If you have been busy today stopping by the various Fun Monday stops, you already realize that the wonderful and kind Karisma is today's hostess. And, you are aware of this week's assignment, which is "I want you to take a trip down memory lane, and keep right on going, right back to your childhood. And I want to hear "THAT STORY". You remember the one? Yes, you do! The one your parents, siblings, extended family or friends, would never let you forget, live down or get over!"It could have been funny, embarrassing, shocking, delightful, naughty, mischievous, or just so darned cute that everyone felt the need to remind you of it, and keep reminding you of it, all your life."
I am not sure that this story is cute, shocking, delightful, naughty or even shocking. In fact, you might find this story disillusioning or just plain weird. When I was very young...maybe three, my mother took me to see Santa Claus. I am not sure of traditions elsewhere on our globe, but here in the United States, parents bundle their children up for an annual visit to see Santa. Usually Santa is stationed at the local mall. When I was young, Santa sat in a throne at the nicest department store in town, Wolf & Dessaur. I think that the plan for this traditional visit is twofold. The store wants to sell pictures of America's little darlings sitting on Santa's lap and what parent can resist. Second, the child tells Santa what he or she wants for Christmas. Then, the parents can spend some hard-earned cash to buy the bicycle, the i-Pod, the video game, or some other much-desired toy.
I remember that first visit to Santa. I was a timid child and was frightened by the Jolly Old Elf. I remember being to told to tell Santa what I wanted for Christmas. Maybe I am or was socially challenged, but I do not remember my visit to Santa as joy-filled. Within a few years, my older neighborhood friends decided to share with me about the mythology of the Santa gift-giving. Yes folks, I do mean my little friends enlightened me that "there is no such thing as Santa Claus" and that "our parents put the gifts under the tree." Since I was not especially fond of Santa, this news did not especially disappoint me. On the other hand, my parents seemed to enjoy this holiday play-acting so I did not mention my new-found knowledge. Years later, I did tell my parents that I knew that Santa did not bring gifts. Moreover, I revealed that I knew that they were the benefactors of the lovely presents and that I had known this for years. When my mother asked, why I did not let them know about my disbelief. I repsonded that, "I did not want to disappoint them." My parents always thought took this revelation to mean that I thought that they believed in Santa. However, they seemed to enjoy sharing this Santa Claus tradition with their youngest daughter so I let them think that I believed in the generosity of Old Saint Nick. My parents did like to repeat this story, but they never really had it quite right.
This a picture of the non-believer and Santa Claus in the early 1950's.