The Gift of the Magi

SD1: The lights come up on a living room in a tiny apartment. The furnishings are simple and worn: a threadbare rug, a scuffed coffee table, a couch with cushions deflated by time.

SD2: A small, scraggly Christmas tree sits on a table in one corner, sparsely decorated with a few colorful glass ornaments and strings of popcorn.

SD3: Della kneels beside the coffee table. Her brow is furrowed as she dumps coins out of a tin can and counts them.

Della: One eighty-five, one eighty-six . . . one eighty-seven.

SD1: She flops onto the couch and bursts into tears.

SD2: Her sobs are soon interrupted by knocking. Swiping at her tears, she answers the door.

Charlie and Hattie (singing ): Jingle bells! Jingle bells! Jingle all the way! Oh, what fun it is to—

SD3: They stop, noticing Della’s expression.

Charlie: My dear cousin, what is wrong?

Della: Oh, Charlie!

SD1: Della walks back to the couch and slumps into the cushions.

Hattie: Please—tell us what happened. Is Jim all right?

Della (sniffling ): Oh, yes, Jim is fine. It’s just that . . .

SD2: Della gestures to the coins on the table.

Della: It’s two days before Christmas, and one dollar and eighty-seven cents is all I’ve got for Jim’s present.

Hattie: Oh, now Della, I’m sure he won’t mind.

Charlie: Jim loves you so much. He won’t care about a present.

Della: I saved everything I could. I really did. No doubt the butcher and the grocer dread seeing me coming, the way I haggle over every penny. But we’ve simply nothing to spare.

Charlie: I’m sure better times are ahead.

Hattie: Of course they are. Now dry your tears, brush your beautiful hair, and let’s—

Della (sitting up): That’s it! My hair!

Hattie: What?

Della: I can sell my hair!

Hattie: But Della, your hair is your most prized possession. It’s so lovely!

Della: Then let’s hope I can get a lovely price for it, so I can buy Jim the kind of present he deserves.

Charlie: I suppose it would grow back eventually. Now, Cousin, would you like to join us for a walk in the snow?

Della: Yes, I think fresh air is just what I need.

SD3: The lights fade.

SD1: Jim and Fred are hunched over their desks in a cramped office.

SD2: With a sigh, Fred puts down his pencil.

Fred: The closer it gets to Christmas, the harder it is to work.

Jim: I know what you mean.

Fred: Tomorrow is going to be simply impossible!

Jim: Remember last year? We did not have to work on December 24th.

Fred: Oh yes, I remember that well. I also remember that last year we were making $30 a week, not $20.

Jim: You don’t need to remind me of that. I mean, I know our employers are struggling just to stay afloat, and I hate to complain—

Fred: I’m happy to complain. By the time I’ve paid my rent and bought a few things to eat, there’s nothing left.

Jim: It is hard, especially this time of year.

Fred: What does Della say?

Jim: Oh, Della never complains. She insists that she has everything she needs. And yet . . .

SD3: Jim looks down.

Fred: What is it, Jim?

Jim: Last Saturday we went for a walk—you know, to see the lights on Fifth Avenue. At one point we found ourselves standing outside a shop, gazing at the items in the window.

Fred: Yes?

Jim: For the longest time, we just stood there, staring at all the things we could never possibly afford. Neither of us said a word.

Fred: And then what?

Jim: And then Della turned and gave me a hug, and we walked away. Ah, Fred, I just wish I could buy Della the kind of Christmas present she deserves.

Fred: Della will understand.

Jim: I know. And it’s not like she’s expecting anything. It’s just that . . .

SD1: Jim shrugs.

Fred: Della knows how you feel about her. That’s what matters.

Jim: Yes. Yes, of course. Now, shall we finish up and get out of here? 

SD2: Della and Jim sit at the kitchen table finishing their breakfast.

Jim: I’m sorry I have to work today. But I’ll be home in time for us to enjoy a nice Christmas Eve dinner.

SD3: Jim reaches across the table to take Della’s hand. He smiles. Then he pulls a gold watch from his pocket.

Jim: Speaking of time . . .

SD1: He looks at the watch. Then he carefully polishes it with his napkin before putting it back in his pocket.

Jim: . . . I must be off.

SD2: They say their goodbyes. Jim pulls on a worn overcoat and leaves.

SD3: Della goes to the mirror. She runs a hand over her hair and sighs.

