Me, I believe in Santa Claus. And I know at least one other person who does too -- more on that later.
The first time I remember visiting Santa was in North Carolina. I was probably 3 or 4 years old. And yes Virginia, I asked him for a (toy) vacuum cleaner -- the collection was starting even then. A year or two later, we moved back to Kentucky, and that's when Santa really took center stage.
We'd open our presents on Christmas Eve. I'm an only child, but my two younger cousins would come over and we'd have dinner with my parents, grandparents, aunt and uncle. Just when those of us who were waiting for Santa couldn't stand it any longer, he would appear. At the back door. With a big bag full of toys and other gifts. And the best part was, Santa Claus knew our names! Life was good, indeed. Never did understand though why my dad always missed Santa's appearance. He always had to go to the neighbors' house for some reason.
After we kids had a chance to tear open our presents, run through the house and scream for a while, we would all pack up and drive to another set of cousins' house about 10 miles away. Santa would visit them too, and knew all their names. And the really cool part was that Santa still knew my name too, and talked about visiting with me earlier in the evening. How much better does it get than that?
Somehow my dad always missed seeing Santa at my cousins' house too. Don't know why, but he always had to be somewhere else just before Santa showed up. Oh, and the adults still talk about the year Santa got chased through the snow by a pack of dogs.
Of course, kids grow up. In a few years, Dad stopped disappearing on Christmas Eve, and Santa waited until after we were asleep to make his appearance. Somehow though, the magical possibilities of Santa never left. Even at my most cynical, I've always found a way to believe in editor Frank Church's masterpiece from 1897: "Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound, and give to your life its highest beauty and joy."
A certain young lady in Atlanta also believes in Santa Claus. She knows because she's seen him, and it wasn't even Christmas. I was fortunate enough to witness what transpired.
It was few days before the big day a couple of years ago. A gentleman and his wife, tired from their travels, went into a Max & Erma's restaurant for a late dinner. This particular gentleman was wearing jeans, a red shirt, was a trifle um, round, shall we say, and had a beard which hadn't been trimmed in a while. Looked a bit like me, some would say. Because it was getting late, the restaurant lights were turned down.
A young family -- Mom, Dad, little girl no more than four years old -- sat down at the table adjacent to the couple. Well, from the moment that young lady sat down, she was positive she was in the presence of the big guy with the sleigh. She was enthralled throughout her meal. Santa, feeling a trifle nonplussed, did his best to play along.
As the family was leaving, the little girl's head drowsily on her father's shoulder, Santa called out HO HO HO loudly enough for half the restaurant to hear. I know Santa will never forget how her eyes widened. Her parents smiled as they walked out. That little girl knew -- KNEW -- she had seen the real Santa Claus.
Oh, and by the way Dad, you'll be happy to know the next generation of Santa Claus is carrying on the family tradition.... Merry Christmas to all.
