This is the first year that my daughter has reached that terrible age when she no longer believes in Santa Clause and I am sure that there are many of you out there who have gone, are going, or who will soon go through this time. It's, to me, a sad point in a child's life as she leaves behind those young years with all their magical moments and faces the real world out there. I'm thankful that this world has folks like the many on these lists who take time to share their gifts freely with others. You give me hope that the world that she will grow up in will have many folks just like you along her pathways. May I wish you all a happy and joyful Christmas and may you experience the true meaning of this season. I penned the following poem to attach to her gifts this year - I'm an engineer so no comments! Santa's Night Before Christmas 'Twas the night before Christmas as I sat in the snow, Trying to figure which route I should go. All over the world children waited to hear The jingle of bells, the hoof sounds of deer. But to many this Christmas is different I'm told. Some children now think that they are too old To believe in a stranger, never heard, never seen. To many it now seems just like a dream. There's young ones now tucked up asleep for the night Who forgot to leave cookies, leave on just one light. No longer they dream of this mystical man Who claims to do magic, well, believe me, I can. There's lots of these kids whose time it has past To wonder, to dream - didn't time fly so fast? That stocking, for years hung there on the bed, Now lies in a heap with the laundry instead. There's Timothy, London, Sarah, Dromore, Lyn out in Reston, don't believe any more. Chris out in Bangkok, Maggie, Seattle They no longer listen to hear the hoofs rattle. On rooftops all over the world late this night no noise will be heard - but I'll be there in spite of the lack of belief in this giver of toys. For to me it's the giving that brings so much joys. There's new ones each year that I add to my list So many, I'm careful, not one will be missed. Proud parents watch over the babe in the bed too young yet to know 'bout this old man in red. But in years yet to come they will tell her anew 'bout the old man who visit's and creeps silently through leaving presents and gifts all over the ground and she too'll be excited when this night comes around. So for all you young adults who think I'm not here. Listen closely tonight, and just maybe you'll hear the low tinkle of bells as we fly through the night. The soft patter of hoofs as they land, oh so light, The rustle of paper as the gifts are laid down The light swish as I pass on my way out of town. For this old man still knows that as long as he's living he will ask no reward for the joy's in the giving. Have a very happy and joyous Christmas Ian Moore