May the wonder and magic of the holiday season be yours!
One word often describes the holiday season: magic. Even though most of us find ourselves running fast in an effort to keep up with the increased activities, entertainments, and events we want to believe in magic. Maybe it dates back to our childhoods when the sparkle of Christmas lights strung on the tree or the appearance of Santa Claus made magic come alive.
One word often describes the holiday season: magic. Even though most of us find ourselves running fast in an effort to keep up with the increased activities, entertainments, and events we want to believe in magic. Maybe it dates back to our childhoods when the sparkle of Christmas lights strung on the tree or the appearance of Santa Claus made magic come alive.
I suppose most American kids believe in Santa at one point in their life although I’ve known a few parents who wouldn’t let the legend live for their broods. My own belief in the jolly old elf exceeded the basic expectations but then I have a very good reason for that – Santa Claus is my uncle.
The family connection provided me with extra leverage with my own kids when they were small because hey, if Saint Nick happens to be Mommy’s uncle, they realized toeing the behavior line (or at least making an effort) might be important.
My Uncle Bill Puett put aside his everyday life as a delivery route man for Just-Rite Dairy in my hometown of St. Joseph, Missouri each December. Since he happened to be a large man year round, he fit the physical description to perfection and his demeanor happened to be both cheerful and giving. He started out playing Santa for some dairy promotions back in the day when Just-Rite featured special ice cream novelties for the holidays. Their individual serving size Christmas trees, Santa faces, and big ice cream cakes were a hit in northern Missouri and Uncle Bill promoted them well.
He enjoyed the role so much he bought his own Santa Claus suit and before long, he filled those black boots like the real deal. I bought into the entire Santa thing with a whole heart as a young child. Why wouldn’t I when on a routine trip to a local supermarket Santa Claus himself approached me and called me by name? Or how about the Christmas Eve evening visit from my Aunt Janet who just happened to run across Santa Claus out on the walk and invite him to come in with her?
During the ordinary season of the year, my uncle and aunt showered me with gifts for no occasion at all. I still have a huge stuffed blue dog – which my cousin actually delivered to me from my late grandmother’s attic this past summer – larger than I was at the time. They bought me my first bikini when I was about four, binoculars to rival those of any bird watcher, and so much more. With such a giving heart, Uncle Bill brought Santa to life so well I couldn’t tell the difference.
During the ordinary season of the year, my uncle and aunt showered me with gifts for no occasion at all. I still have a huge stuffed blue dog – which my cousin actually delivered to me from my late grandmother’s attic this past summer – larger than I was at the time. They bought me my first bikini when I was about four, binoculars to rival those of any bird watcher, and so much more. With such a giving heart, Uncle Bill brought Santa to life so well I couldn’t tell the difference.
That wasn’t the case for other would-be Santa figures. At the local discount department store in downtown St. Joseph, Missouri, my Granny’s neighbor played Santa but he was too skinny and too sour. Besides, when my Granny would say, “This is him, Lee Ann, the real Santa Claus so tell him what you want for Christmas” but above my head greet him with “Hello, Faye, how’s the Missus? Tell her I said ‘hello’, it diminished the plausibility. At an early age I decided most of those store Santa Claus guys and the ones who rang bells for donations on street corners must be the real Santa’s helpers but the Santa Claus who knew my name, at home and out in public, well he was real.
After my uncle and aunt produced their children, Aunt Janet even offered up photographic evidence – pictures of Santa placing packages beneath their tree. So I grew up believing in Santa, hanging onto the mystery and magic a little longer than most kids probably do. And even when I learned the story of Santa Claus embodies the spirit of love and giving, I still believed in the magic if not the man.
Believing in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary is an important factor in my recent Christmas release from Rebel Ink Press. In Sing We Now of Christmas, my heroine is a young bride whose beloved husband fails to return from a Fourth of July fishing trip and is presumed dead. She doesn’t buy it and so she waits with hope in her heart for Christmas, the season when they first met for a miracle. If I hadn’t believed in Santa, then maybe I couldn’t believe in hope either.
Hope and magic are what make the Christmas season special. Both are reflected in the lovely lights, the holiday displays, the Christmas carols, and the candles left in the window to light the way for a lonely traveler. Long before Christians chose the winter solstice to mark the birth of Christ, the human animal celebrated hope, light, joy, and magic each year at this time.
Readers who want to find a new Christmas novel offering up all of the above will enjoy my first ever Christmas release, Sing We Now of Christmas from Rebel Ink Press now available at online retailers including All Romance Ebooks, Bookstrand, Coffee Time Romance, Barnes and Noble, and Amazon.com.
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