[NOTE: The Utah Symphony’s mascot is a seagull called Seymour. Recently, they had a story-writing contest in which children were asked to write about how Seymour became the Symphony mascot. Here is Rio’s winning entry.]

     Seymour was mad about his life. He couldn’t talk about that, because he was crying so much. He didn’t have any music. There was no music in his house. He felt sad about that.
     Seymour was walking outside by Abravanel Hall. He heard some music while he was walking. It was pretty. He thought it was so beautiful. He walked in because he liked music. He sat down and the music started. While he was in Abravanel Hall, the instruments played the music again. It was the same music he heard while he was walking. It was nice.
     Seymour decided to live at Abravanel Hall. He had music in his life. He was happy about that. He will live there forever.

      Ah, Christmas…the Season of Giving? Sure. The Season of Obligation? Well, yeah, that too. It seems sometimes that people are so caught up in the necessity of buying gifts in order to cross one more name off of their lists that the quality of the gifts themselves suffers. Often people will panic at the last minute and get things for those "hard-to-buy" folks which end up not getting appreciated. I’m sure that everyone knows what it is like to get a gift that they just don’t want or need. Some people keep these gifts—again, out of obligation ("I have to keep this—it is from Cousin Babs!")—and then are bogged down with clothes they’ll never wear, appliances they’ll never use, and knick-knacks that will only gather dust. Others who prefer a more simple and pared-down life get rid of the offending things at the nearest opportunity. There are several ways to do this—take back to the store in exchange for money or merchandise, put in the yard sale box, give to charity. I am one of those simple people, and have done all of these. But one year I discovered another way to rid myself of unwanted gifts, and this is the best way of all.
     One Christmas half a decade ago, I received a truly heinous article of clothing which was the wrong color, wrong size, wrong style, and just plain ugly. Days later I was headed to the nearest church with the dreadful thing, when I stopped, for two reasons. One, I didn’t like the idea of anyone wearing something this loathsome. Two, I simply didn’t want the manufacturer to get paid for it! No use in encouraging people to keep making things like this. No sir! So I turned right back around and marched to a department store, determined to get my money for it.
     As I stood in the return line which was very long (for others had had the same idea), I shivered in excitement over what I might do with the money. What would I buy? Few feelings are greater than the anticipation of getting money! Then it occurred to me that I didn’t necessarily have to keep the cash. I know it sounds insane, but I’d been about to give the gift to charity anyway, after all; it wouldn’t be like I was losing anything. I pondered where I might send the money. Salvation Army? American Cancer Society? Greenpeace? Amid these lofty ideals, I noticed other people standing in line—people in my own community, my peers, so to speak. And that’s when I came upon my Great Idea: I would take the money and give it to the first person I saw upon leaving the store!
     The more I thought of it, the better mood I got in. I got pushed around in line, and someone even cut ahead of me, but every time I thought about what I was going to do, I got happy again.
     The moment came. I took my money and a deep breath, and left the store. The first person I saw was a lady, bundled up against the Illinois cold. I dove right in.
     "Excuse me, ma’am," I said, "I decided this year that I would return my Christmas presents and give the money to the first person I saw upon leaving the store. Well, ma’am, you are the first person I saw, and I’d be really happy if you’d take this." Of course she looked at me strangely, and I had to repeat my plan a bit, but, after some persuasion, she look the money, laughing. She and I parted, each happy for our own reasons.
     Wow. Giving money to a total stranger for absolutely no reason is one of the most mind-blowing trips you can imagine! What a high! What’s even better is the kick I get out of imagining the rest of her day: she goes home, tells the husband and kids what happened, and that makes THEM happy too. They tell their friends about it, and the cycle continues. With one small gesture, I provided entertainment to probably everyone this woman and her family came in contact with for weeks thereafter. I bet she still thinks of me every Christmas. I bet this year she will tell the story at her Christmas gathering, and I bet everyone will feel warm and happy too. Talk about a gift that keeps on giving!
     Someday, maybe people will pay less attention to crossing names off of their lists, and will instead engage in the ordinary, everyday gestures which REALLY mean something to others. Until then, however, bring on the gifts—the mall closes at nine!