).

Abdullah delight his heart. Then he canceled his intention to go to the island of Java, and finally he went back to Madura.

Arriving in Madura, the money bought more land and he does own the land. Finally he became quite well-off.

Abdullah did not hesitate to tell his fortune to anyone who asked him. Apparently there are three villagers who want to speculate. They intend to follow in the footsteps like Abdullah. They are determined to sell the cats to the island of rats. All of the property they sell and bought the cats a lot. Once ready they hire a boat to the Rat Island.

But apparently now the rats on the island had been destroyed. After Abdullah’s three cats eat the rats on the island, they are full, and getting bigger, then breed. The offspring also eat other rat that remains, until finally the rats gone there.
They were disappointed and sad. All they attempts so far proved no use at all. They then returned to Madura with feelings of shame.

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Greg didn’t know that many young people think their parents don’t understand them. He believed he was the only boy who wasn’t able to please his family.

Greg was usually glad to be out of the house where no one could bother him. One Saturday morning, he told his parents he was going for a walk before breakfast, and they gave him money to get milk at the store. A few minutes after he left the house he couldn’t remember what he was supposed to buy. If he went home without it, his family would have something else to argue with him about.

As he went down the street thinking about what he should do, he saw an old man standing on the corner. The man looked very sick, and without thinking about it Greg went right over to him.
“Are you all right, sir?” he asked.
The old man answered slowly. “I think so– but I need a glass of water. I don’t want to bother you, but would you mind helping me…”
“Oh, you’re not bothering me,” Greg answered quickly. “I’d be glad to help you. Let’s go into the restaurant across the street where you can sit down.”
Greg helped the old man into the restaurant. They sat down at a table not far from the door. When the waiter asked them what they wanted, the old man said, “Just a glass of water, please. I don’t feel well.”
“Wouldn’t you like something to eat?” the waiter asked.
The old man didn’t answer and Greg asked him, “Have you had breakfast yet, sir? Perhaps if you eat something, you’ll feel a little better.”
“Well, truthfully I haven’t had breakfast,” the old man said. “I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday morning, but I don’t have any money for…”
Greg interrupted him saying, “Please don’t talk now. You can tell me all about it later.”
Then the boy turned to the waiter and said, “My friend would like some orange juice, hot cereal, buttered toast, and coffee.”
The old man started to say something and Greg asked him, “Would you rather havce something else? That’s what we usually have for breakfast…”
“Oh, no. It’s fine,” the man answered, “but I’m giving you too much trouble. I’ll just drink the water and leave. I’m sure I’ll be all right. You’ve helped me enough already.”
“Please, sir,” Greg said. “I’d like to do it.”
“And what would you like to eat?” the waiter asked Greg.
“Nothing for me,” Greg said. “I’ve already eaten my breakfast.” Greg wanted to eat, too, but knew he didn’t have enough money for both of them. He actually didn’t have enough for the old man’s breakfast. He was really going to be in trouble when the waiter asked for money, and this time it wouldn’t be with his parents. “Oh, well,” he said to himself, “I’ll think about that later.”

The waiter brought the breakfast and the old man ate quickly. “I feel fine now,” he said as he drank his coffee. “I’ll never forget how you helped me today. You’re a very unusual young man. Most people your age are too busy to think about helping an old man.”
Greg felt very good. The old man thought of him as a young man, not a child. He wished his parents felt this way.
“I must tell you how I happened to be in trouble,” the man said. “I’m on my way to visit my daughter in California. Yesterday I lost my money and I’m waiting for my daughter to mail me some more. I slept in the railroad station last night and didn’t have anything to eat. I don’t know what I would have done without your help.”
At this moment, the waiter came to the table and Greg didn’t know what he was going to say. He didn’t want the old man to know he didn’t have enough money.
The waiter spoke to the old man. “Was everything all right?”
“Oh, everything was just fine,” the old man told him.
“You know, sir,” the waiter said to the old man, “our restaurant is ten years old today. Since you are our tenth customer of the day, we are pleased to give you your breakfast as a gift.”
“Why, thank you very much,” the old man said. “This is an extremely good day for me.”
“I feel very good, too, thanks to you young man,” he said to Greg, “and I’m sure my money will be waiting for me at the post office.”
“This is a good day for me, too,” Greg said to himself as he and the old man left the restaurant. “I don’t know what I would have told that waiter if he had asked for money for the breakfast.”
Greg told the old man he would go with him to the post office, but the old man said, “No. Your family will be looking for you and I don’t want you to get into trouble with them. You’ve done enough for me already.”
Greg, who had forgotten all about himself and his family for over an hour, said good-bye and went home as fast as he could. Now he remembered that he had to get milk at the store, but there was no time for that. He was very late for breakfast. “I hope they didn’t wait for me,” he thought. “I don’t know what they’ll say when I tell them where I was, but it doesn’t matter. I’m glad I was able to help the old man.”
Greg’s parents were waiting at the door when he got home.
“Where were you?” his mother asked. “We looked for you all over the neighborhood.”
Greg told his mother and father about the old man and said he was sorry to be late and sorry he didn’t go to the store.
“That’s all right, Greg,” his father said. “We’re glad you were able to help someone else.”
As he went in the house, Greg was very happy. He had finally pleased his parents. He hoped he would be able to do it more often.
“What’s for breakfast, Mom?” he said. “I can’t wait to eat.”

