I can still remember the day: December 2, 1979.
It was another Sunday afternoon where the family was watching the Bucs game. At one point, my mother went to the bedroom and was packaging gifts for relatives.
That struck me odd. Mind you, I was only 8 years old. I thought Santa Claus handled all things Christmas, so wouldn’t he be handling all of this?
I asked if Santa Claus wasn’t real, something I think we all ask in our youth sooner or later. To her credit, she fessed up right away.
I walked away shocked. But, I eventually was grateful that she didn’t keep a fraudulent story going. It also gave me an appreciation for her that still exists today.
The thing is that big fella at the North Pole doesn’t have to be real. Just as long as he is occasionally believed in.