Meeting the "Real Santa" and Other News - Personal Post

   First off, if you came here to read a story follow the link below.  A Christmas story was accepted by the local newspaper for their "I Know A Story" column.  (Actually, it's a true story for once.)

                                            The link is broken so I've opted to reprint the story here.

The Little Red Santa House

      Growing up in Lancaster, there were two things which heralded the Christmas season; the trees

on the Watt and Shand building downtown, and the appearance of the little red Santa house at the

Lancaster Shopping Center.

      One particular year, I stood on that cusp of disbelief which comes to every child. There were

rumors circulating that Santa wasn't real, that parents bought the gifts, and that the “naughty or

nice" list was a ploy to get us to behave. I desperately wanted to believe, especially since I held out 

hope that Santa would deliver a much-longed-for pony one of these years. So I was quite torn when I

entered the red house and climbed up on Santa's lap.

      “Merrrrry Christmas Lisa! You've been in some trouble lately, haven't you?”

      I was absolutely floored. Obviously this was the real Santa; how else would he know my name

and my criminal record? There would be no pony this year, and as that particular dream

flew out the window I racked my brain trying to figure out which dastardly deed he was referring to.

Tearing down the clothesline by playing Tarzan and swinging on it? Secretly sweeping my sister's

room for contraband? Eating the candy canes off of the tree?

      In spite of my horror, I felt excitement as well. Santa was real, and there was still time to

be a good girl and try to win back Santa's approval. I vowed to not do a single thing wrong until

Christmas. I accepted a candy cane and ran over to Mom to tell her the good news, while Dad had a

word with Santa.

      So I was a believer for another year, and even after that I wondered how a man dressed as Santa

knew my personal information. As you may have guessed, my parents told me later that Dad knew

“Santa” from work.

      Of course there never was a pony, but there was a chemistry set (a gift that my parents would

soon regret) and a Black Stallion book signed by the Black Stallion himself and author Walter Farley.

     One day I would meet Mr. Farley, but that's another story.

      Eventually I had a son, and I took him to the Santa house as well. The Lancaster Shopping

Center has undergone dramatic changes over the years, but as I drive by today I can still visualize the

way it was, with the magical little house that meant Christmas.

 

   In other news (if you haven't read the previous post) I've decided to expand what originated as a steampunk flash into a novelette or even a novel.  I've got 10 chapters, 12000 words total so far as a rough draft.  I have to admit, I'm having more fun researching than actually writing.  I'm also combating the usual tendency to edit and perfect as I go, without much luck. I am getting better at just leaping over problem areas and continuing the story line.  I can always go back and rewrite sections later.
    Hope everyone else's writing is going well and that you are all ready for the holidays.  It's snowing here, and quite cozy with the Christmas lights and all.
    Until next time....