It’s Alright, Santa
“You just stand, here,” she said. “They’ll tell you when it’s your turn.”
continued...
There were no second thoughts or trepidation as a third real
elf indicated that I should enter the window and follow the winding , tinseled
path to Santa’s throne.
“Ho! Ho! Ho! Hello little girl,” he repeated, lifting me
onto his knee, “and what is your name?”
Grandma had been right. He had needed me to write my name on
the letter.
“I’m Amy” I said, proudly. “I wrote the letter.”
“Ah, yes, of course.
You’re the little girl who wrote me that lovely letter.”
I beamed.
He adjusted me slightly, turning so that the photographer
elf could get the perfect Christmas picture.
“Click,” went the camera and Santa, looking me squarely in
the eye, said, “and what would you like for Christmas, Amy?”
Aghast, I said, “you know what I want. I wrote you the letter.”
‘Oh yes, so you did – the letter. I think it was a Toni Doll”.
“No!” I wrinkled my brow.
My grandma often talked about her failing memory and so, compassionately
I suggested, “Let me give you hint. You
can build things with it.”
“Ah, yes.” He thought carefully. “It was the Junior
Lineman’s Toolbelt. But for a little
girl?” he added.
The selection of toys in post war, 1946, was very limited
and, like today, certain things were the undeniable favourites.
“Right! The belt like
my Dad’s.”
He nodded. “There was something else?”
I am sure that he hoped that there was not but knew, for
certain, that there would be. “Can you give me another hint?”
Hmm, I assessed the situation. This is not going the way I thought it would.
“Well, something with wheels to push on the floor,” I said
aloud.
“Push on the floor, hmm.
Oh, I remember, a Bubble Car.”
This was another 1946 toy of choice.
“Right! I said,
again. But now you’re on your own.”
Stay tuned as Amy and Santa entertain the crowd outside of Woodward's department store....
Copyright © 2013, Robyn Gerland
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