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OT - Santa & Grandma



 
 
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  #1  
Old December 24th 03, 03:03 AM
LN \(remove NOSPAM\)
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Default OT - Santa & Grandma

I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was just a kid. I
remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big
sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she jeered. "Even
dummies know that!"

My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day
because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told
the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier
when swallowed with one of her "world-famous" cinnamon buns. I knew they
were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true.

Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her
everything. She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus?" she snorted.
"Ridiculous! Don't believe it. That rumor has been going around for years,
and it makes me mad, plain mad. Now, put on your coat, and let's go." "Go?
Go where, Grandma?" I asked I hadn't even finished my second world-famous
cinnamon bun.

"Where" turned out to be Kirby's General Store, the one store in town that
had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through it's
doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days.

"Take this money," she said, "and buy something for someone who needs it.
I'll wait for you in the car." Then she turned and walked out of Kirby's.


I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but
never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and
crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping. For
a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar
bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for.

I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the
kids at school, and the people who went to my church. I was just about
thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with
bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's
grade-two class.

Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out to
recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the
teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn't
have a cough; he had no coat. I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing
excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat!

I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real
warm, and he would like that. "Is this a Christmas present for someone?"
the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down.

"Yes, ma'am," I replied shyly. "It's for Bobby." The nice lady smiled at
me. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag and wished me
a Merry Christmas.

That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat in Christmas paper and
ribbons (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her
Bible) and write, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it. Grandma said that
Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker's
house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially one of
Santa's helpers. Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and
she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk.

Then Grandma gave me a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered,
"get going." I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the
present down on his step, pounded his doorbell and flew back to the safety
of the bushes and Grandma. Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness
for the front door to open.

Finally it did, and there stood Bobby. Fifty years haven't dimmed the
thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby
Decker's bushes. That night, I realized that those awful rumors about
Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they we ridiculous. Santa was
alive and well, and we were on his team.

I still have the Bible, with the tag tucked inside: $19.95.



---
Outgoing mail is certified Virus Free.
Checked by AVG anti-virus system (http://www.grisoft.com).
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  #2  
Old December 24th 03, 04:08 AM
Poke First National
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Default

What a treasured memory.
To make this quilty - was Grandma a quilter?
Merry Christmas from way Down Under
Sally in Smithton, Tasmania (Under Australia)


  #3  
Old December 24th 03, 05:30 AM
Elena
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Default

Awwwww!! Beautiful!

Elena, sniffling in her hot chocolate.

"LN (remove NOSPAM)" wrote in message
...
I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was just a kid.

I
remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big
sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she jeered. "Even
dummies know that!"

My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day
because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told
the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier
when swallowed with one of her "world-famous" cinnamon buns. I knew they
were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true.

Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her
everything. She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus?" she snorted.
"Ridiculous! Don't believe it. That rumor has been going around for years,
and it makes me mad, plain mad. Now, put on your coat, and let's go." "Go?
Go where, Grandma?" I asked I hadn't even finished my second world-famous
cinnamon bun.

"Where" turned out to be Kirby's General Store, the one store in town that
had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through it's
doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days.

"Take this money," she said, "and buy something for someone who needs it.
I'll wait for you in the car." Then she turned and walked out of Kirby's.


I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but
never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and
crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping. For
a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar
bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for.

I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the
kids at school, and the people who went to my church. I was just about
thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with
bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's
grade-two class.

Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out to
recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the
teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn't
have a cough; he had no coat. I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing
excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat!

I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real
warm, and he would like that. "Is this a Christmas present for someone?"
the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down.

"Yes, ma'am," I replied shyly. "It's for Bobby." The nice lady smiled at
me. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag and wished me
a Merry Christmas.

That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat in Christmas paper and
ribbons (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her
Bible) and write, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it. Grandma said that
Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker's
house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially one of
Santa's helpers. Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and
she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk.

Then Grandma gave me a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered,
"get going." I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the
present down on his step, pounded his doorbell and flew back to the safety
of the bushes and Grandma. Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness
for the front door to open.

Finally it did, and there stood Bobby. Fifty years haven't dimmed the
thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby
Decker's bushes. That night, I realized that those awful rumors about
Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they we ridiculous. Santa was
alive and well, and we were on his team.

I still have the Bible, with the tag tucked inside: $19.95.



---
Outgoing mail is certified Virus Free.
Checked by AVG anti-virus system (http://www.grisoft.com).
Version: 6.0.551 / Virus Database: 343 - Release Date: 12/11/2003




  #4  
Old December 24th 03, 09:40 AM
Diana Curtis
external usenet poster
 
Posts: n/a
Default

Its a very touching story but LN, you could hardly be the little girl in
the story since you only turned 40 recently. Unless.. this is a episode of
the Twilight Zone? ;-)
Diana

--
Queen of FAQs
Royal Peace Maker
http://photos.yahoo.com/lunamom44
"LN (remove NOSPAM)" wrote in message
...
I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was just a kid.

I
remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big
sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she jeered. "Even
dummies know that!"

My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day
because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told
the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier
when swallowed with one of her "world-famous" cinnamon buns. I knew they
were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true.

Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her
everything. She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus?" she snorted.
"Ridiculous! Don't believe it. That rumor has been going around for years,
and it makes me mad, plain mad. Now, put on your coat, and let's go." "Go?
Go where, Grandma?" I asked I hadn't even finished my second world-famous
cinnamon bun.

