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In a little house, in a big city, there lived a very old man. He had watched the city grow up around him, seen towering skyscrapers and miles of asphalt swallow the woods and fields, parks and gardens, of his youth. The people who lived in the skyscrapers knew nothing of the old man -- most didn't even know each other.

One winter night, the old man sat in his little house, thinking sadly ... More

In a little house, in a big city, there lived a very old man. He had watched the city grow up around him, seen towering skyscrapers and miles of asphalt swallow the woods and fields, parks and gardens, of his youth. The people who lived in the skyscrapers knew nothing of the old man -- most didn't even know each other.

One winter night, the old man sat in his little house, thinking sadly of Christmases long ago when friends and family gathered to tells stories and sing carols. The children would make gold paper stars and hang them in the windows to welcome visitors. The old man sighed. Nowadays, no one in the noisy, impersonal city, filled with garish, glittering holiday lights, would even notice old-fashioned paper stars.

But memory -- and the Christmas spirit -- can be powerful and miraculous, as the old man with his basket full of stars proves in this joyous holiday story.

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