Thank you Crystal. I got goosebumps and a lump in my throat.
Santa Clause
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 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, and 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:
$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!
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year
Who says an 8x10 is a BIG SIZE? We get a lot of calls of people saying, What is the best size? I dont want a really big portrait. Well, this is a 24x30 and we dont think its too big do you?
When you visit our studio, you will also see 30x40 inch prints and we believe the bigger the better! Espically for families.
We dont recommend close up face shots to be that large. But the image does need to fill the space its hung in. Just our recommendation.
We will discuss sizes with you to help determine what is best for your particular room.
Just thought you'd like to know.
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