Rudy
Admin
Grandma and Santa Claus
I remember my first Christmas with Grandma when I was just a kid..
I remember tearing across town 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 that day because I
knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew
that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her
"world-famous" cinnamon buns. I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so.
It had to be true.
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!! Now, put on
your coat, and let's go."
"Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my second world-famous
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." Then she turned and
walked out of Kerby's.
I was only eight years old. 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: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school,
the people who went to my church.
I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with
bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's grade-two class.
Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out to 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; he didn't have a good 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. It looked real warm, and he would like that.
"Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I
laid my ten dollars down. "Yes, ma'am," I replied shyly. "It's for Bobby."
The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her about how Bobby really needed a good winter coat.
I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag, smiled again, and wished me a Merry
Christmas.
That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma
tucked it in her Bible) in Christmas paper and ribbons and wrote, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus"
on it. 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 door and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma.
Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the 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 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 coat tag tucked inside: it read $19.95.
May you always have LOVE to share, HEALTH to spare and FRIENDS that care...
And may you always believe in the magic of Santa Claus!
I remember my first Christmas with Grandma when I was just a kid..
I remember tearing across town 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 that day because I
knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew
that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her
"world-famous" cinnamon buns. I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so.
It had to be true.
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!! Now, put on
your coat, and let's go."
"Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my second world-famous
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." Then she turned and
walked out of Kerby's.
I was only eight years old. 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: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school,
the people who went to my church.
I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with
bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's grade-two class.
Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out to 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; he didn't have a good 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. It looked real warm, and he would like that.
"Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I
laid my ten dollars down. "Yes, ma'am," I replied shyly. "It's for Bobby."
The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her about how Bobby really needed a good winter coat.
I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag, smiled again, and wished me a Merry
Christmas.
That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma
tucked it in her Bible) in Christmas paper and ribbons and wrote, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus"
on it. 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 door and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma.
Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the 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 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 coat tag tucked inside: it read $19.95.
May you always have LOVE to share, HEALTH to spare and FRIENDS that care...
And may you always believe in the magic of Santa Claus!
