Merry Christmas to you both and to all Santa's helpers, big and small!
Nancy Lemke
Research Coordinator
Hermelin Brain Tumor Center
Henry Ford Hospital
Detroit
-----Original message-----
From: "Thomas Jasper" tjasper@copc.net
Date: Thu, 20 Dec 2007 16:09:31 -0500
To: "Ingles Claire" CIngles@uwhealth.org
Subject: RE: [Histonet] Off Topic: NO SANTA CLAUS
> Thanks Claire, totally awesome. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year from
> one of Santa helpers to another.
> Tom Jasper
> Bend, OR (by way of northern WI)
>
> -----Original Message-----
> From: histonet-bounces@lists.utsouthwestern.edu
> [mailto:histonet-bounces@lists.utsouthwestern.edu] On Behalf Of Ingles
> Claire
> Sent: Thursday, December 20, 2007 10:59 AM
> To: histonet@lists.utsouthwestern.edu
> Subject: [Histonet] Off Topic: NO SANTA CLAUS
>
>
> Sorry if you are not Christian. You can delete, but I think Santa just
> has lots of different names around the world. Everyone - remember what
> you have that never cost anything. Merry Christmas greetings and warm
> wishes to all.
>
> Claire Ingles
> lifelong Santa's helper
>
>
>
> 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 worl d-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 its 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 for 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, and he didn't have a 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," I replied shyly. "It's
> ... for Bobby."
>
> The nice lady smiled at me. I
> didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag 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 a tag-- 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 Gr andma gave me a nudge. "All right,
> Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going."
> I took a deep breath, dashed for
> his front door, and threw the present down on his step. I pounded his
> door 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
> tag tucked inside: $19.95.
>
>
> --------------------------------------------------------------------
> He who has no Christmas in his
> heart will never find Christmas under a tree.
>
> Have a wonderful holiday season.
> Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!!
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
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