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December 25 
This was
my sports column in the Portland Oregonian on Christmas Day 1987. I was young. And idealistic.
A little boy, Henri, lived in northeastern France, along the Rhine River. In December 1939, his little village
was flanked by troops - French and German. The Germans were on their nation's side of the Rhine, camped beyond the raised
railroad tracks that ran parallel to the river. Yet a few occasionally wandered to the river, within sight of the village,
to wash and drink. Henri's father was stationed somewhere to the north. Henri hadn't seen him since Germany
invaded Poland on September 1, causing France and Great Britain to declare war. So far in France, it was being called the
"drole de guerre" -- the odd war of silence. In Germany, Adolf Hitler was denouncing the weather that
forced him to push back the date of the Western offensive, once planned for November.
Many
of the families in Henri's village had fled. Others, like Henri and his mother, stubbornly remained. Henri didn't
understand the political complexities, but he did sense he was living in a time of nightmares, not fulfilled dreams.
During Christmas week, Henri's mother sang carols to him and made him gifts by candlelight
after he was in bed. Henri had been considering asking for a new football, so he and his village friends could kick
it around in their meadow game. He thought of the joy that could bring. For months, there had been no new balls for the remaining
children. The old ones were in tatters and misshapen.
Yet Henri decided
he rather would have something else. One day as he and his mother walked through the village, he said he had wished that his
father -- and all the fathers -- could come home before anyone else was hurt or killed. Henri's mother stopped and hugged him tightly. She wiped her eyes with her hands. When she grasped Henri's hand again, he noticed their hands were wet. Awakening on Christmas morning, Henri spotted the new football in the middle of the cottage. He smelled the new leather, then sensed a warm glow
radiating from the ball. His mother was stunned. "But who...?" she asked. She had no idea where it had come from;
her homemade gifts for Henri were in the
corner. Henri embraced his mother,
then ran, hollering, to the meadow. Dozens of children followed him. Their game began, as if nothing was wrong with the world.
Despite cold weather, the children quickly became warm as they played. They squealed and dived and collided and helped each
other up. They forgot to keep score. German
soldiers walked up to the river to watch. French soldiers lined the meadow. Leaving
the game, Henri walked to the river and
beckoned across, to the Germans. A group of them climbed into boats, which had appeared as if out of nowhere. They started
across the river. Henri signaled to some
French soldiers, and they walked into the meadow as the Germans left the boats and walked onto French soil. The children's
game ended. In the meadow, the soldiers' game began: France vs. Germany. They
played for two hours. Again, nobody kept track of the goals. After the soldiers quit, they embraced and conversed with smiles
and pantomime and words the other "side" couldn't understand. The
Germans rowed back across the river. Long after Henri carried the ball home, and even as he kept bringing it into the meadow daily, neither the French
nor the German soldiers could shake the sensation. On the German side of the river, it spread with blitzkrieg swiftness through
the ranks, across Germany, Austria and occupied Czechoslovakia and Poland. Soon, Hitler's troops no longer wanted to conquer
in the name of the Fuhrer. A military cabal overthrew Hitler, and the Germans withdrew to within their borders. The forces
of Japan left China. The war ended, as did the persecution and murder of Jewish citizens throughout Europe. European nations
either retained, or regained, independence. The dreams for peace of other little boys and girls were fulfilled from
that time forth, from Europe, to the Middle East, to Southeast Asia; from nations to city streets to high schools to homes.
"Peace on Earth" became a perpetual reality, not a seasonal dream.
Postscript:
As the year 2024 loomed, Henri's ball still was as good as new.
May
we truly have peace on earth. |
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