> SANTA CLAUS - 'The Real Story' > > I remember my first Christmas party 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. 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 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 Bobbie Decker. > > He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and 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. His mother always wrote a note, telling the > teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobbie Decker didn't > have a cough, and he didn't have a coat. 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. > > "Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the counter > asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down. > > "Yes, "I replied shyly. "It's ... for Bobbie." The nice lady smiled at me. > I > didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag and wished me a Merry > Christmas. > > 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, pounded his doorbell 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 Bobbie. > > 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. > > ..Anonymous > > Hope this fills you with the Santa Spirit! Love you all very much! > > > > > > »§«:*´`³¤³´`*:»§«:*´`³¤³´`*:»§«:*´`³¤³´`*:»§«:*´`³¤³´`*:»§« Remember, the greatest gift is not found in a store nor under a tree, but in the hearts of true friends. Richiele 'Marie <*}}>< MSN [email protected] »§«:*´`³¤³´`*:»§«:*´`³¤³´`*:»§«:*´`³¤³´`*:»§«:*´`³¤³´`*:»§«