百貨公司的週年慶戰略

SoSo 百貨某處，行銷菜鳥正在向行銷大頭報告。

★....................★ .....................★

菜鳥：老大，本公司一年一度最盛大的週年慶，特惠DM 我已經擬好了。
大頭：他媽的！你搞這個滿千送百做什麼？！滿一千我們就送他一百，那不是特惠價再打9 折，我們還撈什麼？
菜鳥：是，老大，我馬上改成滿 五千送五百。
大頭：這就對啦，大部分客人都買不到五千塊，這樣五百塊就省下來啦。要是有人為了區區五百塊硬湊到五千塊，讓我們營業額飆高四千五，那就更好啦。營業額飆越高，我們的年終也飆越高的嘛！
唉呀他媽的，你這五百送的是現金呀！你這菜鳥，改禮券！改禮券！
菜鳥：老大，禮券跟現金還不都一樣。
大頭：說你是菜鳥就是菜鳥！禮券上面用最小號的字註明一下，買化妝品買內衣不能使用，只可以買衣服！ 現在衣服還沒下折扣是不是？！他們拿禮券買貴聳聳的衣服我們還可以再撈一筆。別忘了再用小小小小的字給我註明，禮券兩週內沒用完自動失效。 要是下個月女裝打折出清，讓我看見客人拿禮券買，你就給我回家吃飼料！

★....................★.................... ★

菜鳥：老大，DM 第2 版改好了。
大頭：限量！特惠組前面通通給我加註『限量』！
菜鳥：今年景氣差，東西根本賣不出去，廠商還有無限量，被拆穿不好吧？
大頭：無限量你個頭！沒有限量消費者會緊張嗎？會覺得物以稀為貴嗎？管他限量100個，還是限量 1 萬個，反正通通加『限量』！限量100 個，到時候賣1000個，狗仔隊會站在收銀台旁邊數嗎？人這麼多他怎麼數？你這隻菜鳥！
還有還有，這特惠組總共就一樣明星商品，能看嗎？給我加到十樣！
菜鳥：加到十樣明星商品，廠商成本太大，恐怕不願意啦。
大頭：誰叫你每樣都加明星商品，你不會叫廠商拿一些賣不出去的，再加幾個小試用品湊數嗎？ 1.5g 的小蜜粉也可以呀，DM 照片拍大一點，客人哪看得出來。特惠組就是要十樣！
還有，獨家！獨家！你特惠組前面不會加『獨家』呀？！
菜鳥：可是蝴蝶百貨也有一模一樣的特惠組呀。
大頭：你不會叫廠商把其中一樣換掉呀，然後全部十樣的順序更動一下，然後組合名稱再換一下，這樣不叫獨家叫什麼？！

★....................★ .....................★

菜鳥：老大，DM 第N 版改好了。
大頭：拆成兩波！拆成兩波！週年慶第一波有滿額贈，第二波有滿額禮！
菜鳥：老大，滿額贈跟滿額禮有什麼不一樣？
大頭：管他一不一樣，讓客人糊塗，讓客人緊張，讓客人以為優惠隨時要結束，讓客人感覺現在不買下禮拜就變貴，這樣就對了！ 不然你給我說，以前週年慶只有10天，後來變成兩個禮拜，現在變成兩個月，你想怎麼賣？！大週年裡頭再搞幾個小週年，週週相連，業績才會到天邊嘛！
菜鳥：老大，週年慶後天就開始了，再改下去恐怕來不及印給顧客了。
大頭：急你個頭！急著印給顧客幹嘛？給顧客充足的時間，拿去跟蝴蝶百貨比較做功課是嗎？給顧客po 到網路上，讓美麗花百貨參考是嗎？讓美麗花百貨拿著我們的特惠資料，要廠商給更多優惠是嗎？你這隻菜鳥！還不趕快去蒐集蝴蝶、美麗花跟山岳的DM 來參考，還站在這裡幹什麼？！
菜鳥就是菜鳥！難怪一年到頭辦促銷，一年到頭打折扣，東西還是賣不好。快被你這隻菜鳥氣死了！去！幫我叫馬殺雞來！馬殺雞，等等偶～～

離家不遠

作者：廖韻芳

透天三層洋房，座落在稻田旁，起風時，偶爾飄來豬屎堆肥異味。這是一個老舊翻新社區，八十三年夏推出，姊姊轉述建商說法：「前面要開一條八米路，直通鎮上心臟地帶；六輕在麥寮建廠，這裡必然大有發。」猛翻數倍後，房價是撐平、緩步下滑，我不太相信會有大好榮景。哥和姐決定比鄰各買一戶，爸爸說：「問問韻芳，或許她也想在西螺買厝，人親土親。」

