Is There a Santa Claus?
A friend sent me this story in an e-mail:
“I was 8 years old when my big sister dropped the bomb: ‘There is no Santa Claus.’ I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth went down a whole lot easier with one of her world-famous cinnamon buns. So, I fled to her that day.
“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. Put on your coat, and let’s go.’ ‘Go
where, Grandma?’ I asked. I hadn’t even finished my second world-amous 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.’ 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 and was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair. He sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock’s class. Bobby
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 Bobby 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 Bobby Decker a coat!
“I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. ‘Is this a Christmas present for someone?’ the lady behind the counter asked. ‘Yes,’I replied shyly. ‘It’s for Bobby.’ The lady smiled at me, put the coat in a bag, and wished me a Merry Christmas. I didn’t get any change. That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat in Christmas paper (a little tag fell
out of the coat and Grandma tucked it in her Bible). She wrote, ‘To Bobby, From Santa Claus.’
“Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby 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 Bobby’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. We waited in the dark for the front door to open. Finally it did. There stood Bobby. Fifty years haven’t dimmed the thrill of those moments. 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.
I still have the Bible with the tag tucked inside: $19.95.”
© G. Michael Cocoris, 12/24/2012
“I was 8 years old when my big sister dropped the bomb: ‘There is no Santa Claus.’ I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth went down a whole lot easier with one of her world-famous cinnamon buns. So, I fled to her that day.
“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. Put on your coat, and let’s go.’ ‘Go
where, Grandma?’ I asked. I hadn’t even finished my second world-amous 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.’ 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 and was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair. He sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock’s class. Bobby
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 Bobby 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 Bobby Decker a coat!
“I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. ‘Is this a Christmas present for someone?’ the lady behind the counter asked. ‘Yes,’I replied shyly. ‘It’s for Bobby.’ The lady smiled at me, put the coat in a bag, and wished me a Merry Christmas. I didn’t get any change. That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat in Christmas paper (a little tag fell
out of the coat and Grandma tucked it in her Bible). She wrote, ‘To Bobby, From Santa Claus.’
“Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby 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 Bobby’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. We waited in the dark for the front door to open. Finally it did. There stood Bobby. Fifty years haven’t dimmed the thrill of those moments. 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.
I still have the Bible with the tag tucked inside: $19.95.”
© G. Michael Cocoris, 12/24/2012