There really is a Santa!

  Call him Santa Claus, Kris Kringle, Saint Nicholas, Jolly Old Elf..I don't care..I love Santa! Ask anyone who knows me and they will tell you that at this time of year, Santa takes over. Actually, what started as five little porcelain Santa figurines from my childhood has exploded into a full blown collection. That was not actually my intention and not all of my doings..everyone seemed to get in on the act of collecting Santas for me. Now every nook and cranny holds a Santa of some sort. There are the original five that can hold tiny candles.  They were gifts to my mother from someone well before I was born.  I was the lucky one that inherited these tiny figurines.

  They started this whole craze that fills the house starting in late November. Next, came the dated "International" collection. This set has approximately eighty of the happy little fellows. I am quite sure that none are authentic with their dates and nations but they are quite the impressive display in the china cabinet!

Then..who knew Santa went to college?

The snow skis..well, this I can understand!

And Santa has friends! Some in High Places

and some that disappear when the going gets hot!

Santa is musical,

soft and velvety,

and sometimes bewildered!

  Then quite the shocker! Santa is a PIRATE! And we were under the impression that he made all of those toys at his workshop! Yes..I have a large collection of Santas! Many, many more than I could ever show. They are everywhere!

  All of this brings me to one point...there really is a Santa Claus! I have seen him. I sat on his knee as a little girl. He brought happiness and gifts..he taught a never forgotten message of generosity, kindness and love. Yes, there is a Santa Claus..as Francis Pharcellus Church told eight year old Virginia O'Hanlon way back in 1897..yes, there is a Santa Claus. The only difference is my Santa was really a person. The particulars of the story are lost to feeble memory since it took place long, long ago. I was young, not much more than a toddler at the time. Times were hard that year for one reason or another. Dad, a farmer, and Mom, a housewife, were short on money and with five kids, Christmas looked a mite bleak. Sure, we had all the trappings of Christmas. There was a fresh-cut cedar tree in the living room strung with paper chain garland, foil ornaments and a few glass balls. The kitchen was filled with the fantastic aroma of home-baked sugar cookies with bright colored sugar sprinkled on top! And always music! Mom would play carols on the old upright piano, going seamlessly from one to the next, singing all the time! But the gifts..there were no gifts. Santa Claus was not coming to our house this Christmas even though we had all tried so hard to be extra special good. Being young, I had no clue..other than being told that Santa would be giving our gifts to other children that had less than us. My older brothers and sister were probably aware of why he would not be leaving masses of presents for us but I, in my happy little childish mind, just knew he would find a way. Many years later, I learned the story behind the story but at that time it was all magical to me. Come Christmas morning..my parents were right..Santa did take our gifts to someone else! There were a few meager gifts under the tree and our stockings held a shiny penny and some oranges that sure looked a lot like the satsumas that we picked from the tree in the yard just a few weeks earlier. That impressed me. Santa had a satuma tree at the North Pole! Wow! But only a few brightly wrapped presents and none for Mom and Dad. Then came a knock at the door. Dad answered and smiled broadly..there in the doorway was SANTA CLAUS!!! Bigger than life it seemed! A huge man bearing a (feed) sack full of gifts for everyone in the house! I was flabbergasted to say the least! There were gifts for everyone..Mom and Dad included! Then I got to sit on his knee while he drank a cup of hot cocoa. It also made me feel quite important to be in the know that Santa did not wear the red suit that everyone thought he did..and that silly hat with the white pompom on the end..myth! St. Nick, for any of you who never actually met him..wears blue jeans and a red flannel shirt. His hat is a knitted cap under a large Stetson! I should know..I met him..he is real!

  The story behind the story is so heartwarming that the tale would never be complete without its telling. It seems that whatever caused the shortage of finances that year was kept secret from most of the extended family. My parents were not ones to ask for assistance, they would make do somehow. But on Christmas Eve, my mother could not contain her tears when a neighbor from a few miles down the road called with holiday greetings. She poured out her story to Wilda and then felt much better after getting the load off of her shoulders. She was able to go on singing the carols, baking the cookies and being the wonderful mother she always was. This neighbor told her husband, Sidney, and they decided then and there that something had to be done. Somehow they managed to pull together gifts at such a late notice. Then on Christmas morning, Mr. Sidney drove to our house to deliver the sack of goodies. I do not believe now that he intentionally wanted me to believe he was Santa Claus, but rather was just doing the "neighborly" thing. In my young mind, though, he was not the man that I saw at our house probably on a weekly basis..he was Santa. I even remember telling Mr. Sidney about Santa's visit the next time he and Mrs. Wilda came to our house. Oh, the beautiful innocence of a child's mind. The lesson this Santa Claus taught to one little girl many, many years ago..to give from the heart without expecting anything in return.