擁有一小方土地，是在台北難以達成的夢想，親友中不乏按月租地、翻土、施肥、種作，扮演都市農夫。對我而言：鋤犁是扛不動的浪漫，並不奢想嘗試。深層的想望是：九年後退休，住在舊厝附近，手足間各有獨立空間，卻是走幾步路或騎上鐵馬，就可以找爸媽談天說地、泡茶賞蘭。那年，父親剛過七十，我相信他會像阿嬤一樣高壽九五，我還有福氣承歡膝前十五年。兒時不曾分離的歡聚，正是短短十五載。

爸爸曾經笑言：「算命先說我一生有財無庫，所以，當了二十幾年律師，仍是兩袖清風。」我坐在樹蔭清涼、繁花處處的大庭園裡，回想在這裡灌蟋蟀，卻灌出一條草蛇；空心菜摘了又長，如同變魔術一般神奇。也憶起七歲那年，調皮的我惹煩忙著汲水的阿嬤，她掄起竹掃把掃我一頓。夜裡，才想起是我的生日，煮出兩個蛋，一個歸我獨享，一個由哥姐分食。阿嬤摸摸我猶留笞痕的手臂：「死查某鬼仔！真是大人吃肉，囝仔吃打。」

艱困歲月裡，厝內經濟是捉襟見肘，厝外卻是天寬地闊，任我遨遊。濁水溪堤岸，是一家人最常去的優美勝地－採西瓜、堆沙堡，或是揀回泛綠溪石，當成曠世稀寶典藏。也有些活動，不能讓爸媽參與：到漫畫店租回「四郎真平」，藏在肚腹裡偷渡；花兩毛錢買枝仔冰，在圍牆外你一口、我一嘴舔個精光，夜裡吵架，捏得彼此腿上青一塊、紫一塊，天亮，媽喚姊姊打油，她瞪我一眼「走啦！」兩人一同出門，各走左右側溝沿，打了油，再各循原路返回。哥在初一離家，從此，我們就不曾再吵過嘴。

在電話是奢侈品、交通又不方便的時代，台中、西螺遠如天涯。最近，哥曾聊起當時心境：「新生訓練只有半天，結束後，我走兩公里到車站，看著公路局的車子，心想：搭上車就可以回家；又想：明天還要上課，回去又得馬上出門，繞來繞去，不知該怎麼辦？最後，又走兩公里回學校。

想像一個理和尚頭的小男孩，在車站來回徘徊，我不禁心酸。幸運的我，晚三年才割斷臍帶。高一負笈他鄉，此後，台中、台北、華盛頓、紐約州，家，越來越遠。

我如候鳥，逐月、逐季、逐年歸返。每一回，爸媽都問相同話語：「什麼時候擱轉來？」轉來，成了最殷切的叮嚀。擠在座椅縫隙中，雙腳懸空，直到全身麻木，為的是趕上中秋夜，看阿嬤一面殺柚子，一面唸著：「月娘光光，目睛金金。」風雪中的紐約州，華航在「世界日報」刊登巨幅廣告：「別人吃火雞，我們回家吃湯圓。」艷紅圓仔閃著溫潤光澤，我彷彿回到昏黃燈光下，有時比賽誰搓得最圓，有時刻意搓得大小不一，再參差排列，湯頭清時，大家都不愛吃，總是得再三回鍋，煮至黏稠帶點焦香，才是人間美味。我癡望藍天：搭上飛機，就可以回家。

出嫁十幾年，僅有一次回家過年，車抵家門，爸早就站在陽台上張望，轉身對屋內大聲呼喊：「韻芳回來囉！」洋溢而出的喜悅，暖著我的心頭。只是，對女人而言，家永遠是兩處模糊地帶，回家，永遠是難有著落的夢想。

夜半驚醒，湧上的常是來不及奔喪的恐懼。阿嬤高齡九十三，臨前，她已退化至認不得我；媽媽因糖尿病失明，每天打胰島素，吞二十幾顆藥，我害怕夜裡的電話，我深知：至親，隨時可能離去。每週打一通電話，三天寫一封信，儘揀神奇事物談笑；接獲爸的來信，卻忍不住淚如泉湧，終至放聲痛哭。

