It's nice to be nice!

Here is another photo of Bea on the New Hill Railroad's Santa Train.As you can see by the look on Bea's face, she is blissed out. My daughter Amy, Bea's mother, also went on a Santa train up in Connecticut when she was about the same age. (She's probably remembering that as this photo is being taken, because she looks blissed out, as well.) I will always remember that when the bell-ringing Santa on the Connecticut train asked my little Amy what she wanted for Christmas, Amy replied shyly, "I want to ring your bell." And so he let her ring the bell and she was very happy.

The Santa in the current photo is a very good representative of the Santa clan. He has the requisite twinkly blue eyes and a lush beard and mustache. It's hard to know whether Bea is into believing that he's the real Santa. We haven't emphasized Santa and getting presents. When I asked Bea a few weeks ago what she was going to do for Christmas, she exclaimed, "We're going to get a big Christmas tree that goes all the way up to the ceiling." Clearly, that was what Christmas meant to her--helping to decorate the tree. I'm glad she thinks that way. She'll never be disappointed if she doesn't get sucked into the commercial side of Christmas.

When I was a small child, I didn't see a lot of Santas. I think having Santas was not very popular in the society of the 40s. The Depression, with all its miseries and woes, was too recent. My father told stories of bleak Christmases past that would wring tears from a stone. He got one orange a year--always at Christmas--and he would eat the whole thing, rind and seed included. I always felt terrible about that, every time he told that story.

What I remember best about Santa from my own childhood was my grandfather, Papaw Williams, telling me to look out the window, quick! because he had just seen Santa peeking in to see if I was being good. I would race to the window and look all around, but I never caught a glimpse of Santa. However, I never doubted that he was out there, because I believed my Papaw's every word. And still, every December, I try to be nice -- just in case Santa's watching. I'm sure I passed that on to Amy, and she'll pass it to Bea. Be nice!