I was 10 years old, and my sister Megan was seven, when our youngest sister Caitlin was born.
This means Santa came to our house a lot longer than he came to my friends' houses.
In the late '80s, ol' St. Nick re-upped for another 12 years or so.
The whole time growing up, my thoughts on and beliefs around Santa were quite practical.
Absolutely I was sold on holiday spirit, and all the gifting/gathering/homemade peanut-butter buckeyes that came along with it.
I took quite seriously the outfit I would wear when we had our annual picture snapped with the big guy.*
And I very definitely honored the strict bedtime that was enforced on Christmas Eve.
But I also marveled at the fact that Mom and Santa had the same handwriting,
and John Mellencamp and The Jackson 5 both caught their moms kissing him.
I never had any kind of epiphanal moment about Santa, but I did understand the *magic* of it all.
I knew for sure that understanding the magic translated into keeping it alive for my sisters and everyone else around me.
Sometime in 1987, Dad had installed into his car the first car phone our family ever had. It was, unequivocally, the coolest thing in the world to all of us. The first month he had it, we called him every five minutes we knew he was driving -- on his way to work, on his way home from work, back and forth to the grocery...
Then that first bill came, at which point we basically stopped using the car phone. At that point, the car phone was for emergencies and Dad's business only.
Until one mid-December night in 1987. Our little family of five was all dolled up, heading to Shillito's in downtown Cincinnati to have our Christmas photo taken with the "real" Santa.
Dad was driving, Mom was beside him up front, and shoe-horned into the back were me and Megan, Caitlin in her car seat between us.
Taking in every bit of twinkle outside, we moved slowly through the streets of the city.
And then,
all of a sudden,
the car phone rang.
After work hours, and in the absence of an emergency, it was a big surprise to all of us.
Dad answered the ring on speakerphone,
and,
in an instant,
the biggest voice I'd ever heard filled that Sedan DeVille.
It was Santa.
He was calling to talk to Megan, but he knew e.ver.y.thing about her sisters too.
He didn't indulge in any superfluous ho-ho-ho-ing;
in fact, Santa knew that we were en route to see him and he wanted to talk turkey before we arrived.
A W E S O M E.
I can't remember any other specifics of that night, but I can say that my tummy is tight even as I write about it today.
That was the moment the magic hit me right in the face.
That is the very moment I myself re-upped on Santa.
Magic is THE BEST.
LoveLoveLove,
*Probably my sharpest outfit was the red suit I wore in fifth grade. Crisp shorts and a cropped jacket, with shoulder pads and big gold buttons down the front. Opaque white tights and my faux-crocodile lace-up Oxfords. Fa-la-la-la fashion, baby.
**Did you see that we have our own social-media homes now?
IG: @letmetellyouthisgoodnews
FB: Let Me Tell You THIS
Follow along and invite your people; this kind of connection is the highest use of technology.
