Do You Believe in Santa Clause?

PJO_5

Wallies,

Hope everyone is doing well, and not too crazy this time of year. Between the cold and the holiday season it must be a bit nuts...

Here's a little ditty I just read and figured it would be good for this wonderful site.

Merry Christmas To All!

Take Care, PJO



A lesson for us all -


BELIEVE IN SANTA CLAUS

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!

bb_7

there

> Wallies,

>

> Hope everyone is doing well, and not

> too crazy this time of year. Between the cold

> and the holiday season it must be a bit

> nuts...

>

> Here's a little ditty I just read and

> figured it would be good for this wonderful

> site.

>

> Merry Christmas To All!

>

> Take Care,

> PJO

>

>

>

> A lesson for us all -

>

> BELIEVE IN

> SANTA CLAUS

>

> 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!

DanHolohan

I love this story

Thanks, Patrick.

Robert O'Connor_12

I BELIEVE!

Ragu_5

Patrick...

Thank you SO much for sharing this wonderful story. Jack

To Learn More About This Professional, Click Here to Visit Their Ad in "Find A Professional"

Weezbo

Of course. doesn't everybody?

Sheesh..*~/:)

jackchips_2

What a

wonderful story, Patrick. Thanks and kudos to Grandma and the "lady behind the counter".

Jack

David Sutton_6

As i sit here!

Siting at the desk just sent out all the bill to the supply house, got a headache and upset tummy,a little stressed,

But after reading that i some how fell soooomuch better!!
Thank you Patrick!!


David

Bob Sweet

Oh boy

I love stories like that! Thanks

To Learn More About This Professional, Click Here to Visit Their Ad in "Find A Professional"

m dewolfe

I just watched my 9 year old sonapprentice sit on santas lap at our tree lighting and tell him that he wanted a his own prestolite rig....oh yea I sent my present off to New York cares about a week ago too.....yup...I belive!