I never believed in Santa.
I know that sounds preposterous, but it's true. I was a pretty reality-based kid and to my mind there was just a total lack of evidence as to his existence.
For starters, my mom was (and is) left-handed. She has the kind of distinctive penmanship that can only come from a person that has to curl her left arm all around the paper to write. Strangely enough, Santa's handwriting looked exactly like Mom's. So did the Tooth Fairy's handwriting. And the Easter Bunny's.
Secondly, we didn't have a chimney. We had a space heater with a 6" diameter pipe that went up to the ceiling. Even if Santa could have managed to squeeze himself down the pipe, he would have ended up burning his ass.
My Mom didn't work, mainly because my Dad wouldn't let her. He thought people would think that he wasn't man enough to support his family if she did. I lived a block from my grade school and would come home every day for lunch to find more presents under the tree. "Where did these come from?" I'd ask. "Oh, Santa happened to be in the neighborhood and dropped these off early so he wouldn't have as much work to do on Christmas Eve," my Mom would reply.
It was a big day when the J.C.Penney's Christmas catalog came in the mail. Mom would sit down with me to try and get an idea of what I wanted for Christmas. "What do you want Santa to bring you?" she would ask. "This, I guess," I'd say, pointing at something random. "Are you sure you don't like this better?" Mom would say frantically, pointing at the one she'd already bought. "This is much better, don't you think?"
I thought that kids who believed every Santa with a fake beard was sent down as a personal emissary from the Big Guy at North Pole were saps, but I didn't want to be the one to burst their bubbles. I'm pretty sure my sister believed - we really never talked about it. Our conversations were usually about who was the cutest Beatle.
So, I put cookies out for my Dad to eat and read the notes that my Mom left.
And I never told my parents.
May your holidays be joyful, surrounded by people you love and people who love you.
2 comments:
I love your photo of decorating the tree! It's better than David's since they didn't bother to get everyone facing the camera.
I had found a couple pre-made Easter baskets in the storage closet when I was 7 or 8. When I questioned my mom, she laughed and asked if I really thought a rabbit could carry baskets all around. She then continued telling me the truth about Santa. Then she delivered one the last jab with " And another thing... why would fairies want your old teeth?!"
She must have been having a bad day. I know I did.
Later that year, while looking through a box of photos she kept, I found a small purple velvet bag and inside were all my baby teeth.
Awwww, Sharon . . . that's so sweet. I never asked Mom what she did with my old teeth.
P.S. I suspect my Dad walked in with the Instamatic while we were decorating and yelled "Smile!"
Post a Comment