As an 8 year old in the early 1930’s I believed in Santa Claus. This was during the depression years and we had to go to a church to get the food for Christmas dinner. My 12 year old neighbor used to chide me about my belief. He said Santa couldn’t fit down anybody’s chimney and also leave toys for everybody. I was convinced that he did because he left me an electric train and I knew my parents could not afford it. I showed him marks on the front door jamb which must have been made by Santa’s bag when he came in the front door if he didn’t come down the chimney. Years later my mother told me her employer made the train possible.
Twenty years later, I was happily married. My wife and I had a nine month old boy who was just beginning to walk. On Christmas morning, we took him downstairs and sat him in front of the freshly decorated tree with toys around it. He squealed with delight and in one grand motion he started looking at the bottom of the tree, then slowly let his gaze travel up the tree and when he got to the top he was off balance and rolled over backward. It was a hilarious sight as he recovered quickly and made joyful sounds full of glee.
Now in my mid-eighties I look forward to enjoying Christmas not only in the homes of my children and grandchildren who live nearby but also with my daughter, granddaughters, and great grandchildren, who live in Atlanta, via Skype. Who says there isn’t a Santa Claus.
Written by Thomas Taylor