Monday, December 20, 2010


Before you get started I want you to know there are “spoilers” for those of you who may still BELIEVE.  So don’t read any further.
I was in the second grade the fall of 1949, and I had a horrible revelation foisted on me by a mean classmate at school.  My parents found themselves with a hysterical child, ranting on and on about a stupid boy and his stupid ideas.
I was VERY angry because he had snidely said,” Only BABIES believed in Santa Clause."  This boy was a “know it all jerk” and made my life miserable for the entire day. 
I was extremely upset, but what I did not realize at the time was that Mom and Dad were devastated.  I was too young to be robbed of this beautiful concept.   They weren’t ready to let their baby grow up.  By the end of the day they had hatched a plan to thwart this young man’s intentions.
The first was to have a conversation with the young man and his father.  Since my father was the Superintendent of that school district, this was a sobering event for the bully and his dad.  I was never bothered again.
The second strategy was what ended up being the most memorial event of my young life.  They set out to PROVE that Santa did indeed exist! 
Mom and Dad told me this story several times over the years and now I am sharing it with you.
On Christmas Eve it was snowing and we went about our usual tasks of setting out milk and cookies after figuring out the most likely place for Santa to get into our second floor apartment.  It was finally decided that he would probably come in through my bedroom window because it overlooked the roof of the grocery store next door.  Cookies and milk was set on my nightstand and the window was unlocked so Santa could easily gain entrance. 
I will never forget what my eyes were awakened to the next morning.  It was cold in my room because my window was slightly ajar.  There was snow accumulated on my windowsill and footprints made of snow just below the window on my rug.  The footprints led off into the front room and were slowly melting from the warmth.
I bounded from my bed and bumped into my parents who were standing there pointing out the window with amazed looks on their faces.  I turned and looked out the window and THERE on the rooftop of Shindlers Grocery Store were the long straight marks of Santa’s sleigh and tiny reindeer tracks. 
Just outside and below my window was a large round place smoothed out where Santa had obviously set his large sack of presents.  I WAS ESTATIC!  It was the best Christmas ever and turned out to be my last because other kids were determined to make this BABY grow up on their timetable not my parent’s.
What I didn’t hear that day was my mother gasped as placed her hand over her mouth.  What I didn’t see was that the sleigh tracks came across the roof and drove right past (over) a chimney in the middle of the roof.   Dad in his frantic early morning effort, with a closeline pole, had failed to notice the irregularity.
Nevertheless, it had the desired effect and proved to be one of my favorite stories to be told each Christmas.  Their expression of LOVE was the best present I could have received.  Christmas is supposed to be about the expression of LOVE.  I think that a lot of the people in this world have forgotten that.

kt 2010


  1. When I was about 7 or 8 I found out about the 'real' Santa. We lived in an old two story home. My brother (5 years older) and I had bedrooms on either side of the bathroom. The heater was in the middle of the house on the first floor directly under the upstairs bathroom. In the bathroom was a grate/vent in the floor to let the hot air in. Christmas Eve comes around, I'm in bed, asleep, when my brother wakes me up. He tells me to follow him so I can see Santa. Well, I wasn't going to miss that! So we go into the bathroom and watch through the grate. I waited and waited - all I could see were my parents going back and forth with packages. Then it dawned on me! My brother said I couldn't tell or my parents wouldn't bring me anymore gifts. So Mom and Dad never knew how I found out the real secret of Santa. I wasn't crushed, it was one of those ah-ha moments.

  2. I believed until I was 12. I was very determined to believe and (since I couldn't stand most other kids) I wasn't inclined to listen to what they said. I mean they had already tried to impart some sex ed and that was so bizarre as to be unbelievable (who knew!?).

    I wanted my kids to believe for the longest time, so I have always gone above and beyond and my two youngest still believe. My oldest who is 12 found out last year simply because she wouldn't stop being nosy.

    One year, we lived in a big, nice house with a huge yard- this was quite an experience since we had always lived in apartments and trailers. I was determined to make the most of it. We watched The Polar Express repeatedly that season, and when Christmas Eve came I put the kids to bed and set to work. My parents helped me and we had a blast. First, we had to eat the cookies left for Santa and have some milk, making sure to leave lip prints on the glass. We always left apples and carrots for the reindeer outside, so my dad took huge bites out of the apples (to imitate a reindeer bite) and we munched the carrots, leaving lots of dropped bits (reindeer are messy eaters). I took dirt and mud and made hoof prints on the porch and down into the yard. I used 2 boards, evenly spaced to simulate sleigh tracks in the yard and the final touch was 4 shiny silver sleigh bells that 'fell' off Santa's sleigh in the yard. Luckily, there was a bell for each child. The kids were so excited and even though there is some proof of Santa each year, this is the one the kids always talk about.

    Isn't it amazing what parents will do to preserve magic for a child?

  3. What a nice remembrance of your childhood, and to think your parents went to all that trouble to keep Santa alive for you. Very sweet.

  4. That is a beautiful story :)

    I still believe . . .

    Merry Christmas to you and your family . . . Gina

  5. I read this and thought 'how beautiful'. This is a lovely story and exactly the right mesage too. I hope you have a wonderful Christmas.
    I nosied around your blog after you visited me and left that very kind comment. I really like your blog and have signed up to be your latest follower. I'll enjoy reading more of your posts.
    heartfelt good wishes...welcome to the blogging community...I think it has probably helped to keep me sane the last few months :)
    Carol from

  6. Very sweet memory. Thanks for sharing.
    Out mingling, following you now! Come by Lucy's when you get a chance...

  7. Thanks for sharing that story with us. Merry Christmas :)

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    If you have any questions I'll be happy to answer them. I'm pretty new to blogging myself actually, but I've been entering giveaways for a long time :)
    Jen @ My Secret Home

  9. Wonderful memory! If you had visited Uncle Bill and Aunt Pearl, you would have known that Uncle Bill was Santa. He wore the appropriate Santa suit, had a bag with loads of presents, and always left the house after dark. I knew Dad was Santa because I saw him every year. He took toys to disadvantaged young children in our town for his lodge. (I didn't find that out for several years.)

  10. Such a wonderful story, and such wonderful parents. I can't remember when I quit believing, but we pretended for quite a long time. A joy to read.