A Santa Story - Author Unknown

I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was just a kid. I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her 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. I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true.

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. I hadn't even finished my Second World-famous cinnamon bun. "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 its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days. "Take this money," she said, "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, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for. I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school,the people who went to my church. I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's grade-two class. Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out to recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn't have a cough; he didn't have a good coat. I fingered the ten-dollar
bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobby 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.

"Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down. "Yes, ma'am," I replied shyly. "It's for Bobby." The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her about how Bobby really needed a good winter coat. I didn't get any change,but she put the coat in a bag, smiled again, and wished me a Merry
Christmas.

That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible) in Christmas paper and ribbons and wrote, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it. Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby 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 Bobby'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, pounded his door and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma. Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open. Finally it did, and there stood Bobby.

Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby 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.

I still have the Bible, with the coat tag tucked inside: $19.95.

May you always have LOVE to share, HEALTH to spare and FRIENDS that care. And may you always believe in the magic of Santa Claus!

Merry Christmas!

Isn't This The Cutest Ever!

This is my granddaughter Lily. Isn't she just about the cutest bug you ever saw? She's standing on her front porch in what I assume she's in her Halloween costume. But whatever the occasion, she sure caught my heart.

Last year Jim and I went down to Ausitn to celebrate Halloween with she and her two brothers. What a blast. They live in a neighborhood that is teeming with young families and children, not unlike the area where I grew up in "the olden days". Young families, young children, lots of laughter and good friends.

We didn't go to Austin this year so Lily sent me this picture. I didn't ask why she was wearing a bug on her head but I sure hope it was part of her costume? If not it should be. Wish I could have been a fly on the wall to see her ringing doorbells in that get up.

This year instead of traveling, we opted to stay home and give out candy at our own front door. I didn't wear a costume, but we still had the most Trick or Treaters in years. Seems the holiday is making a comeback, or more likely, my neighborhood is turning over and more young families are moving in. Oh dear! That's good news and bad news. The good news is that we are in a popular neighborhood; the bad news is people my age are moving out. The unanswered question: where are they going? Unfortunately the answer is either they are scaling down, have moved to the home or permanently reside in the cemetary. None of those options sound good to me.

Needing more information, I researched, asking one man why there were so many trick or treaters this year. His response. "Haven't you heard? This is the best street ever. I got a message on my cell phone to come here. Almost every house has a light on!"

Now who would have thought it? I am in the middle of things and didn't even know it! So I'm sticking here for the time being. Maybe next year I'll borrow Lily's bug and be my own bug on the wall. I bet I'm not as cute but, hey, if you don't try, you'll never know.