Yes, There is a Santa Claus

I was born and raised in Munising, MI. Munising is a small town on the southern shores of Lake Superior and I'm proud to call it my hometown. The first residence of remembrance for me was a home at 805 W. Superior Street. My folks rented this home which was an old two story home. It had three bedrooms upstairs, one bath, an old fashioned stairway that came down into the living room which extended pretty much the length of the house. To one side was a dining room that opened into the kitchen through an access door. The house was heated by hot water radiators and the furnace was coal fired. It was the kind of middle class home you seen in old movies and read about in books about the period.

I lived in this house until I was 8 years old then my Mother, Dad and I moved to an apartment two houses West of this home. I have several warm remembrances of the first residence. My Dad always went out into the surrounding forests and cut the Christmas tree for our home. Dad was in the insurance business and had to be out and about the county so during the fall of the year as he traveled the northern backwoods he kept his eye peeled for a likely Christmas tree candidate.

In later years I accompanied him and we usually would get two trees, one for my Grandmother Toot, and one for us. In my very young years my sister Carol was home. My other sister Phylis was away at nursing school, and my brother Dean was in WWII and then on to college at Albion, MI. So we were essentially a family of four until Phyl would come home from college.

Carol has always been a light in my life. She was fun loving, a good wit, and still is even though she is now in her 76th year. My dad always brought some pine boughs home to be used by my mother and sister in other decorations about the house. One of the things Carol would do is to use Ivory Soap flakes, sugar and a beater and make our version of artificial snow. She would line the stairwell with pine boughs intertwined between the stair railing cylinders, run a string of lights through the pine boughs and then spread this artificial snow mixture on the boughs. My recollections are of pure beauty. At night with house lights off, the tree lights on, the stairwell softly lit with lights and the pine boughs covered with snow made for one of those soft vibrant evenings that are easily imprinted on a young boys mind and embedded forever in his heart. Especially when your sisters can play the piano and play Christmas music for the occasions.

So, what about Santa Claus. Well amidst all this finery, and music Santa was the prime player in my fantasies. I dutifully wrote my letters each year, or dictated them to my mother when I was very young and could write legibly. My dad mailed them off to the North Pole and I felt sure my requests had been heard and honored. One Christmas Eve when the excitement of the time was on me in full force, and we were enjoying the sensations of the season, watching the neighborhood start to fall silent as the evening descended a knock came at our front door. My Dad answered the door and a man announced that he was from Western Union down at the train depot and had a telegram for Tommie Floria. My Dad called me over and the man handed me this telegram. I couldn't believe it, who would be sending me a telegram. I'd heard about them but never had seen one. I tore open the envelope and pulled the sheet of paper from the enclosure. The telegram had the ticker tape cut and pasted to the telegram sheet which announced the telegram to be a real authentic Western Union telegram. I can still remember the words even though some 55 or 56 years have passed. It read,
"Dear Tom stop, I am on my way and will visit your home later tonight stop. Have a very Merry Christmas stop. Signed Santa Claus.

A telegram from Santa, you bet there is a Santa Claus, Western Union wouldn't lie to a little kid.

Merry Christmas to all and God Bless us everyone.