I’ve been waiting all year to share this story from Gary who has submitted at least one other story before. So in the spirit of One-Legged Barbies, I give you, “There’s No Such Thing As Santa”.

This is the story of the day I found out there is no such thing as Santa and the story of how I got my very first Lionel train set.

I was seven years old and the last of eight kids.  Dad was forty-seven and tired.  We had just finished shopping at Kroger’s. I loaded the groceries in the trunk. Dad asked me to meet him in the Wal-Marts next door.  I wasn’t really sure what business we had at Wal-Marts, but I was happy to be there.  They had a sizable toy department. Inside I was trying to steer Dad to afore-mentioned toy department when he stopped.  This happened occasionally as he would get winded and needed to take a break.  And then he said it.  In the middle of Aisle 8, in between the greeting cards and the plastic Poinsettia arrangements, I found out.  Dad said, “There’s no such thing as Santa.” He continued, “Here’s $20, go buy yourself something.  But you can’t play with it yet – you have to wrap it put it under the tree.”

It hit me like a 50 lb sack of dog food that was on special in Aisle 5.  I took the money and headed in the direction of the toy department.  A myriad of emotions surged through me.  1. I’ve got twenty dollars in my hand to spend on whatever I want. 2. I’m in Wal-Marts all by myself.  3. No such thing as Santa?! Karen Crader lied to me -that little ***** (At seven, I only knew one cussword and it was in German.)  The aisles seem to close in on me like a fun-house. I began to bounce off people like a crazed pinball.  Years later, I would realize this was my first panic attack. I ricocheted off the motor oil, got tangled in the neck ties, turned a corner and there it was – a Lionel train set. Three cars, a caboose, and real light on the engine that lit up the track as it went round a 26″ diameter circle.  The track was only slightly larger than a Jumbo pizza, but it was still cool. A pronounced light flickered on the train as if to suggest that God wanted me to take it home.  Turns out it was just a fluorescent bulb that was getting ready to burn out.  The box was as big as I was, but I managed to get it off the shelf and carry to the register.  It rang up as $22.32. Luckily, Dad was resting up near the register eating a bag of burnt peanuts.  He flipped me another 5 spot.  He had a good year and was happy to do it.   Sometimes it pays to be the youngest.

As I wrapped my gift, I taped a tag on the outside of the package that read “Do not open until Christmas” It seemed kind of pointless since I knew what it was.  I was hoping I would forget, but since this whole scene took place on Christmas Eve about 4:30 pm, I knew it wasn’t likely.

Well, that’s my Christmas story.  If that doesn’t give you a warm fuzzy feeling, then I can’t help you.

Thanks Gary!

How did you learn there was no Santa?