The Christmas tree sparkled with lights and too many shiny plastic icicles, but it captured all my child’s heart wished for. Underneath the tree sat one package my dad bought for me. My dad did not shop, not even for Christmas. That was Mom’s job. This year was different. He had been away working on the railroad and when he came home he carried a package for me and my brother. The first and only gift I remember from that year, 1959, a “Gail of the Golden West” cowgirl doll, about as tall as I was, still has a place in my home and heart.
The worth of Gail does not lie in her cost but in the value it gave me in my father’s eyes. The time he took from himself and gave to think of me makes her priceless.
If taking time to think of another gives one value…
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