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Doubting Santa
One Childhood Christmas

As a grandmother I have the opportunity to experience Christmas through my young grandsons' perspective. The purity of young children creates magic and makes the celebration of love so cherished. The joy on their faces on Christmas morning is a magnificent gift. There will come a time when I will be a part of their Christmas memories and they will share their stories as I do mine. When my children or grandchildren ask me what Christmas was like when I was growing up I tell them it was wonderful.

My little hometown in the winter was picture postcard classic and when I was a child I was enthralled by the snowy fields and lawns and the absolute stillness of a winter day. I loved the Christmas lights on the houses in the neighborhood and being out of school when my playmates and I spent hours each day sledding. There were plenty of hills that we raced down and each year one road was closed off to traffic so that we could race several blocks to end up downtown. Sledding was a way to make the days pass quickly.

I counted the days until Christmas and each year that day of days seemed to take forever to arrive. When I was a youngster we didn't hang stockings but we did open our gifts on Christmas Eve, which was traditionally spent with my paternal grandparents either at our home or theirs. Christmas day was spent with my mother's family. Not having the stockings hung with care did not lessen the expectation of Saint Nicholas because there was always a present from him under the tree along with gifts from family and friends. I am not sure how Santa knew when to come to our house as we were supposed to be sleeping on Christmas Eve with sugarplums dancing in our heads but we were never disappointed. For some reason he didn't seem to mind not having stockings to fill. He made an exception for us and I certainly wasn't going to question it.

We may not have had to wait until Christmas morning but we did have to wait until after dinner to open the gifts. I could hardly eat and was so relieved when dinner was over, the dishes done, and each of the adults ensconced in their chosen places for the opening of presents.

My first clear memory of Christmas as a little girl was when Santa almost didn't come. I wasn't very old, perhaps about six. Twas' the night before Christmas and off through the snow to my grandparent's house we went. The lights were twinkling, the air was sharp and cold and the snow was deep. When I stepped inside Grandmother's

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