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Eric wanted a very unusual gift for Janet’s birthday. He walked into a department store not knowing what to get for her. After going from one part of the store to another, he finally came to the jewelry department. At first, he didn’t see anything he liked here either, and he was about to leave when he saw a little silver pin in the shape of an elephant. Eric knew immediately that the pin was exactly what he wanted for Janet.
“May I see that?” Eric asked the salesman.
“The little silver elephant?” the salesman asked.
“Yes, that’s the one. It’s just what I’ve been looking for.”
“You’ve made a good choice. This piece of jewelry is very unusual. It was made in Mexico by a man who is well-known for his fine work in silver. There are only a few others like it. Would you like me to put it in a box? This small square box looks about the right size.”
“Yes, please put it in a gift box.”
“I’m certain Janet’s going to be very pleased,” Eric thought that evening as he got dressed to go to Janet’s birthday party. “She likes fine jewelry and this pin is very unusual.”

On the way to Janet’s house, Eric thought about George Perkins. He knew that Janet’s family and a few friends would be at the party. He didn’t know if George was one of the “few friends.” He was fairly sure George’s gift wouldn’t be anything as unusual as the silver elephant.

Eric was happy as he walked to Janet’s house. When she opened the door he said, “Happy…” and then stopped talking for a moment before going on, “… birthday, Janet.” He just couldn’t believe what he saw. There on Janet’s green dress was a little silver elephant pin. It was exactly the same as the one in his gift box. He couldn’t give it to her now. He put the little square box away before Janet could see it and went in the house to say hello to Janet’s mother and father.
“You’re early, Eric,” Mrs. West said. “None of the others are here yet. Please sit down. Can I get you something to drink?”
“Not now, thanks, Mrs. West,” Eric answered. All he could think about was the little silver elephant. He had to know where Janet had gotten it. Could George Perkins possibly have given it to her? At the office perhaps? Eric didn’t want to believe this, but he wasn’t the only one who knew Janet liked jewelry. George knew it, too.

Janet’s mother was still talking and Eric knew he should be listening to her. He had to forget about the little pin for a moment.
“How are things at the office, Eric?” Mrs. West was saying. “I understand you’ve been very busy during the last few months.”
“Fine–just fine–not too busy, no,” Eric said.
“That’s good,” Mrs. West answered. “Would you excuse us for a few minutes? I have to help Janet prepare a few things in the kitchen.”
“Oh–yes.” Eric was glad to see Mrs. West and Janet leave the room. He really didn’t want to talk to anyone–not about the office or about anything else. But Janet’s father was still there, and now he was talking.
“Have you seen this evening’s newspaper yet, Eric?” Mr. West asked. “There is a good story about…”

Janet’s father went on talking, but most of the time Eric wasn’t listening. Occasionally he would say, “You’re right, Mr. West,” or “I think so, too,” but he really wasn’t sure what Janet’s father was talking about. He couldn’t forget the elephant pin. Eric was positive he would be the only person at the party who wouldn’t have a gift for Janet. But he couldn’t give her something that she already had. How could he ask Janet to be his wife now? He didn’t know what to do.
“What do you think about television?” Mr. West was talking about a different subject now. “Don’t you think the programs could be better?”
“You’re absolutely right, Mr. West,” Eric answered. Janet came back in the room and Eric was glad he didn’t have to say any more about television. He started to tell Janet he liked the pin on her dress, thinking that he might learn where it came from. But just at this moment someone came to the door.
“It must be my aunt and uncle,” Janet told Eric. “My friend, Marie, who lives next door, will be with us, too.”
“Isn’t anyone else from the office coming?” Eric asked.
“No,” she answered, then went to meet her aunt and uncle at the door.

Now Eric was almost certain the pin was from George. He must have given it to Janet in the office during the day. What should he do? Should he say he had left his gift at home? Should he say he was getting something in New York and would give it to her later in the week?

