I very rarely talk about anything personal on this site!  Its usually reserved for anything tech and the ocasional idiot. I have broken the rules before, like recently when I visited my son in Colorado, but almost everything that goes up here is usually on topic . . . . .   But with that said, yesterday, I was visiting my dad in the hospital and got to thinking about my childhood!  You know, I had the greatest childhood!  We weren't rich, but I never took the time to notice!  As I was growing up, we had a camper and most weekends were spent inside it somewhere!  We traveled to local places and spent time in Myrtle Beach at least once a year.  Most weekends were either on the BlueRidge parkway, or somewhere in the Smokey Mountains. Come Christmas time, I got so excited, that my parents wanted to kill me! Man, at the loot I got come Christmas!  Christmas truely was a marathon!  At home, it was awesome, but we would eat Christmas Lunch at my Mother's Parents. Christmas was just as good there as it was at home! 

Yea, I got toys, clothes, candy, etc every year! But now that I am getting older, I am thinking back to those Christmases and remembering some of those surprises waiting behind that colorful paper.  Here are a few of those things that stand out.

• Hotwheels race tracks!  I think I got some sort of HotWheels race track about 4 years in a row. Remember the orange plastic tracks with the 360 loops?  And when hotwheels made the fat tracks with cars that you charged up?  Man, we had neighborhood races that were awesome!
• An Organ!  I can remember finding that Organ Christmas morning, plugging that baby up and learning Silient night while my brother and parents were still in the bed!  How cool was that?
  
• A Microphone!  I remember as a teenager, playing in a band.  We had guitars, bass and drums.  Problem was, we had no PA and no microphones. So I asked my parents for a microphone and GOT ONE!  We would plug it into a spare guitar amp!  I remember breaking it, emulating KISS when I hit the stand and knocked it over.  I was devastated!
• Watches!  I had a fetish as a kid for watches that carried into adulthood!  The watch was finally replaced with a Treo as I don't even wear one anymore, but for years, I was delighted to find a Timex under the tree!

Now, as a young boy, I believed in Santa!  Oh, believe me, he was real!  So real in fact, that I actually heard him!  No, it wasn't my dad acting like him . . .  I heard the real thing.  Here is the story . . . . . . .

Like every young boy, I was told that if Santa saw me up that he wouldn't leave any toys!  One Christmas morning I woke up and it was still dark outside.  I didn't know if Santa had arrived or not, so I laid very still in the bed.  Suddenly I heard knocking on the roof!  Then I heard all this wind!  And then, on the other end of the house, I heard the "Ho Ho Ho" Again, I would hear the wind blowing, and the deep laughter!  I laid in bed as still as I could!  I was frozen with fear!  Finally, it ended!  But what to do?  What if he wasn't done?  I finally got up the nerve to creep down the hallway and peak into the den . .   Presents everywhere!!!!!!  But no sign of Santa!  I still hesitated because I wasn't sure if he was around the corner or not.  I actually crawled on my stomach much like a soldier facing the enemy!  I made it across the kitchen floor so I could get a full view of the den!  THE COAST WAS CLEAR!!!!!!!  Up on my feet and into the middle of little boy heaven!  By the time my brother and parents were up, there was nothing left but a sea of torn wrapping paper  that had anything with my name on it!  

Now, as I have grown older I have learned a lot of life lessons!  But for that one Christmas, fantasy and life were one!  Santa was real, and to this day I believe my ears!  I might tell you that Santa isn't real . . . .   But once upon a time in my life, he was!  I heard him!

To kids young and old everywhere!  Merry Christmas and my God truely bless you with more than you can stand! 

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Copyright (C) 2007 Alain Georgette / Copyright (C) 2006 Frantisek Hliva. All rights reserved.

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