阿嬤過世，是在我回國以後，中午接獲電話，爸爸的口氣十分平靜：「阿嬤走了，我餵她喝過牛奶，扶她躺下，再回頭，她已經走了。」車子奔馳在高速公路，我的心不慌不亂，反倒有些暖意。想像中拖著女兒、萬里奔喪的畫面不曾出現，我恍然明白：台北離家不遠。離家不遠，就是幸福。

爸爸的離去，卻是讓我措手不及。新居由一片菜圃轉成樓房錯落，不過一年半。姊姊長住，我維持每個月回去一趟。回家的日子，多半是做幾樣自認神奇的菜，堆到爸媽碗裡；買幾件體面的衣服，讓他們掛在衣櫥。爸爸問我：「你猜猜看，我晚年的願望是什麼？」我屢猜不中，答案是：「讓自己圍棋段數更高。」我疏忽了，每天都有老友來陪爸爸下棋：我的小學老師、崙背老醫生、民眾服務站主任、還有十來歲的孩童，在這塊土地自在過活，就是爸爸最大的快樂。難怪我們想陪他出國觀光，爸一笑：「我在電視上都看過，不必長途跋涉。」多邀幾次，他乾脆表明：「離開家，我就睡不著。」爸爸出門的興致越來越低，甚至連請他到嘉義吃早餐，他都說：改天吧！出一趟門，就覺得累。」我聽不出警訊，仍傻傻想望：有一天，他會答應我一起到夏威夷曬太陽、喝咖啡。

直到爸爸騎腳踏車出門，頭暈得幾乎軟倒在門口，我們才發現：他的胃悶、腹痛不是慢性胃炎或潰瘍，癌細胞早已在他的大腸肆虐多年。姊姊輪白天，哥嫂輪夜晚，爸爸住進省立醫院四天，哥才通知我：「爸爸要開刀，惡性的成分很高，爸說：『台北遠』，你等週六再回來。」

台北遠嗎？考上大學時，爸爸託他的棋友開小貨車，花一天親自陪我註冊；出國時，他送到機場，我入登機門後，他指著飛機告訴姊：「我們來看看，能再看到韻芳嗎？」結婚當天，他清晨五點出門，陪我北上，喜宴後，又趕在深夜返家。台北一點兒也不遠。是塵俗瑣事讓遊子的心靈逐漸走遠，忘記去傾聽「不要牽掛我」背後的聲音。「不要牽掛我，我很快會健康回來。」住院第一晚，爸爸提著點滴瓶，電話裡向媽許下承諾，決定轉診到林口長庚，爸堅持要再回家住一夜。

晚餐，全家圍坐，每個月都有團圓相聚，今夜，格外珍惜。爸爸第一件事是為媽挾菜。「我好幾天沒有為妳做事了。」媽媽失明二十年，爸爸每天帶她散步、為她添飯、布菜、倒洗澡水，爸爸捨不得離家，最大原因就是媽媽的眼睛。離家前，爸爸戀戀環視自己一花一草耕耘的庭園，道出心願：「四個月後，我會完全康復，就可以再整理這片花園。」車上，爸爸說：「我這一生沒有遺憾，也沒有罣礙。如果問我：一生最大的成就是什麼？我要說：是和妳媽媽一起建立這個家。」我緊握爸爸的手，心想：這座堡壘該換我們來撐持。

手術順利，爸爸在一星期後出院。一個半月後，發現癌細胞蔓延至肝，爸爸重回長庚，這次離家，足足三十五天。三組人馬輪流照護，日間，陪爸爸看窗前鳥雀啁啾：夜裡，陪爸爸看窗外燈火點點，從小至大，這是首次須臾不離。共同話題不多，仔細想來，爸一向不是多話的人。他不曾天寒叫我們添衣、肚餓叫我們加食，也不曾對我們嘮叨他的期望。只是，在我為大學聯考失利而放聲痛哭時，他會拍拍我：傻孩子！妳一生的幸福，又不是只決定在這次考試。」我回家坐月子時，天天吃麻油雞腰仔，他會瞞著阿嬤，偷偷削一個水梨給我；我返鄉任教的四年，他疼惜我中午騎車往返辛苦，總是用摩托車接送我。我為他梳頭，笑著說：「我記得以前為你拔白髮，一根一毛錢。」姊姊接口：「聞一次腳丫，說好香，也有一毛錢。」爸爸摸摸他稀疏泛黃的髮梢，早年，他烏黑茂密的濃髮人人稱羨，他也試過幾種染髮劑，想留住意氣風發的青春。此刻，他卻神情黯然望著鏡中自己。「這些已不再重要。」