Marie came in a few minutes later, and everyone sat down to have dinner.
The only good thing Eric could think about was that he was at the family dinner party and George was not.
Finally Janet asked him why he wasn’t talking very much.
“I’m too busy eating this very good dinner,” he answered. He couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Thank you, Eric,” Mrs. West said. “I’m very glad you like it. Won’t you have some more?”

Eric didn’t really want to eat anything, but he wasn’t able to say no. He wished he could leave the table and go home, but he couldn’t do that, either.
Finally it was time for the birthday cake. “There are twenty-one candles on the cake, Janet,” Mrs. West said as she brought the cake in and put it on the dinner table. “Do you think you can blow them all out?”
“Make a wish first,” Marie said to Janet. “Wish for something that you want very much before you blow out the candles. If all the candles go out, you will get your wish. If not, then you won’t. Let’s see if you’ll get your wish.”
“I wish I had a silver elephant pin,” Janet said and she blew out all the candles.
“What?” said Eric. “What did you say?”
“The pin on my dress isn’t mine. It’s Marie’s. She thought it looked good on this dress and she said I could have it for this evening. It’s a very unusual piece of jewelry. Marie’s mother got it when she was in Mexico last year.”
Eric quickly put his little square box with the other gifts. He couldn’t wait for Janet to open it.
“It’s time to open your gifts now, Janet,” Mrs. West said.
“Yes,” said her father. “Let’s see if you get your wish.”

Janet opened all her gifts. She got a box of writing paper from George. He had given it to her at the office. Her parents gave her a typewriter, her aunt and uncle gave her some phonograph records, and Marie gave her a book. Then Janet opened the little square box. When she saw the pin, she said, “Eric, how could you possibly have known? It’s exactly what I want. You’ve made me very happy. I knew that your gift would be very unusual.”

Janet got her wish, and now Eric was sure he would get his wish, too. Tonight he would ask Janet to be his wife.

Other post

• March 19, 2009 -- Introductory Note (35)
• April 16, 2009 -- 5. The Black Cat (21)
• January 21, 2010 -- THE PERICOS (21)
• August 29, 2009 -- 1. Left Alone In The Little Hut (15)
• April 16, 2009 -- 4. Boat to Beirut (10)

* * *

Once, in an area in Vietnam, lived a happy couple with two twin boys named Tang and Lan. Twin brother were both handsome and clever. Their noses sharp and round eyes shining. Both love each other. Wherever they go, they were always together.

One day, Tang and Lan’s father was seriously ill. There have been many doctors who treated him, but the pain doesn’t go away, and finally died. The whole family was heartbroken, especially Tang mothers and Lan. Therefore a deep sadness, Tang and Lan’s mother would not eat until she fell ill. Not long ago, they mother died. So, Tang and Lan stay as an orphan.

Although their parents were dead, Tang and Lan still have passion for life. Therefore they have no relatives in the village, they had decided to go into town to seek his father’s best friend is named Judge Luu, hoping that Judge Luu can help find employment for them.

After preparing all the logistics, they were off to the city. Arriving in town, they asked, here there for Justice Luu home address, because they had never been to town before. After a long search, they finally found a home Luu Judge.

“Brother, this is right. This was my uncle’s house, “Lan said, pointing to Tang the attached nameplate on the door of the house.

“Knock …! Knock…! Knock…! Excuse …!!!” Tang said, tapping the door.

“Yes … a minute! “came a voice from inside the house.

Not long ago, seemed a tall man opened the door fat. Behind him was a white girl was spying.

“Eeeh … Lan and Tang! Come in!” said Judge Luu.

“Thank you, Uncle!” said Tang and Lan.

Before allow to sit, Judge Luu first introduced her daughter to them. Judge Luu’s daughter is a smart little girl, but shy. When she met with Tang and Lan, her cheeks flushed.

“How did you get here?” asked Judge Luu.

Hearing the question, Tang and Lan looked at each other.

“Looks like you both have a problem. What is it, son?” asked Judge Luu.

“Yes, uncle, we’re sorry. Two weeks ago our fathers died of illness,” Tang said sadly.

“Huh, died! Why don’t you let me know?” Judge Luu asked with surprise.

“Then, what about your mother?” He added with worry.

“Look, Uncle. After the death of father, mother would not eat until she fell ill. A few days later, she was following father, “said Tang.

“I am condolences over the death of your parents. You know you don’t have anyone else. So, you can stay in this house with us, “said Judge Luu.

“Thank you, Uncle!” said Tang and Lan simultaneously.

Since then, Tang and Lan stay at home Judge Luu. They are industrious and diligent helps Judge Luu selling in stores. Judge Luu loved them like his own child.