SD1: Then she squares her shoulders, puts on an old brown hat and coat, and marches out of the apartment.

SD2: Bells jingle above the door as Della enters Madame Sofronie’s Hair Goods of All Kinds.

SD3: Wigs on mannequin heads line the shelves. Brushes, barrettes, and bottles of hair tonic fill a glass case along one side of the shop.

SD1: Two shoppers pause as they walk by Della.

Woman 1: What beautiful hair you have!

Woman 2: Surely you are not here for a wig?

Della: Um . . . no.

Woman 1: There are some lovely hair combs in the case.

Woman 2: They would look stunning in your hair!

Della: Oh.

Woman 1: Well, Merry Christmas!

Della: Thank you. Merry Christmas to you both.

SD2: The bells jingle as the women leave. Madame Sofronie approaches Della.

Madame Sofronie: How may I help you?

Della: Will you buy my hair?

Madame: Well, I do buy hair. Let’s see . . .

SD3: Madame Sofronie—with little tenderness—gathers Della’s hair into her fist and studies it.

Madame: Hmm. Yes. Quite good. I will give you 20 dollars for it.

Della: Twenty dollars? All right. Quick, cut it off before I change my mind.

SD1: Della winces as Madame Sofronie takes a giant pair of scissors and unceremoniously chops off Della’s hair.

Madame: Here you are—20 dollars. Thank you, madam.

SD2: Della takes the money. A smile spreads across her face.

Della: And thank you, Madame Sofronie! Thank you very much!

SD3: Della hurries out.

SD1: Della is looking around a shop that sells hats, umbrellas, ties, and other items for men.

Shopkeeper: May I help you find something, madam?

Della: I hope so. I’ve been to shop after shop looking for a Christmas present for my husband. Nothing seems quite right.

Shopkeeper: I see.

Man: Excuse me, but I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. Allow me to suggest a pair of these gloves here for your husband. I bought a pair at this shop last month, and I couldn’t be happier. They keep my hands toasty even on the coldest days.

Shopkeeper: So glad to hear it, sir. Thank you for saying so.

Man: Not at all.

Della: Hmm. Jim does need gloves. Every day he goes off to work with nothing to warm his hands. And he needs a new coat. His is so old and threadbare it scarcely keeps out the chill. But neither seems precious enough for my Jim. I mean no offense—

Man: None taken.

Shopkeeper: No, none.

Della: It’s just the gift must be something fine and rare.

Shopkeeper: I quite understand. Would a pocket watch be the thing, perhaps? We have some very fine pocket watches that would surely befit a man like . . . Jim, was his name?

Della: Yes, Jim. But Jim already has a pocket watch. It was his father’s and his grandfather’s before that. It’s a beautiful watch—Jim’s most prized possession, in fact.

Shopkeeper: Ah. I should have guessed that Jim already has a fine watch. But perhaps Jim could use a new chain for his beloved watch?

Della: Actually, yes—if you have the right one, of course. He keeps his watch on a tattered old leather strap. He’s rather ashamed of it, if truth be told.

Shopkeeper: Oh, well—that won’t do at all!

SD2: Della follows the shopkeeper to a display of watch chains. Her eyes widen.

Della (pointing  ): That one, there! May I see that one, please?

Shopkeeper: You have excellent taste, madam. This chain is 100 percent pure platinum. It is, as you can see, simple in its design—the very height of elegance.

Della: This is perfect. Absolutely perfect. Oh, but—

SD3: Concern dims the brightness in Della’s eyes.

Della: What is the price, please?

Shopkeeper: Twenty-one dollars.

Della: I’ll take it!

Shopkeeper: Jim is going to be very happy.

SD1: Della sits in a chair in her living room.

SD2: Hattie stands behind her, using a curling iron to create dozens of tiny curls in Della’s short hair.

Hattie: I can’t believe you really sold it. Your hair was your pride and joy.

Della: Yes, it was. But nothing is more important to me than Jim. It doesn’t look too bad, does it?

Hattie: No, not at all. I think you look rather charming. See for yourself—I’m all done.

SD3: Della goes to the mirror and studies her reflection.

Della: Hopefully Jim won’t be too shocked. But what could I have bought with a dollar and eighty-seven cents?

Hattie: I’m sure he’ll be surprised, but he’ll recover. Now I must be going. Charlie is waiting for me. Have a wonderful Christmas, Della. Give Jim my love.

