janezapchef
Gold Member
- 1,102
This is NOT intended to be a debate in religion and what's right/not on the idea of Santa. I just received this email and thought it was great! Enjoy, or not, whatever the case may be, but this is the spirit of giving which is what I believe Santa is all about...
>
> I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was
> just a kid. I remember tearing across town on my bike to
> visit her. On the way, 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 Dec ker'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: $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 adventure with Grandma. I was
> just a kid. I remember tearing across town on my bike to
> visit her. On the way, 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 Dec ker'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: $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!
