My parents had a friend who arrived as Santa on Christmas Eve for a couple years. We, of course, took pictures with him. When, a few years later, a classmate insisted there is no Santa, I said, “I’ll bet you a dollar there is...I have proof!” I went home and asked my mom. She told me the truth and I burst into tears and asked, “Do I have to pay him the dollar?” That did not stop me from continuing the magical Santa tradition with my own sons who still get presents from Santa in their late 20s!
My parents never promoted Santa, but never denied him either. Instead, they talked to us about "Christmas magic" to explain the special gifts. That made the transition easy as we grew older. My daughter left cookies and milk out for Santa and we talked about "Christmas magic" and the transition was easy.
This beautiful story came in from musician Joe Newberry:
"My mother, Virginia Dare Newberry, loved this time of year.
She would always have the things that made a Newberry Christmas ready to go the day after Thanksgiving :
The paper-mache snowman who started life as a cover for a whiskey bottle.
A Christmas Card holder in the shape of a Christmas tree made by Aunt Nan.
Fragile glass and half-melted wax ornaments.
Jingle bells for the front door.
A battered Christmas plate for the mantle.
Mother entered her final illness over Thanksgiving, 1981, passing away a week later on December 4, and so she had done no holiday decorating.
None of us felt like pulling out the trappings of Christmas, so it was a double blow to lose her and our traditions at the same time.
One day shortly after she died, hunting for something, I opened the closet where she stored the holiday items, and noticed that there were packages already wrapped.
Of course there were, because she shopped for "gifties," as she called them, all year long.
And there, on the "From-Tos," were our names written in her hand.
The phrase "a thrill of hope" came to mind as it dawned on me that we would have one more Christmas with her.
"Oh, all who love and who believe, they are the wisest ones. Those who give, and who receive, the Magi they become."
My father was a Unitarian minister, and every Christmas eve service, he read "King John's Christmas," by A. A. Milne to the congregation. It still makes me cry to read it.
My story is bittersweet. One Christmas when our two were young we forgot to label a couple of the gifts as coming from us and put Santa on everything. Little Elise, a very sensitive Cancer, opened the last gift and started to cry. We were totally taken aback. She snuffled through her tears, "You guys didn't get me anything!" Lesson learned!
I had read that letter in your column and loved your wise answer.
Thank you so much for sharing that lovely multi generational family Christmas story.
Happy tears again.
Robin Theilmann
My parents had a friend who arrived as Santa on Christmas Eve for a couple years. We, of course, took pictures with him. When, a few years later, a classmate insisted there is no Santa, I said, “I’ll bet you a dollar there is...I have proof!” I went home and asked my mom. She told me the truth and I burst into tears and asked, “Do I have to pay him the dollar?” That did not stop me from continuing the magical Santa tradition with my own sons who still get presents from Santa in their late 20s!
My parents never promoted Santa, but never denied him either. Instead, they talked to us about "Christmas magic" to explain the special gifts. That made the transition easy as we grew older. My daughter left cookies and milk out for Santa and we talked about "Christmas magic" and the transition was easy.
What a touching and lovely story. Brought tears to my eyes. Thank you for sharing and happy holidays to you, Amy.
Thank you for sharing this with us! It is a wonderful reminder of the magical season that Christmas is!
Thanks for sharing this story. It made me smile and cry just a bit 😇
This beautiful story came in from musician Joe Newberry:
"My mother, Virginia Dare Newberry, loved this time of year.
She would always have the things that made a Newberry Christmas ready to go the day after Thanksgiving :
The paper-mache snowman who started life as a cover for a whiskey bottle.
A Christmas Card holder in the shape of a Christmas tree made by Aunt Nan.
Fragile glass and half-melted wax ornaments.
Jingle bells for the front door.
A battered Christmas plate for the mantle.
Mother entered her final illness over Thanksgiving, 1981, passing away a week later on December 4, and so she had done no holiday decorating.
None of us felt like pulling out the trappings of Christmas, so it was a double blow to lose her and our traditions at the same time.
One day shortly after she died, hunting for something, I opened the closet where she stored the holiday items, and noticed that there were packages already wrapped.
Of course there were, because she shopped for "gifties," as she called them, all year long.
And there, on the "From-Tos," were our names written in her hand.
The phrase "a thrill of hope" came to mind as it dawned on me that we would have one more Christmas with her.
"Oh, all who love and who believe, they are the wisest ones. Those who give, and who receive, the Magi they become."
My father was a Unitarian minister, and every Christmas eve service, he read "King John's Christmas," by A. A. Milne to the congregation. It still makes me cry to read it.
My story is bittersweet. One Christmas when our two were young we forgot to label a couple of the gifts as coming from us and put Santa on everything. Little Elise, a very sensitive Cancer, opened the last gift and started to cry. We were totally taken aback. She snuffled through her tears, "You guys didn't get me anything!" Lesson learned!
What a lovely story that touched my heart and brought tears. Thank you for sharing and a happy holiday to you, Amy.