Santa 1 through 4
Someone once said there are four parts to one's life.
You believe in Santa Claus
You don't believe in Santa Claus
You are Santa Claus
You look like Santa Claus
I have a problem with this someone. First, I do believe in Santa Claus, I have no problem with that. Second, I have never not believed in Santa Claus. Who else could have brought presents to our house while my family was at Christmas Eve services and then at my maternal grandparents' house after church.
When the neighborhood kids would try to tell me there was no Santa Claus, I knew they were lying. There was never a Christmas when we returned from Grandma and Grandpa's that we didn't have a tree full of wrapped presents when we arrived at home. Who put those presents there, and come to think of it my parents didn't have money for presents. It had to be Santa. I still believe.
There might be a little truth to number three. Elaine and I might have become Santa Clauses to our kids and maybe a few others. I'm pretty sure both batches of our kids have appeared on Santa's naughty list preventing the real Santa from sliding down our chimney. I couldn't let the little "darlings" have a bad Christmas, so I reluctantly admit, I have had to act as Santa at my own house. I regret that decision almost every year.
I think it is like four that I have the biggest problem with. The part that you look like Santa Claus. Yes, I have white hair, a longish white beard, a red shirt, black rubber boots, and a red hat with a white snowball-looking thing on the end. I don't have red pants.
What if I were to tell you my beard is/was inspired by my nephew who has a long beard? It's not my fault his beard is black and mine is white. His will be white soon enough. See, my reasoning has nothing to do with my desire to look like Santa. What if I were to tell you razor blades cost money that I would rather spend on Christmas presents? I will admit though, that when I wear my glasses I look like a very handsome Santa.
I hope this explains my thoughts on Christmas. I have fun at Christmas. Always did, always will. I miss some of the old traditions. For Christmas, my grandfather gave each one of his grandchildren a shiny Morgan Silver Dollar. I still have mine. They mean more to me now than they did when I was a kid. Stop it, I'm not talking about monetary value, I'm talking about sentimental value. I thought about starting a tradition like that for my kids, but they would rather have X-box games.
Okay, that's enough. You guys have families and holidays to prepare for. Merry Christmas. I hope when you see the guys/gals with the bells and red buckets, wish them a Merry Christmas, and if you can, drop some cash in the bucket.
BTW, should you run into Elaine tell her I DO Not look like Santa.
Knitting needles make great stocking stuffers. I know where to get them. Love ya, God Bless, Merry Christmas.
Our crazy lives