C is for Christmas

During Christmas 1979, I had just turned 8, and we were living at Camp Bayou in Ruskin, Florida. We had a pop-up camper that we called the Space Age Dumpster. It was an improvement from our previous home, which was a leaky canvas pop-up camper we had called The Dumpster. The Space Age Dumpster was fiberglass, and although it did not leak, in the morning the walls would drip with condensation and my blankets would be damp at the edges.

The week before Christmas, the campground filled with new people, including some children. I was excited to have playmates, even though I understood that they were on vacation and would not stay. I made a new friend one day and we climbed one of the crazy oak trees. While we were sitting in the tree, I asked her, “How do you think Santa Claus can find us when we are away from home? And how do you think he can get in the camper when there’s no chimney?” It was the first Christmas that I did not live in a house with a fireplace or a wood stove.

“Don’t you know there’s no such thing as Santa Claus?” she replied, surprised at my ignorance.

“That’s not true!” I yelled, aghast. “Then where do the presents come from?”

“Your parents,” she said. “How do you think you get what you want?”

I was still in shock. “I always write a letter to Santa Claus before Christmas! On Christmas Eve I leave milk and cookies out for him, and they are gone in the morning,” I explained, sure that this would prove Santa’s existence.

“It’s your parents that eat the cookies. Just ask them,” she said.

I could not believe that every adult I knew had been lying to me my entire life. 

“It’s not true!” I yelled, “There really is a Santa!” I climbed down from the tree and ran to the Space Age Dumpster where Cheryl was cooking. To my dismay, she corroborated the story.

When I got gifts for my birthday and Christmas the next day, I knew that Santa Claus couldn’t have made them – my second favorite gift after a Darci doll was a box for my dolls that Papa made from a drawer that was in the original Dumpster. He had taken The Dumpster apart and made it into a trailer that he could carry things in to sell at the flea market, and the drawer had become scrap material.  He had built dividers inside it, made a cover from wood paneling, and attached a suitcase handle to the top. My mother had painted flowers on the box to make it look like a fancy doll carrier.

Perhaps THEY were Santa's real elves, working together in secret while I played in the trees. Even then I sensed that elves in the North Pole couldn't have made mass-produced toys that had "Made in China" stamped on the back.

Here's the doll carrier. It still holds my dolls, although the sliding top is broken into two pieces after 30 years of use. Compare it to the photo of the 1976 official Barbie carrier that I found on eBay. Which one was made in Santa's workshop?

Comments

[Terrepruitt]

I can't remember finding out about Santa. I do remember knowing that my parents were "Santa". We still used to get gifts from "Santa". We got gifts under the tree from mom and dad, but "Santa" gifts we got in the morning. I remember lying in bed listening for my parents to "play Santa". I don't remember believing in Santa or when I found out mom and dad were Santa. I don't think that I really cared because either way, I was getting presents. It could be that I learned about "Santa" not being real early on because we are a "Jesus is the Reason for the Season" type of family. So maybe I wasn't all that upset about Santa not being real. Like I said, I still got gifts so . . . .

I LOVE your Barbie box. Beautiful flowers and leather handle. So much better than the plastic one. It would have kept your Barbies much more safe. I also love that you still have it! Awesome!

[sULily]

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