"Where" turned out to be Kirby's General Store, the one store in town that
had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through it's
doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days.

"Take this money," she said, "and buy something for someone who needs it.
I'll wait for you in the car." Then she turned and walked out of Kirby's.


I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but
never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and
crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping. For
a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar
bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for.

I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the
kids at school, and the people who went to my church. I was just about
thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with
bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's
grade-two class.

Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out to
recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the
teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn't
have a cough; he had no coat. I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing
excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat!

I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real
warm, and he would like that. "Is this a Christmas present for someone?"
the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down.

"Yes, ma'am," I replied shyly. "It's for Bobby." The nice lady smiled at
me. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag and wished me
a Merry Christmas.

That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat in Christmas paper and
ribbons (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her
Bible) and write, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it. Grandma said that
Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker's
house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially one of
Santa's helpers. Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and
she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk.

Then Grandma gave me a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered,
"get going." I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the
present down on his step, pounded his doorbell and flew back to the safety
of the bushes and Grandma. Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness
for the front door to open.

Finally it did, and there stood Bobby. Fifty years haven't dimmed the
thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby
Decker's bushes. That night, I realized that those awful rumors about
Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they we ridiculous. Santa was
alive and well, and we were on his team.

I still have the Bible, with the tag tucked inside: $19.95.



---
Outgoing mail is certified Virus Free.
Checked by AVG anti-virus system (http://www.grisoft.com).
Version: 6.0.551 / Virus Database: 343 - Release Date: 12/11/2003




  #5  
Old December 24th 03, 11:43 AM
Sharon Harper
external usenet poster
 
Posts: n/a
Default

You made me cry! Thanks for being so special.

--
Sharon From Melbourne Australia (Queen of Down Under)
http://www.geocities.com/shazrules/index.html

"LN (remove NOSPAM)" wrote in message
...
I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was just a kid.

I
remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big
sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she jeered. "Even
dummies know that!"

My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day
because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told
the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier
when swallowed with one of her "world-famous" cinnamon buns. I knew they
were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true.

Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her
everything. She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus?" she snorted.
"Ridiculous! Don't believe it. That rumor has been going around for years,
and it makes me mad, plain mad. Now, put on your coat, and let's go." "Go?
Go where, Grandma?" I asked I hadn't even finished my second world-famous
cinnamon bun.

"Where" turned out to be Kirby's General Store, the one store in town that
had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through it's
doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days.

"Take this money," she said, "and buy something for someone who needs it.
I'll wait for you in the car." Then she turned and walked out of Kirby's.


I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but
never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and
crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping. For
a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar
bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for.

I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the
kids at school, and the people who went to my church. I was just about
thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with
bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's
grade-two class.

Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out to
recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the
teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn't
have a cough; he had no coat. I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing
excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat!

I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real
warm, and he would like that. "Is this a Christmas present for someone?"
the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down.

"Yes, ma'am," I replied shyly. "It's for Bobby." The nice lady smiled at
me. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag and wished me
a Merry Christmas.

That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat in Christmas paper and
ribbons (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her
Bible) and write, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it. Grandma said that
Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker's
house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially one of
Santa's helpers. Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and
she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk.

Then Grandma gave me a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered,
"get going." I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the
present down on his step, pounded his doorbell and flew back to the safety
of the bushes and Grandma. Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness
for the front door to open.

Finally it did, and there stood Bobby. Fifty years haven't dimmed the
thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby
Decker's bushes. That night, I realized that those awful rumors about
Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they we ridiculous. Santa was
alive and well, and we were on his team.

I still have the Bible, with the tag tucked inside: $19.95.



---
Outgoing mail is certified Virus Free.
Checked by AVG anti-virus system (http://www.grisoft.com).
Version: 6.0.551 / Virus Database: 343 - Release Date: 12/11/2003




  #6  
Old December 24th 03, 04:38 PM
jeanbaby
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Default

Grandmas' sure are smart.
Jeanbaby


  #7  
Old December 24th 03, 05:07 PM
Elizabeth Young
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LN (remove NOSPAM) wrote in part:
I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was just a kid. I
remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big
sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she jeered. "Even
dummies know that!"


I have read this story many times, it still warms my heart!

liz young in stormy california
  #8  
Old December 24th 03, 05:15 PM
nana2b
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Default

I guess all Grandma's go to special class to learn how to be so wise! A
really touching story.

--
Sugar & Spice Quilts by Linda E
http://community.webshots.com/user/frame242


  #9  
Old December 24th 03, 09:35 PM
LN \(remove NOSPAM\)
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I'm older than I look. But not older than I feel!

--
LN in NH
a crazy quilter * hand quilter * & hand appliquér
all in all --- a very slow quilter.... So send quilts!
http://photos.yahoo.com/lns_obsessed


"Diana Curtis" wrote in message
...
Its a very touching story but LN, you could hardly be the little girl in
the story since you only turned 40 recently. Unless.. this is a episode of
the Twilight Zone? ;-)
Diana




---
Outgoing mail is certified Virus Free.
Checked by AVG anti-virus system (http://www.grisoft.com).
Version: 6.0.551 / Virus Database: 343 - Release Date: 12/11/2003


 




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