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A Christmas Story

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

it's 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 had no 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 in Christmas paper and ribbons

(a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible) 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 doorbell 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.

E-Mail: info@BigWaveSanta.com

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