THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Friday, December 29, 1995 TAG: 9512280124
SECTION: VIRGINIA BEACH BEACON PAGE: 07 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Opinion
SOURCE: BY STEPHEN A. MORTON
LENGTH: Medium: 62 lines
I was rummaging through the attic just the other night, looking for decorations to decorate the Christmas tree that night.
Hidden in a corner, covered up and out of sight, I found an old wooden trunk forgotten until that night.
I opened up the lid and began to peer inside and realized there were tears in the corners of my eyes.
The trunk was full of memories that mean everything to me, precious little memories of a little girl, so very dear to me.
The pink ballet slippers she got when she was only 4.
The little violin she had cherished and did so adore.
The figure skates we bought her when she was only 5 - she had wanted to skate like Peggy Fleming, whom she cherished and idolized.
The Raggedy Ann doll she would cuddle late at night.
The letter to Santa Claus she wrote on that dark and fateful night.
I picked up the letter, tears flooding my very soul, and read the words she wrote, when she was just 7 years old.
Dear Santa,
I just wanted you to know, my name is Amber Marie and I'm 7 years old.
I have two brothers and three sisters but this you already know and I've tried to be good this year, as good as precious gold.
By now I guess you wonder what it is I ask of you and what kind of toy, I really want from you.
I don't want any toys, I have plenty already you see, my mommy and daddy have taken very good care of me.
The gift I want for Christmas has three parts you see, please stop the war in Vietnam and bring my daddy home safely to me.
My mommy is lonely and she cries late at night and she says, she wishes my daddy didn't have to go off to fight.
My brothers and sisters, they miss my daddy, too, and now my brother Tommy is afraid to go to school.
The third part Santa, the toys you'd bring to me, please give them to a little girl in Vietnam, who is lonely and sad like me.
I thank you Santa and I'll be good, you'll see and I wish you a Merry Christmas.
Little Amber Marie
I folded up the letter and returned it to the trunk and thought of the man who had killed her, that man who had been drunk.
My wife later told me, Amber was coming in from play, when this man lost control of his car and Amber happened to be in the way.
I often sit and ponder why Americans must fight someone else's war.
Whether it be in Vietnam or Bosnia, its always someone else's war.
We have a war at home here against drunk drivers, truly this you must see.
Why don't you stop this war, Mr. President, so we won't lose another Amber Marie. MEMO: Stephen A. Morton is a free-lance writer who lives in Virginia Beach. by CNB