什麼才是重要的？夢囈之中，爸爸回到他獲頒孝行獎的會場，這是他心中認定最大的榮耀嗎？我埋首寫故鄉廟埕的劇本大綱，他眼中閃著光芒：「回家以後，我為妳找更多資料。」我想：爸爸要的很簡單：活著回家。和未知拔河，活著，卻十足艱難，爸爸由每日來回走動，誓言保持出院後的體力；撤退至走兩步就喘息不已：再至上廁所後，力拉才能起身。

我試著探詢他最後的心願：「爸，你說阿嬤八十歲就備好壽衣，如果萬一，穿律師服好不好？」爸笑一笑：「律師服？很好啊！我為媽祖奉獻十三年，如果媽祖允許我選擇，我不想去西方極樂世界，我覺得那裡比較寂寞，我想回到鄉里，做個小小土地公，還是可以照看妳們。」爸爸眼中霧氣深沈，在選擇回小鎮當律師時，他早已看淡物質名利；在為生命奮力掙扎時，他最不捨得還是家。高燒過後，他正式把心願託付給我。「我不要在醫院走，我要回家。」我許下承諾：「我知道。」賀伯颱風前夕，爸爸在醫師允諾下，意識清楚返家。風雨之中，他時時望著窗外：這處他用一生守護的家園。四天後，他在自己的床上過世，姿勢就像睡著一樣安詳。陷入昏迷前，他叮嚀我的最後一句話是：「下禮拜再回來。」

今年清明，我和哥姊一起上墳。在新厝整理香燭蔬果，備幾道爸爸生前愛吃的食物。女兒問我：「媽，我們為什麼要在西螺買房子？」我望向堆著雜物的客廳，尋覓當年想法：「我曾經有一個夢，想在退休以後，回來和阿公一起住。」

舊夢已遠颺，淚，瞬間湧上。我攬一攬女兒：「走吧！我們去看阿公。」墳頭的草郁郁青青，墓碑上的爸爸穿著律師服，淡淡笑著。我們憶起：百日後，各自夢見爸爸，他或是壯年，或是老年，都是笑容依舊，此後，爸爸就不曾再入我們夢中。

失去父親三年，生命，難免顛簸難行，但是，我們彼此用心扶持，很快走出風雨，重見陽光。墳前，我們輪流撐傘，媽媽交代：要撐起傘，爸爸才能安心享用。我望著爸盛年英挺的面容，低聲說：「爸，吃飯了。」白花花陽光下，不見爸爸身影。不過，我相信：爸爸一定離家不遠，因為，不管身在何處，我們一直都離家不遠。

廉恥

作者：顧炎武

五代史馮道傳論曰：「『禮、義、廉、恥，國之四維；四維不張，國乃滅亡。』善乎管生之能言也！禮、義，治人之大法；廉、恥，立人之大節。蓋不廉則無所不取，不恥則無所不為。人而如此，則禍敗亂亡，亦無所不至。況為大臣而無所不取，無所不為，則天下其有不亂，國家其有不亡者乎？」

然而四者之中，恥尤為要，故夫子之論士曰：「行己有恥。」孟子曰：「人不可以無恥。無恥之恥，無恥矣。」又曰：「恥之於人大矣！為機變之巧者，無所用恥焉。」所以然者，人之不廉而至於悖禮犯義，其原皆生於無恥也。故士大夫之無恥，是謂國恥。

吾觀三代以下，世衰道微，棄禮義，捐廉恥，非一朝一夕之故。然而松柏後凋於歲寒，雞鳴不已於風雨，彼眾昏之日，固未嘗無獨醒之人也。

頃讀顏氏家訓，有云：「齊朝一士夫，嘗謂吾曰：『我有一兒，年已十七，頗曉書疏。教其鮮卑語及彈琵琶，稍欲通解，以此伏事公卿，無不寵愛。』吾時俯而不答。異哉，此人之教子也！若由此業，自致卿相，亦不願汝曹為之！」嗟呼！之推不得已而仕於亂世，猶為此言，尚有小宛詩人之意；彼閹然媚於世者，能無愧哉！

賢者的禮物

by O. 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 the vegetable man and the butcher until one's cheeks burned 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 howl. So Della did it. Which 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 $8 per week. It did not exactly beggar description, 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 "Mr. James Dillingham Young."

