I wrote a blog entry about "Christmas in the Trenches" but I'm not in an "earnest" mood. So:
I believed in Santa until I was 12, long after the other kids cynically huffed on their cigarettes and laughed mirthlessly at the bitter revelation.
My belief was mostly predicated on the fact that on Christmas Eve, when I was 5, I awoke late at night and, beside myself with excitement, I looked out my bedroom window. I swear, I saw him in the sky, just like in the poem.
It is not clear if I had drunk from the wrong punch bowl that evening, or if Mom had perhaps dropped some acid while I was in the womb. Maybe I was having a "rite of passage" vision, like the Iroquois. I don't know, but I saw him...
And to be honest, I'm still not convinced it's a scam. Though from the excerpt below I wonder if he uses cocaine.
Excerpteth:
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."
I'm outta here... The next dispatch will be from The Island. Have a peaceful holiday, everyone.
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