Time passed. Lan Tang and grow into a handsome young man and intelligent. They behaviors and manners captivate everyone. Judge Luu’ daughter was growing up and getting pretty. Apparently, Tang and Lan secretly paying attention to the shy Judge Luu’s daughter. However, they were embarrassed and didn’t dare say it.

On one day, intent on the liver arising Judge Luu to marry one of them with his daughter. However, he couldn’t determine who will be chosen, because they have the looks and mannerisms are similar. Finally, he invited the twins to deliberation.

“Son, I intend to marry my daughter. But, I still confused to choose one of you, “said Judge Luu.

“With Tang course, Uncle!” said Lan.

“No, Uncle! Lan course!” protested Tang.

Judge Luu even more confused to see the twins were pointed at each other. He must choose one of them. To that, Judge Luu want to know who among them are older and are entitled to marry his daughter. He then asked the daughter to provide food bowl and a pair of chopsticks in front of the Tang and Lan. As Judge Luu allows them to dine, Lan immediately took the chopsticks, then handed it over to Tang politely. Tang accepted. Seeing this, Judge Luu knows that Tang is the older. So, Tang was elected into law.

Their wedding was held with great fanfare. Various arts and dance performances staged. Invitation came from various countries. Even many royal lords came to the party. The invitation join the happy couple were seen sitting on the dais alongside.

The young bride’s life was very happy. Tang often write poems and sing love to portray a sense of happiness. Because too much fun with his new life, Tang forget Lan. He never again talked and sat and talked with his brother. Lan initially understand. However, the day of the Tang attitudes don’t care anymore to him, so that Lan felt lonely.

“So unfortunately I am. Brother had already forgotten me. What is the point being here if not talk at all, “Lan said with sadness.

Lan then wandered alone was determined to remove his grief. He also left the city without the knowledge of the Tang and the family of Judge Luu. He walked without direction and purpose, to follow where the legs move. He has spent much of the forests, the mountain he climbed, and he crossed the river, but his sadness doesn’t go away from the heart.

One day, when it grew dark, he arrived at a beautiful beach and cool. Lan looking for a place to stay, but didn’t find a place to shelter. His stomach was very hungry too, because it was a few days not filled by any food. Over time, his body grew weaker, and finally died on the spot. It is said that Lan’s body turned into a white limestone.

In the meantime, Tang is realized his brother had been away from home feeling very sorry. With feelings of sadness and grief, he went looking for his brother. After walking through dense forest, hiking, and cross the river, he reached the shore where his brother died. By being too tired, he sat down on the beach watching the waves.

“Lan, my brother! Where are you? I’m very sorry for neglecting you, “said Tang said, sobbing.

During the two days and two nights sitting on the beach, Tang’s incessant crying. He also didn’t eat and drink, so sick. Finally he died on the spot, and his body turned into a tree nut.

Meanwhile, Tang’s wife was fed up waiting for the return of her husband. She went looking for her lovely husband. She kept walking tirelessly until finally reaching the coast which is also where her husband died. By being too tired, she sat against a tree nut on the beach crying nonstop. Gradually the body becomes weak helpless, and finally died. His body was turned into a tree and wrapped in betel nut tree which is none other than her own incarnation.

* * *

Origin stories such Limestone, Box, and Pinang from Vietnam. To commemorate the event, local residents built a synagogue on the beach, so that their love is sincere can be imitated. Among Malays Vietnamese communities, lime, betel and areca become a symbol of love.

The moral story on the legend, at least two moral messages that can be learned from the story above, the primacy of love and the nature of the impact properties lost in happiness.

The nature of love, this character is reflected in the attitudes and behavior of Tang and his wife are willing to walk far to find the people they care about. However, there is a lesson to be drawn from these events that, if loves or loved one should not be excessive, so out of control and endanger his soul. In Malays life, the nature of love is given priority, but within reasonable limits. Told in a string of poetry:

Oh dear, listen to the fairy
Love each other is praiseworthy
Good care of yourself
Don’t hurt others heart

The effects of drift in the nature of happiness, this described by the attitudes and behaviors that Tang lost in his home life, so he ignored his own brother. As a result, his brother had left, because he felt lonely. From here can be learned a lesson that happiness in family life can cause a person to forget to brothers and the people around him.

Other post

• March 19, 2009 -- Introductory Note (35)
• April 16, 2009 -- 5. The Black Cat (21)
• January 21, 2010 -- THE PERICOS (21)
• August 29, 2009 -- 1. Left Alone In The Little Hut (15)
• April 16, 2009 -- 4. Boat to Beirut (10)