Why I Still Believe in Santa

Our next Christmas story comes from Sarah, who hails from all things PR and communications here at Saddleback. She has a doberman called Magnum.

 

Photo by Markus Spiske

 

Christmas at our house was much more low-key than other homes.

My parents were from a generation that lived through the Great Depression and WWII. They weren’t into a lot of frivolous gifts and mainly gave us what we needed. My dad’s “hobby” was going to state auctions and buying bizarre things and then reselling them. He thought it was great fun to buy a typewriter for $15 and sell it for $25. Sometimes it was janitorial supplies, electronics, and one year it was all the supplies from a fabric store. There was also a jewelry store had been foreclosed on and Dad was going to re-sell the goods he bought from that for a profit. I didn’t know he had reserved a ring for me though, which was definitely the most extravagant Christmas gift I ever received.

Every year during Christmas time, the weather man would say on the 6 o’clock news that a sleigh was spotted on the radar, and they had been tracking it. Even as a kid I knew better, but was humored that everyone played this game. My parents would tell us to go get in the car and drive around to see if we could spot it. When we came back there were all the presents set out under the tree – happened every year exactly the same. I remember one year my grandmother leaning over and whispering “Just play along with it. That’s what I do. I’m afraid I won’t get many gifts if I don’t.”

I still do.

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