Fw: Remember when?

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Nan (Alias Ms. Magoo)

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Santa: The True Story

I remember my first Christmas party 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.

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

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 Bobbie Decker. He was a kid

with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs.

Pollock's grade-two class.

Bobbie 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 he had a cough, but all we kids knew that

Bobbie Decker didn't have a cough, and he didn't have a coat. I

fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy

Bobbie 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, " I replied shyly. " It's ... for Bobbie. " The nice lady smiled

at me. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag and

wished me a Merry Christmas.

That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat in Christmas paper and

ribbons, and write, " To Bobbie, From Santa Claus " on it -- Grandma

said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to

Bobbie 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 Bobbie'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 doorbell 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 Bobbie. Forty years haven't

dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my

grandma, in Bobbie 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.