Talking with a young man recently, I learned that today’s mobile society has diminished family connections to time and place. Apparently, this is nothing new.

Read the 1918 Christmas report from the Western Newspaper Union, the forerunner of today’s news wires:

It was a week before Christmas, but Ted I. Newton, office boy for Willis & Co., had been in holiday humor since the first of the month and was caught by the full Influence of Yuletide. His eyes sparkled as he lifted various packages from a box that had just arrived by express.

Amid his chuckling and gloating smiles there came a check. “What you got there, Ted?” sounded a sudden voice, and Ted turned to be confronted by his “boss." “If you please, sir,” he stammered, “It’s my regular Christmas box from the folks home on the farm.” “Let’s see what you’ve got, Ted,” suggested John Willis, and he fished out a cake of maple sugar, bit off a fragment and smacked his lips. “Genuine stuff, eh?” he laughed jovially.

“You’re a lucky lad. Ted,” spoke Mr. Willis, his voice a trifle husky. Then he went into his private office and for 10 minutes sat idly in his swivel chair, a dreamy, far away expression upon his face. “I can taste that maple sugar yet!" he sighed finally. “Let me see, It’s two years since I’ve visited the old hometown. I’m ashamed of it, for we’ve run down to Nellie’s folks only twice since we were married. Maybe she’s longing for a sight of the con try, too. Hello!” He had picked up his mail and began to rifle the slitted envelopes.

The first lines of the letter he opened road: “My dear daughter Nellie: We are so hopeful that yon may give us a Christmas visit this year, and you and Mr. Willis would be so welcome!

“Why, this won’t do!” ejaculated John Willis, replacing the letter that had been carelessly opened by the office mall clerk. “Dear old people—and Nellie!” His heart suddenly smote him. Nellie never murmured at the exactions of business. Faithfully she accompanied him to social functions all the time. A conception of their hollow superficiality had ended in a dream of the dear old life, where true hearts and quiet, humble pleasures seemed to beckon longingly.

“I’m going to take a run down to the country to look after my old home,” John Willis told Nellie that evening. “The tenant has left and I want to see what can be done with it" He returned two days later. “Saw your folks, dear,” he said, and Nellie’s famished soul greeted the tender word like a cooling draught to a thirsting spirit. “Look here, Tuesday Is Christmas eve. Those snowclad hills at home have made me hungry for a sleigh ride. Be ready to take a regular old-fashioned frolic.” And there awoke In Nellie the most extravagant soul of hope. “Bundle up good,” directed her husband the next evening, as a double team attached to a roomy cutter arrived In front of the house.

“Now, then, snuggle under those robes and let us see if I have forgotten how to drive. Thirty miles—do you think you can stand it?” “Oh, John!” she almost gasped, "That would be our home town. You don’t mean —”

“That I am going to take you to your folks? Yes, dear, and stay there with you over the holidays. I say,” bracing and thrilling as they started down a clear smooth road full speed, "this is like the old times, when I used to steal a kiss from you, and— I’ll take one now!”

She was crying for Joy. Her trembling hand stole to his arm and lightly rested there. Her heart was singing amid a newly awakened happiness. “The river, hill and old bridge!” shouted John an hour later, alive with enthusiasm.

“Bonfire on the skating patch and—whoa! Nellie, this is my Christmas present to you.” He had halted in front of the old Willis homestead, pretentious in its quiet beauty. “I’ve decided to give up the crowded city. Well, what is it?" She could not tell him at that supreme moment. The merry sleigh bells rang out a gay song of renewed youth and contentment in a dash for Nellie’s old home. She ran up the steps to greet loving outstretched arms and fond ties of heartsome welcome.

“Home at last!” cried John Willis, bursting Into the brightly decorated parlor radiant with evergreen and holly. “Why! You look like a girl again, Nellie! Merry Christmas!” And he kissed her under the mistletoe.