"Ho Ho Ho"

Note: The author of this editorial would like to alert readers that this is for parents only. It should not be read by or to little ones.

My mind was made up. Being a mature second grader, I decided that I no longer believed in Santa Claus. The conversations amongst my classmates in the cafeteria had swayed me and I had finally given in to rational thought. There was simply no way Santa Claus could be both at J.C. Penney’s AND Mason’s department store at the same time!

There would be no more cookies and milk left on the kitchen table for future Christmas Eves, I reasoned with my mother, because Santa was “just pretend.” As we prepared to go Christmas shopping on that chilly December morning, Mother just listened quietly to my announcement, yet offered no information about how the milk and cookies left for Santa on our kitchen table in the past had mysteriously disappeared overnight on Christma as Eves past.

When we arrived at the entrance to Mason’s in Altoona, Mother remarked that she doubted I’d be stopping to sit on Santa’s lap this year, given my disbelief. I shook my head in silent agreement. We entered the store and I, with my nose in the air and eyes averted, proceeded to make a beeline past the Santa station. I was headed toward the toy section at the back of the store. My plan – to scope out possible toys to add to my already lengthy Christmas list which I would give to my parents and relatives. I didn’t even glance Santa’s way.

As I crossed the aisle in front of him, a deep, booming voice rang out across the store. “HO, HO HO! THERE’S GEORGIE DEMPSIE FROM WILLIAMSBURG!” Eyes widened in astonished disbelief, I looked over to see this Santa on his throne, pointing in my direction.

Oh, Good Grief – my friends were wrong and had led me astray! Santa Claus WAS real! He knew my name and where I lived!!! Suddenly I found myself on his lap where I proceeded to verbally unload the long toy list I’d quickly compiled in my mind.

With a contrite heart, all the way home, I confessed to my mother that in the past I had gone astray but now I was set on the right path again. Santa WAS real— and I had the proof which I was fully prepared to share with my classmates on Monday morning. What better proof did I need than this— he’d recognized and called me out as I’d arrogantly walked in front of him that morning.

My “Santa encounter” at Mason’s set my disbelief back at least three years longer. It wasn’t until many years later that I learned the truth… At a dinner party, a woman from our town mentioned that many years ago, her father had a seasonal job at Mason’s – as Santa Claus!