ProStockJunkie
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Subject: Is There a Santa .
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No Santa, Ridiculous
I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit my Grandma on the day my
big sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she jeered. "Even
dummies know that!"
My grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day
because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the
truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when
swallowed with one of her world-famous cinnamon buns.
Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her
everything. She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus!" she snorted. "Ridiculous!
Don't believe it. That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me
mad, plain mad. Now, put on your coat, and let's go"
"Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked.
"Where" turned out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store in town that had
a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through it doors, Grandma
handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days.
"Take this money and buy something for someone who needs it. I'll wait for you
in the car." Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's.
I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother,but never
had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and crowded,
full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping.
For a few moments I just stood there, wondering what to buy, and who on earth
to buy it for. Suddenly I thought of Bobbie Decker. He sat right behind me
in Mrs. Pollock's grade-two class.
Bobbie Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out for
recess during the winter. I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing
excitement. I would buy Bobbie Decker a coat. I settled on a red corduroy
one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that.
That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat in Christmas paper and ribbons,
and write, "To Bobbie, From Santa Claus" on it -- Grandma said that Santa
always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobbie Decker's house,
explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially one of Santa's
helpers.
Grandma parked down the street from Bobbie's house, and she and I crept
noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk. Then Grandma gave me a
nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going." I took a deep
breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pressed
his doorbell and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma.
From there we watched Bobbie come to the door and pick up his present from
"Santa."
Forty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside
my grandma, in Bobbie Decker's bushes. That night, I realized that those awful
rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were: "Ridiculous.
Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team."
Merry Christmas everyone.....The spirit is in you......Remember that!
**********************************
No Santa, Ridiculous
I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit my Grandma on the day my
big sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she jeered. "Even
dummies know that!"
My grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day
because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the
truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when
swallowed with one of her world-famous cinnamon buns.
Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her
everything. She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus!" she snorted. "Ridiculous!
Don't believe it. That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me
mad, plain mad. Now, put on your coat, and let's go"
"Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked.
"Where" turned out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store in town that had
a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through it doors, Grandma
handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days.
"Take this money and buy something for someone who needs it. I'll wait for you
in the car." Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's.
I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother,but never
had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and crowded,
full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping.
For a few moments I just stood there, wondering what to buy, and who on earth
to buy it for. Suddenly I thought of Bobbie Decker. He sat right behind me
in Mrs. Pollock's grade-two class.
Bobbie Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out for
recess during the winter. I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing
excitement. I would buy Bobbie Decker a coat. I settled on a red corduroy
one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that.
That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat in Christmas paper and ribbons,
and write, "To Bobbie, From Santa Claus" on it -- Grandma said that Santa
always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobbie Decker's house,
explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially one of Santa's
helpers.
Grandma parked down the street from Bobbie's house, and she and I crept
noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk. Then Grandma gave me a
nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going." I took a deep
breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pressed
his doorbell and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma.
From there we watched Bobbie come to the door and pick up his present from
"Santa."
Forty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside
my grandma, in Bobbie Decker's bushes. That night, I realized that those awful
rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were: "Ridiculous.
Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team."
Merry Christmas everyone.....The spirit is in you......Remember that!
