Pioneer Living Survival

I BELIEVE IN SANTA CLAUS

  I remember my first Christmas with Grandma.  I was just a kid.  I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her.  On the way, 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 KIrby'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 behind me in Mrs. Pollack's grade two-class.  Bobby 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 the had a cough, but all us 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 settles on a red corduroy one that had a hood with it.  It looked real warm, and he would like that.

  "Is it 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 evenging, 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 wispered, " Get going." I took a deep berath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down and flew back to safety of the bushes and Grandma.

  Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the font 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 are: 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 HAE LOVE TO SHARE

     HEALTH TO SPARE AND FRIENDS THAT CARE

     AND MAY YOU ALWAYS BELIVE IN THE MAGIC OF SANTA CLAUS

p.s If this doesn't bring a little mist to your eyes youe are human, God bless, Steve