As you can see, I had a very formal relationship with Santa.No laps for me. A simple solemn
pose would do, thank you, for the photo-op.
Formal attire was also worn when visiting Santa’s Village up in New Hampshire. A sports
jacket was de rigeur for the feeding of reindeer but one was allowed to be more casual
when posing with the sled and full team. The girls are my cousin Terry and my sister Cheryl.
Actually, I think we might have been there on a Sunday. We’d have attended Mass in Berlin,
NH and probably continued on home to Boston with a stop to visit the Village along the way.
But by the time those pictures were taken, I’d fallen from grace.
I no longer believed in Santa Claus.
I’m not sure how I figured it out but I do know I must have been around six or seven years
old because we were still living in Malden in the two family house that my folks and my
aunt and uncle co-owned. I know this because when I found out there was no Santa Claus,
I shared my knowledge and I heard about it for years afterward.
Yes, I told my cousins who lived downstairs. I think that was theyear I got a lump of coal in
my stocking (but there were still presents under the tree).
I may have told my sister the awful truth later or she found out some other way. I do know
I didn’t tell my kid brother. After all, I was an adult of 17 by then and I had a greater appreciation
for what Santa meant to little kids!
But there it is.
I squealed on Santa.
Originally published in Dec. 2007.
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