The Acadian Rose Wishes You
        A Loving Valentine's Day
        When You See With Your Heart
        You Don't Miss A Thing
            The Girl With The Rose
                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.....
        Page Copyright
        Rose C. Webb
        1998
        All Rights Reserved
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