Did I believe in Santa as a kid?

Nope.

My family wasn’t big on Santa- and it might not be for the reasons you think.

My Dad’s family and my Mom’s family had one thing in common- they were great storytellers. They’d tell stories about ghosts and people being buried alive at Baby Showers, Birthdays and Thanksgiving.

Christmas and New Years? Even better- there were stories galore about devils, demons and weird things that they found in attics, graveyards and basements.

When it came to Santa they drew a big fat goose egg.

I never heard stories about Santa and the North Pole. As far as I knew he was someone you took your picture with at Christmas ,you could tell him what you wanted for Christmas and then  he gave you a candy cane.

I had heard if you were extra good, he’d bring you the present you asked for.

I asked for a dog.

A real dog- with wings.

I was just testing.

I figure if I got the dog with wings Santa was real.

If not, the entire thing was baloney.

Turned out to be baloney.

Personally I think Santa wasn’t the most interesting story to tell- so my family really didn’t go into that part of the Christmas experience.

On the other hand, none of us went out of our way to wreck anyone else’s Christmas fun. Like I said they loved to tell stories and if the story you loved was one about Santa, that was ok. We could go along with that. Christmas fun is Christmas fun.

My Christmas fun involved a story Ghost Train that went up and down the streets on Christmas Eve- the Ghost Train and The Ghost People on board would take you away if they caught you outside alone.

So it was best to stay inside with your family on Christmas Eve.

The terrible part was year after year  your family would leave a stocking for you by the fireplace and some presents- all of which would be gone on Christmas morning.

In its place?

A single bone.

Eventually they’d have enough bones to put together a skeleton and one day you’d get a grave.

But at least your bones would be on that Ghost Train anymore.

Yeah.

That’s the kind of Christmas story I heard.

Poor old Santa.

He was a good story, but had he been riding on a ghost train full of human bones in search of a grave?

He would have been a great story,

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