RaspberrySwirl
Well-Known Member
e-mail I received-
I remember my first Christmasadventure with Grandma. I was just a kid. I remember tearing acrosstown 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 thatday because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma alwaystold the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole loteasier when swallowed with one of her world-famous cinnamon buns. Iknew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to betrue.
Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I toldher everything. She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus!" she snorted."Ridiculous! Don't believe it. That rumor has been going around foryears, and it makes me mad, plain mad. Now, put on your coat, and let'sgo."
"Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my secondworld-famous, cinnamon bun. "Where" turned out to be Kerby's GeneralStore, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about every-thing. As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars.That was a bundle in those days. "Take this money," she said, "and buysomething for someone who needs it. I'll wait for you in the car." Thenshe turned and walked out of Kerby's.
I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother, butnever had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed bigand crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmasshopping. For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutchingthat ten- dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buyit for.
I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, thekids at school, the people who went to my church. I was just aboutthought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid withbad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock'sgrade-two class. Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that becausehe never went out or recess during the winter. His mother always wrotea note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knewthat Bobby Decker didn't have a cough, and he didn't have a coat. Ifingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy BobbyDecker a coat!
I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked realwarm, and he would like that. "Is this a Christmas present forsomeone?" the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my tendollars down. "Yes," I replied shyly. "It's ... for Bobby." The nicelady smiled at me. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in abag and wished me a Merry Christmas.
That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat in Christmas paper andribbons (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it inher Bible) and write, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it -- Grandmasaid that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over toBobby Decker's house, explaining as we went that I was now and foreverofficially one of Santa's helpers.
Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and she and I creptnoiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk. Then Grandma gaveme a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going."
I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present downon his step, pounded his doorbell and flew back to the safety of thebushes and Grandma. Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness forthe 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 realizedthat those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma saidthey were: ridiculous. Santa was alive and well, and we were on histeam.
I still have the Bible, with the tag tucked inside: $19.95.
Thought for the Day:
He who has no Christmas in his heart will never find Christmas under a tree.
I remember my first Christmasadventure with Grandma. I was just a kid. I remember tearing acrosstown 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 thatday because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma alwaystold the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole loteasier when swallowed with one of her world-famous cinnamon buns. Iknew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to betrue.
Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I toldher everything. She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus!" she snorted."Ridiculous! Don't believe it. That rumor has been going around foryears, and it makes me mad, plain mad. Now, put on your coat, and let'sgo."
"Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my secondworld-famous, cinnamon bun. "Where" turned out to be Kerby's GeneralStore, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about every-thing. As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars.That was a bundle in those days. "Take this money," she said, "and buysomething for someone who needs it. I'll wait for you in the car." Thenshe turned and walked out of Kerby's.
I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother, butnever had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed bigand crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmasshopping. For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutchingthat ten- dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buyit for.
I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, thekids at school, the people who went to my church. I was just aboutthought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid withbad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock'sgrade-two class. Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that becausehe never went out or recess during the winter. His mother always wrotea note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knewthat Bobby Decker didn't have a cough, and he didn't have a coat. Ifingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy BobbyDecker a coat!
I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked realwarm, and he would like that. "Is this a Christmas present forsomeone?" the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my tendollars down. "Yes," I replied shyly. "It's ... for Bobby." The nicelady smiled at me. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in abag and wished me a Merry Christmas.
That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat in Christmas paper andribbons (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it inher Bible) and write, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it -- Grandmasaid that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over toBobby Decker's house, explaining as we went that I was now and foreverofficially one of Santa's helpers.
Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and she and I creptnoiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk. Then Grandma gaveme a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going."
I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present downon his step, pounded his doorbell and flew back to the safety of thebushes and Grandma. Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness forthe 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 realizedthat those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma saidthey were: ridiculous. Santa was alive and well, and we were on histeam.
I still have the Bible, with the tag tucked inside: $19.95.
Thought for the Day:
He who has no Christmas in his heart will never find Christmas under a tree.
, I barely remember my story