Della: Thank you, Hattie. Merry Christmas to you and Charlie.

SD1: The women hug goodbye. Hattie puts on her coat and leaves.

SD2: Della puts away the curling iron and begins setting the table for dinner.

SD3: She is crouched down, retrieving candlesticks from a low cabinet drawer behind the couch, when the apartment door opens and Jim walks in. He is rubbing his cold, gloveless hands together to warm them.

Della (calling from behind the couch): Hello, darling!

Jim: Hello, my d—

SD1: Jim stops abruptly as Della stands. He stares at her short hair, a peculiar expression on his face.

Della: Oh, Jim, don’t look at me that way! I had my hair cut off and sold because I couldn’t have lived through Christmas without giving you a present.

Jim: You . . . cut off your hair?

Della: Yes—and bought you such a wonderful gift! Just wait until you see it!

Jim: So your hair is . . . gone?

SD2: Jim looks slowly around the room.

Della: Yes, gone. There’s no point in looking for it! Now, come on. It’s Christmas Eve. Let’s forget my hair and be happy.

SD3: With a small, quick shake of his head, Jim comes out of his apparent trance. He gives Della a hug, then draws out a small wrapped package from his worn coat and hands it to her.

Jim: Don’t misunderstand—there is nothing you could do to your hair that would make me love you any less. But if you’ll open that package, you may understand why your hairstyle had me going for a moment.

SD1: Della opens the package.

Della: Oh no! Oh NO!

SD2: Della lifts two tortoiseshell combs with glittering jeweled rims from a small box.

Jim: I thought they were the perfect gift for you.

Della: They’re beautiful! Don’t worry, my hair grows so fast. I’ll be able to use them in no time.

SD3: She sets the combs on the table.

Della: Oh! I haven’t given you your gift yet!

SD1: Della retrieves Jim’s gift from under the small Christmas tree.

SD2: Jim unwraps the box. He lifts the lid and stares inside.

Della: It’s a beauty, isn’t it? I hunted all over town to find it. Give me your watch—I want to see how the chain looks on it.

SD3: Ignoring Della’s request, Jim goes to the couch and sits down. He grins.

Jim: Della, let’s put our gifts away for a while. They’re too nice to use just now.

Della: But—

Jim: Della, the fact is, I sold my watch to buy your combs.

Della: You—?

Jim: That’s right.

SD1: Della sits down next to Jim. A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth.

Jim: Now then, shall we get started on our Christmas Eve supper?

Picture this: You’re watching your little brother tear open his birthday present with ferocious glee. Suddenly, you start to worry. You spent a whole month’s allowance on his present—a Captain America action figure. What if he hates it? What if he wanted something else? But—phew!—when he pulls out the toy, his eyes light up and he shrieks with joy.

Suddenly, a feeling of incandescent happiness washes over you.

Researchers call this the “warm glow.” It’s the feeling you get when you do something nice for someone else. The term “warm glow” comes from brain scans taken of people doing something generous; their brains quite literally light up.

Giving someone a gift does all sorts of remarkable things for you. It reinforces your feelings of love for that person and triggers feelings of happiness in you. It can also improve your health and sense of well-being. That’s because when you give a gift, powerful neurochemicals are released in your brain. These chemicals play a key role in learning, memory, sleep, and healing.

According to experts, you don’t have to give something costly or practical to reap the rewards of gift giving. Maybe you donate a few dollars to an animal shelter in your friend’s name because you know she is passionate about animals. Maybe you write a poem for your grandpa or you give your mom a Seahawks hat because the two of you love watching Seahawks games together.

Giving doesn’t even have to involve a physical present. Any act of generosity can trigger the release of brain chemicals—holding the door for someone, volunteering to walk your neighbor’s dog, even simply complimenting a classmate on her awesome presentation.

As gift givers, we often agonize over what will make a good present, racking our brains to come up with the perfect thing. But that agonizing usually isn’t necessary. Most gift receivers aren’t all that fussy about what they receive—what’s important to them isn’t so much the gift itself but the thought behind that gift.

“On the recipient side, all they care about is that somebody put any thought into the decision,” says Jeff Galak, who studies the psychology of gift giving. In other words, if your gift shows even a small amount of consideration, the receiver will feel special.

So don’t stress about finding the perfect present. No matter what you choose, you’re doing something wonderful for someone else.

That person will be grateful—and so will  your brain.