The "Dillingham" had been flung to the breeze during a former period of prosperity when its possessor was being paid $30 per week. Now, when the income was shrunk to $20, though, they were thinking seriously of contracting to a modest and unassuming D. But whenever Mr. James Dillingham Young came home and reached his flat above he was called "Jim" and greatly hugged by Mrs. 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 she had only $1.87 with which to buy Jim a present. She had 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 $1.87 to buy a present for Jim. Her Jim. Many 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 pier-glass between the windows of the room. Perhaps you have seen a pier-glass in an $8 flat. A very thin and very agile person may, by observing his reflection in a rapid sequence 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 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, 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 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 down the stairs to the street.

Where she stopped the sign read: "Mne. Sofronie. Hair Goods of All Kinds." One flight up Della ran, and collected herself, panting. Madame, large, too white, chilly, hardly looked the "Sofronie."

"Will you buy my hair?" asked Della.

"I buy hair," said Madame. "Take yer hat off and let's have a sight at the looks of it."

Down rippled the brown cascade.

"Twenty dollars," said Madame, lifting the mass with a practised hand.

"Give it to me quick," said Della.

Oh, and the next two hours tripped by 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 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 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 87 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 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 reason. She got out her curling irons and lighted the gas and went to work 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 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?"

At 7 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 prayer about the simplest everyday things, and now she whispered: "Please God, make him think I am 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 quail. His eyes were fixed upon Della, 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," she cried, "don't look at me that way. I had my hair cut off and sold 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. You 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 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," said Della. "It's sold, I tell you--sold and gone, too. It's Christmas Eve, boy. Be good to me, for it went 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 chops on, Jim?"

Out of his trance Jim seemed quickly to wake. He enfolded his Della. For ten seconds let us regard with discreet scrutiny some inconsequential object in the other direction. Eight dollars a week or a million a year--what is 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 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 you had me going a while at first."

White fingers and 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 wails, necessitating the immediate employment of all the comforting powers of the lord of the flat.

For there lay The Combs--the set of combs, side and back, that Della had worshipped long in a Broadway window. Beautiful combs, pure tortoise shell, with jewelled 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 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 a smile and say: "My hair grows so fast, Jim!"

And them Della leaped up like a little singed cat and cried, "Oh, oh!"

Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held it out to him eagerly upon her open palm. The dull precious metal seemed to flash with a reflection of her bright and ardent spirit.

"Isn't it a dandy, Jim? I hunted all over town to find it. You'll have to look at the time a hundred times a day now. Give me your 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 'em a while. They're too nice to use just at present. I sold the watch to get the money to buy your combs. And now suppose you put the chops on."

The magi, 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 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. O all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi.

白線流完結篇 - 即使過了做夢的年代

10 年的光陰長還是短呢？

1996 年日本富士電視推出了 「白線流し」這部膾炙人口的影集，然而當初並未留意過這部影集，注意力都在其他日劇上頭。在老姊極力推薦下才勉強看了第一集，不看還好，一看就陷入了這個世界，不能自拔....

嗚嗚嗚，劇中所描寫的故事這不就是我的青春嗎......

園子和涉的煩惱也是我的煩惱，對未來的不確定，究竟自己存在的意義為何...

1996年 白線流し
1997年 白線流し～19の春
1999年 白線流し～二十歳の風
2001年 白線流し～旅立ちの詩
2003年 白線流し～二十五歳

每一次的特別篇我都收看，一部都沒錯過。

拍攝這部影集的時候，主角們還是高中生，隨著時間流逝，如今也已經26歲。在一篇訪談中，參與演出的演員們這樣說，他們彷彿用這部影集寫日記，記錄了這些年的成長。

當 初看完白線流し～二十五歳，看著園子帶著小狗來河堤散步，這個當年他們高中畢業時將彼此的手帕和領巾綁在一起放進河裡隨波漂流象徵彼此的友誼長存的地 方，然而過了7年，景色變了，人是否也變了呢？一幕一幕的回憶流過園子的腦海，過往的歲月再也回不來。看到這段，心中感概萬分。

當時這樣想，這應該是最後一部，從今以後，我們都踏上了屬於自己的旅途，雖然中途有挫折，但這就是我們的路...

可是剛收信，看到 Kotomi Encyclopedia 寄來的消息：

2005年的秋天將要播映完結篇： 白線流し～夢見る頃を過ぎても....

天啊，真是令人難以置信，看著標題「即使過了做夢的年代」，真好期待這部特別篇的播映....