CHRISTMAS EVE  falls on Thursday this year.  
I was snuggled in bed with my sister Kathyrn on the eve of Christmas, 1936. I was five and my sister was eight. I wanted to get to sleep quickly but my sister had other plans. She nudged me, saying,  “There is no such person as Santa Claus.”
She couldn’t have shock me more if she’d told me turkeys could fly.  “You’re wrong,” I said.  “When we went to the city I saw him.  He was standing on the corner ringing a bell. He had on a red suit trimmed in white fur.   He even gave me a tiny candy cane.”
Ever time I got close to going to “bye bye” land my sister would poke me in my ribs.  She was determined to stay awake and was hell bent on me joining her.
She whispered,”Mama just asked the boys to get a flashlight and to go with her to the tobacco barn.  When they leave I’m going to get up and follow them.”
I bolted upright and yelled, “Mama! Kathryn won’t let me go to sleep.”
Mama, who had a tummy that shook like a bowl full of jelly,  came bouncing into the room. “If you two don’t go to sleep Santa Claus will fly right over house and leave no toys.”
That’s when I moved to the foot of the bed, curled up in a knot, and fell sound asleep.
Dawn had not fully shown its face when I woke and raced to the living room.  Santa had come!
I stuffed a big jawbreaker in my mouth and ran through the house waking everyone.   
I got  paper dolls, ball and jacks, pick up sticks, a chalk board, and a doll.
Did I believe in Santa? You bet your booties I did.

This incident happened a little shy of 80 years ago.  But somehow every Christmas that’s where I return.

Do I still believe in Santa?  This year with his helper Alan he brought me a deluxe I Phone six plus from Mac. You bet your booties I do!