The Sample List from 1992

Zohall Rouhani
I was a pretty humble and selfless kid…I never asked for much from my parents. My fondest memory of Christmas is sitting on Santa’s lap about fifteen years ago with my short list of the following:
Polly Pocket
My Little Pony
Care Bears
Baby Alive
Glow Worm
Teddy Rupskin
American Girl Doll
Easy Bake Oven
Ninja Turtle Action Figures
Nerf Guns
Radio Controlled Race Cars
Barbies!
Star light
A subscription to Tiger Beat
And… lastly, but what I wanted most from Santa was the New Kids on the Block blanket, pillow case and posters.

Santa is BigFoot -- scaring the bejesus out of...

First off, Santa is real, but not in any way you would imagine.His is not a pretty story; in fact, it is sad. Phantom of the Opera, The Hunchback of Notre Dame and Beauty & the Beast come to mind. The untold real story behind Santa Claus is that he is really bigfoot; that explains why no one has ever seen him on Xmas eve and how he has so eluded everyone all these millenia by such inhuman stealth and animal cunning..Pull away his fake beard and silly red hat, and children will be exposed to the most hideous half human / half gorilla countenance they can only imagine in their worst nightmare!The "gifts" that he (it) brings are his creaturely way of apologizing for scaring the be-Jesus out of everyone he encounters in the woods as he forages about for god knows what?! ...toilet paper (hung, curled the "right way"!) Its a very sad story -- (anon)

Let's Just "Trap" Santa

Albert Oliver
Through out our early years, my sister and I developed a routine – she’d wake up first (maybe around 2 or 3 AM), get me up, and we’d go downstairs to examine and play with the booty brought by Santa. We’d then go back to bed, and wake up (again) at a more suitable time, to “officially” greet the tree and Mom and Dad.

But, there finally came a time when both my sister and I were starting to doubt Santa’s existence. For even though our row house had a chimney, it only went down to the furnace – hardly a suitable way for Santa to get in to the house. We were also starting to be quite skeptical about the idea of Santa’s “magic” too. Fortunately, we hadn’t yet discovered any of the hiding places for gifts in the house. So, one Christmas eve we decided to set “traps” for Santa Cookies, Milk and Potato Chips were determined to be the most suitable.
It wasn’t even snowing that Christmas, so we were even more skeptical that he would ever appear. We tried to stay up, but finally went to sleep. Sometime in the middle of the night, we heard noise on our roof, and bells tinkling. I’m not sure which one of us heard it first, but we both got up, and ran downstairs to the tree. There was everything! The cookies, milk, and potato chips were eaten! And our parents were in bed!

We never did find out about the noises, although I suspect it was a neighbor playing Santa for the neighborhood. But at the time, Santa was as real as we still wanted him to be.

Hannukah AND Christmas: loads-o-gifts

Betsy Fried
Growing up in a family that does both Hannukah and Christmas means that everyone is going crazy during the holiday times. I'm not sure how my parents ever survived the eight nights of gifts and trying not to burn down the house with the menorah, followed by my sister and I hardly sleeping and waking them up at the crack of dawn on Christmas. Therefore, I really only have the traditional Santa memories of leaving him cookies (and celery for the reindeer) and getting a note from him on Christmas morning.

Okay, so maybe that part isn't so important, but it leads up to this, my favorite Santa memory...

I've recently discovered that a person I know, who shall remain nameless, dresses up as Santa Claus each and every year, and goes to visit the kids in his neighborhood. The parents of the children e-mail him information on what the children have been up to, and when "Santa" starts asking about the ongoings of their lives, their faces light up so very much. I really feel that this embodies the true spirit of Christmas, the altruism of giving without needing to receive, and therefore it's my favorite Santa memory!

Superman Toy

Brett Leonhardt

Hiding Under the Bed Again

Di Ann Vondrachek
First of all, you have to know I was a BIG believer. I believed until I was in fourth grade when one of my classmates gave me the sad truth. Needless to say I was sure she was lying and I went home crying to my Mom. Also, even though I was a big believer, I was very afraid of the big guy and that is what my story is about.

Every year like all the other children I would get so excited for Christmas Eve. The year I was in second grade, my parents went to great expense to hire a Santa to come and bring our presents. After all, as excited as I was about his coming, wouldn't it be great to get some pictures of Di Ann and her little sister and Santa. Well, the minute I heard the ho ho ho I ran and hid under my parent's bed. So, the only picture we have of Santa and Di Ann that year is of Santa trying to pull Di Ann out from under the bed....


I am still a great believer and hope you are too. Just not afraid any more.

It's Hitting the Fan...

Jim G contributed this one

A Christmas TraditionOne particular Christmas season a long time ago, Santa was getting ready for his annual trip ... but there were problems everywhere. Four of his elves got sick, and the trainee elves did not produce the toys as fast as the regular ones so Santa was beginning to feel the pressure of being behind schedule. Then Mrs. Claus told Santa that her mom was coming to visit. This stressed Santa even more. When he went to harness the reindeer, he found that three of them were about to give birth and two had jumped the fence and were out, heaven knows where. More stress.

Then when he began to load the sleigh one of the boards cracked and the toy bag fell to the ground and scattered the toys. So, frustrated, Santa went into the house for a cup of coffee and a shot of whiskey. When he went to the cupboard, he discovered that the elves had hid the liquor and there was nothing to drink. In his frustration, he accidentally dropped the coffee pot and it broke into hundreds of little pieces all over the kitchen floor. He went to get the broom and found that mice had eaten the straw it was made from. Just then the doorbell rang and Santa cussed on his way to the door. He opened the door and there was a little angel with a great big Christmas tree. The angel said, very cheerfully, "Merry Christmas Santa. Isn't it just a lovely day? I have a beautiful tree for you. Isn't it just a lovely tree? Where would you like me to stick it?" Thus began the tradition of the little angel on top of the Christmas tree.

But the Chimney is Too Dirty

David Mc Adams

Something told me that I should go along with the story.

I wasn’t sure why they had made up this half-baked tale but they were clearly committed to it. I mean, from as early as I can remember I couldn’t see why Santa would try to park on the roof and shimmy down our chimney to get into the house. After all, the chimney was dirty and narrow and we had several good doors on the house that he could use if he wanted to.

I was pretty sure that my older sisters were in cahoots with Mom and Dad on this one. Everybody was in on the game so I went along with it.

But the winter that I was 4 the story started to unravel. We had planned to leave before dawn on Christmas morning to drive to my Grandmothers house, so Santa was going to have to come early. Special arrangements had been made for early delivery and on the eve of Christmas after supper we were sent up to our bedrooms to pretend to sleep so that Santa could come.

Pressing my ear up to my closed bedroom door I heard shuffling in the living room downstairs and then a hearty Ho, Ho, Ho. It was Dad. I was sure. And to confirm it was a giggle from my Mom.

A few minutes later we emerged to find the cookies and milk in disarray, and a fresh set of gifts presented around the tree. We opened our packages that night and though I knew better, I kept the faith along with Mom, Dad, and my sisters.

As far as I know, they still think I believe.