I was a believer - my parents got a real kick every Christmas, perpetuating the lie. I'm not complaining. I look back with fond memories and in awe at how they pulled it off for quite a few years. Even after I found out, I was complacent in the whole charade because I wanted to live it again, through my younger Sister who was 5 years younger than me.
My folks were young and not at all religious - they were going through that season of life of being a young married with a child - having their friends over - dancing in the living room to American Bandstand.
I was five in this photo - I still believed but was beginning to have my doubts. I remember thinking about it in my bedroom - and wondering. It just didn't make sense, the whole Santa thing. Mom always had a nativity, and she would tell me about it, but I couldn't figure out how Santa and the Baby Jesus came together. It didn't jive.
My baby sister was under a year old by this time. My parents now 24 and 26 were starting to settle down. Dad had started a business - Mom was a "Housewife" and they bought their first house a year later.
By the 3rd grade, I knew. I think I was embarrassed in this photo. I was doing it for the sake of my little sister who was at that perfect age of believing in Santa.
I don't know how this tradition started. I don't know if it was just rebellion against any formalize religious thing or what. We opened our gifts on Christmas Eve - never Christmas Day. My folks slept in on Christmas day while my sister and I played with our new toys.
How the Christmas Eve tradition began.
My dad's childhood home
My Dad would come home from work, with a big bag of tangerines and walnuts - a tradition from his childhood in Tennessee.
His Papa (my Grandpa) was a coal miner and worked hard to support 9 children. With the exception of Grandma baking or sewing little gifts, like new handkerchiefs and pillowcases for the girls, embroidering or tatting the edges - and sewing new shirts for the boys, they never knew what it was to have store-bought gifts but those tangerines and nuts tasted so good. Papa would walk through the door, his face blackened by the coal and soot - while kids were jumping on him. A fond memory for my Dad that often resulted in a tear.
They may have been "hillbillies" but they had a good simple life. My dad is the guy with his arms around 2 cousins. His brother and younger sister are in the back and to the side.
On Christmas Day, Grandma took the children to church - She was a Methodist. Grandpa always stayed home. Grandma is sitting under the gal holding the child. Grandpa is on the left. Photo taken in the 1950's - Grandpa died in the 1970's of black lung disease.
By the time they got back, it was time to eat their noon meal which they called dinner. It was a huge meal. It was crazy. They called the evening meal "supper." and never used the word "lunch." I used to get confused as a child with all that.
They were a passionate family. They loved one minute and the next minute the sisters were fighting. 6 girls and 3 boys and dad was the 2nd youngest.
And that's when the aunts and the uncles, and the cousins by the dozens came.
My Hillbilly family
The Tradition Continued...
I'm the tomboy, wearing the dark overalls between my 2 cousins.
When I was a child we always went out and looked at the lights - so while we were all in the Impala, Mom would announce that she had forgotten to turn off the coffee pot or some other lame excuse. She'd rush in, get the presents that were from Santa, and lay them all out so that when we returned and came through the door, Santa had already arrived. We had gifts from Santa and gifts from our parents.
It was magical
One year I remember, my sister and I were in the tub, and Dad (Santa) was getting restless so that year they changed it up -
Santa rang the doorbell and asked
"Does Debby and Donna live here" -
(we had no fireplace) and then in a flash, he and his elves placed all the gifts around and left - and my sister and I heard his bells. To this day, I remember hearing the jingling of bells. I remember my mom pretending to look for the camera that she never found.
You never saw 2 kids, get out of a bathtub so fast - naked and soaking wet - trying to catch a glimpse of Santa.
One year my sister noticed a big mistake - Mom had always used whimsical giftwrap - that were the gifts from Santa. She must have run out of paper with one gift and my sister noticed it and asked about it. That was the beginning of the end for my sister although she admitted to me, a year later that she no longer believed but didn't want to ruin mom and dad's fun. I know I was sad about it, but convinced her to tell them. Fortunately, it was in January so my folks had that year to grieve.
My sister, me (8th grade), and my Mom That was the year I got a guitar.
By now my sister in 4th grade hadn't believed in a few years. Notice the Nativity on the TV? I still have it.
Our little dachshund, Heidi.
Times have changed, haven't they? I read that only 25% of children in New York believe in Santa and most Oregonians cease to believe in Santa Claus at the age of 5 or 6.
It makes no difference to me one way or the other - I had my fun. The main thing REALLY is, do they know the REAL Christmas Story?
I just pray that the children today will be able to find Baby Jesus, in their hearts.
