Hey Amy!

Merry Christmas! Every year at Christmas I recall a lot of fond memories like most of you. I think of our gorgeous town square with the tree in the center of the intersection. I think of Christmas Eve at Nany & Pappy’s house and begging Mom to let Garnet and I open a gift while the adults went to candlelight service. I recall Dad setting up the platform for the tree with the train running through the various areas of the town–the church, the ice skating pond, the railroad crossing with cars and lights that actually worked. He really put a lot of work into it.

But the story that always has the strongest memories for me is the story of Santa Claus. Not just any Santa but my Santa. He sat in the same square as the tree in what resembled an out house now that I am a grown woman. It was painted red with white trim and sat next to the First National Bank. I never thought about it as a child but that small house had no heat! Santa sat in there all night from 5–9P waiting for kids to come sit on his lap and tell him what we wanted for Christmas. He was a great Santa. He listened and laughed and hoisted you right up on his lap. He looked into your eyes and listened. He really listened. I remember his beard was so white and fluffy. His eyes so clear. He always ended with “Amy, have you been a good girl?” I was shocked and overjoyed he knew my name and remembered each year. I will never forget those eyes.

Years later, when I was a teenager, my mother asked me to drop off Christmas cookies for a family friend who was dying. Mom didn’t say he was. She said he was sick but I knew he was dying when he answered the door and appeared very very frail and thin. I was sad. My father had been friends with him for years. They served together in the volunteer fire department. I told him who I was through the barely opened door as I had not seen him for a couple of years and I had grown up a good bit since the last time he had seen me. He then took off the chain and allowed the door to open. As I stepped towards him to hand him the package of cookies, I looked up in those eyes. Those Santa Claus eyes and was immediately taken back to my childhood. Here I was standing before Santa. The man I believed was responsible for Lazy Daisy, the Sunshine Family, and Mrs. Beasley. I remembered how he smelled. How he gave me a lollipop after I told him what I wanted for Christmas. How he made me feel so important and special every year he would pull me to his lap.

I didn’t know what to say to him. I was shocked, saddened and very awkward. I was a teenager. That was 29 years ago and to this day, a Christmas does not pass without me remembering the day I discovered Mr.Luckett was Santa as well as recalling all the wonderful memories he gave me while being Santa.

Merry Christmas Santa Claus.

xo–me

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