Dear Santa

Remember those letters you wrote to Santa Claus back during your grade school days? Don't you wish you could experience that same feeling again? That special time, as you so carefully wrote to Santa Claus, sending him your wish list for Christmas?

I can clearly remember a few of those letters. The paper we used in the second grade class was a light green in color. I don't know why, but it was a bit wider than it was tall. The lines on the paper had two different tones. The bottom line was lighter and that was where you inserted the lower case letters. The top line was darker, and your capital letters stretched all the way to the top of this line.

We were all so careful with our printing, when we wrote these letters to Santa. This was just about the most important correspondence we had ever composed. Penmanship in my printing days, and later when I learned script writing, was never my area of expertise. I tried to make the letters look as perfect as my ability permitted.

In my mind, I remember that I had some feelings of antipathy and confusion. I was after all in the second grade, and the concept of a real Santa Claus had become something, for which I had begun to have serious doubts. Only a couple of years before, I was totally convinced of Santa's existence.

I could still remember the night that my older sister had taken me down to our basement, to get something our Mother said she needed. Suddenly we heard these bells ringing, and there was yelling from our parents. My sister was able to run up the stairs much faster than my small legs could tackle the staircase.

To my surprise, once I had crested the last tread, I heard my father exclaim, "hurry up, you'll miss Santa Claus!" I ran as fast as I could. Out in the front yard my family gestured toward the road from our house. "Did you see him," they shouted?" My heart was beating so fast that I was quite certain it would explode out of my chest.

As you might surmise, I failed to catch sight of him. I peered far into the distance, but alas there was nothing. Next they drew my attention to what they claimed were sled tracks on the slight snow covering. I was beside myself with excitement, but there was also a sense of disappointment, that I had missed Santa. Why wasn't I able to run faster? Why did they have to send me downstairs, just at that moment? If I had only been upstairs, I could have easily made it in time to see him, and at least thank him.

I was just beginning to calm down a little, when everyone pointed to a sport in front of the house, right next to where the sled had stopped. At that instant, I likely came as close to actually fainting as I ever will. For there, next to the house was a new train set. I had like most young boys of that day wanted an electric train set more than anything. Here it was already on a table with the track and the cars hooked up and ready to go.

My eyes darted from the train set, to my family, then, back to where Santa had disappeared. For a few moments I could only look at the new train. I was actually afraid to touch it. The excitement was so great that it was burned into my memory forever.

Having reached the second grade, I felt older and so much wiser. I had begun to have suspicions about that previous night, Santa, and the train. I had heard from several friends at school by now, that Santa did not exist. If he did not exist, how did all of that happen? The answer was obvious, but one that I did not really want to accept. It was better to remain in that nether world between fact and fiction. When I was with my friends, I was going to act like there was no Santa, but on my own, he was still something I wanted to believe in.

So once again, I wrote to Santa. I asked for the current gift I wanted most. This year the train had become just a memory. Like many toys, it had been used almost to the point of no return. Finally one day, it just sort of quit running, and by that time I had tired of playing with it.

This year as I wrote Santa, my new wish was for a BB gun. All boys my age played cowboys and Indians, using play or "imaginary" guns. Now that we were in the second grade, a BB gun was the item we all prized. It would make us like the "Rifleman" on television. We could learn to shoot, and actually hit something.

As you might suspect, the BB gun arrived for Christmas that year. Santa did not actually appear at our house that Christmas. Instead, the BB gun was discovered in a wrapped package under our Christmas tree. I was too excited to give much thought to who actually sent me the present. After all, I had hunting to do the next day.

All across our country, millions of kids and grand kids will be writing Santa again this year (probably online now). Miraculously, Santa will again get all their wishes sorted out, and the gifts will arrive. Remember your own youth, and how much Santa meant to you then. If you are really interested in making Christmas wonderful, there are hundreds of organizations out there, that make sure every kid gets something from Santa, even if they are from a less fortunate home than yours. Try giving something extra. The feeling you will receive, is second only to the wonderful ones you remember, from you own youth, when Santa was still "real."