>John Blanchard stood up from the
>bench, straightened his Army uniform, and studied the crowd of
>>> >people making their way through Grand Central
>>> >>> > Station.  He looked
>>> >for the girl whose heart he knew, but whose face
>>> >>> > he
>>> >>> > didn't, the
>>> >girl with the rose. His interest in her had begun
>>> >>> thirteen
>>> >>> > months
>>> >before in a Florida library.  Taking a book off the shelf he
>>> >>> > found
>>> >himself intrigued, not with the words of the book, but with
>>> >>> the
>>> >>> >
>>> >notes penciled in the margin. The soft handwriting reflected a
>>> >>> >
>>> >thoughtful soul and insightful mind.
>>> >>> >
>>> >>> > In the front of the book,
>>> >he discovered the previous owner's name,
>>> >>> > Miss
>>> >>> > Hollis Maynell.
>>> >With time and effort he located her address.  She
>>> >>> > lived
>>> >>> > in New
>>> >York City.  He wrote her a letter introducing himself and
>>> >>> > inviting her
>>> >to correspond.  The next day he was shipped overseas
>>> >>> for
>>> >>> > service
>>> >in
>>> >>> > World War II.
>>> >>> >
>>> >>> > During the next year and one-month the two
>>> >grew to know each other
>>> >>> > through the mail.  Each letter was a seed
>>> >falling on a fertile
>>> >>> heart.
>>> >>> > A
>>> >>> > Romance was budding. Blanchard
>>> >requested a photograph, but she
>>> >>> > refused.
>>> >>> > She felt that if he
>>> >really cared, it wouldn't matter what she looked
>>> >>> > like.
>>> >>> >
>>> >>> > When
>>> >the day finally came for him to return from Europe, they
>>> >>> > scheduled
>>> >>>
>>> >> their first meeting - 7:00 PM at the Grand Central Station in New
>>> >>> >
>>> >York.
>>> >>> >
>>> >>> > "You'll recognize me," she wrote, "by the red rose I'll be
>>> >wearing
>>> >>> on
>>> >>> > my
>>> >>> > lapel."  So at 7:00 he was in the station
>>> >looking for a girl whose
>>> >>> > heart
>>> >>> > he loved, but whose face he'd
>>> >never seen.
>>> >>> >
>>> >>> > I'll let Mr. Blanchard tell you what happened: A
>>> >young woman was
>>> >>> > coming
>>> >>> > toward me, her figure  long and slim.  Her
>>> >blonde hair lay back in
>>> >>> > curls
>>> >>> > from her delicate ears; her eyes
>>> >were blue as
>>> >>> > flowers.  Her lips and chin had a gentle firmness, and in
>>> >her pale
>>> >>> > green
>>> >>> > suit she was like springtime come alive.  I
>>> >started toward her,
>>> >>> > entirely
>>> >>> > forgetting to notice that she was
>>> >not wearing a rose.  As I moved, a
>>> >>> > small, provocative smile curved her
>>> >lips.  "Going my way, sailor?"
>>> >>> she
>>> >>> > murmured. Almost uncontrollably
>>> >I made one step closer to her, and
>>> >>> > then
>>> >>> > I saw Hollis Maynell.
>>> >She was standing almost directly behind the
>>> >>> > girl.
>>> >>> > A woman well
>>> >past 40, she had graying hair tucked under a worn hat.
>>> >>> > She
>>> >>> > was
>>> >more than plump, her thick-ankled feet thrust into low-heeled
>>> >>> >
>>> >shoes.
>>> >>> > The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away.  I felt
>>> >as
>>> >>> though
>>> >>> > I
>>> >>> > was split in two, so keen was my desire to follow
>>> >her, and yet so
>>> >>> deep
>>> >>> > was my longing for the woman whose spirit had
>>> >truly companioned me
>>> >>> and
>>> >>> > upheld my own.
>>> >>> >
>>> >>> >  And there she
>>> >stood.  Her pale, plump face was gentle and sensible,
>>> >>> > her
>>> >>> > gray
>>> >eyes had a warm and kindly twinkle.  I did not hesitate.  My
>>> >>> > fingers
>>> >gripped the small worn blue leather copy of the book that
>>> >>> was
>>> >>> > to
>>> >>>
>>> >> identify me to her.  This would not be love, but it would be
>>> >>>
>>> >something
>>> >>> > precious, something perhaps even better than love, a
>>> >friendship for
>>> >>> > which I had been and
>>> >>> > must ever be grateful.
>>> >>> >
>>> >
>>> >>> > I squared my shoulders and saluted and held out the book to the
>>> >>>
>>> >woman,
>>> >>> > even though while I spoke I felt choked by the bitterness of
>>> >my
>>> >>> > disappointment.  "I'm Lieutenant John Blanchard, and you must be
>>> >>>
>>> >Miss
>>> >>> > Maynell.  I am so glad you could meet me; may I take you to
>>> >dinner?"
>>> >>> >
>>> >>> > The woman's face broadened into a tolerant smile.  "I
>>> >don't know
>>> >>> what
>>> >>> > this is about, son," she answered, "but the young
>>> >lady in the green
>>> >>> > suit
>>> >>> > who just went by, she begged me to wear
>>> >this rose on my coat.  And
>>> >>> she
>>> >>> > said if you were to ask me out to
>>> >dinner, I should go and tell you
>>> >>> > that
>>> >>> > she is waiting for you in
>>> >the big restaurant across the street. She
>>> >>> > said
>>> >>> > it was some kind
>>> >of test!"  It's not difficult to understand and
>>> >>> > admire
>>> >>> > Miss
>>> >Maynell's wisdom. The true nature of a heart is seen in its
>>> >>> > response
>>> >to the unattractive.   "Tell me whom you love," Houssaye
>>> >>> > wrote,
>>> >>> >
>>> >"And I will tell you who you are."
>>> >>> >
>>> >>> > *************** Send this to
>>> >3 people....  You will have good luck
>>> >>> for
>>> >>> > an entire day.
>>> >>> >
>>> >Send this to 8 people....  You will have good
>>> >>> > luck for all of next
>>> >week.
>>> >>> >     Send this 11 or more people.... You will
>>> >>> > know your true
>>> >love and be happy for a long, long time.
>>> >>> >     Send this to 20 or more
>>> >people....  You
>>> >>> > and your true love are going to be happily married
>>> >forever after.
>>> >>> >     Send this to nobody....  You will have
>>> >>> > bad
>>> >luck for at least 5 years.
>>> >
>>>
>>
>>
>With Love,
>Mr13
>"Technicolor children, in Picadilly Square
>Whisper words, erotica, when U kiss me there."
>
>