[Vision2020] Believe in Santa Claus

[Chris Storhok]

Santa Claus did sell out this year to Duracell:
http://www.duracell.com/us/northpole/ 

Chris Storhok
North Pole, AK


-----Original Message-----
From: vision2020-bounces at moscow.com
[mailto:vision2020-bounces at moscow.com] On Behalf Of Tom Hansen
Sent: Friday, December 22, 2006 10:59 AM
To: Vision 2020; Idaho Vandals
Subject: [Vision2020] Believe in Santa Claus

Among the several listserves that I subscribe to was a posting entitled
"Believe in Santa Claus" -

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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!

Merry Christmas, Moscow (you, too, Vandals).

Tom Hansen
Moscow, Idaho

***********************************
Work like you don't need the money.
Love like you've never been hurt.
Dance like nobody's watching.

- Author Unknown
***********************************



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