First Christmas

When we lived in Mexico, I don't ever recall hearing about Santa.  I actually don't remember observing Christmas either, I'll have to ask Mom about this.  

After we immigrated to the U.S., however, it was all about Santa.
Whether we went to Sears or a similar store to sit on Santa's lap before Christmas, I don't remember; actually, I don't ever remember sitting on Santa's lap.  Hmmm, might that explain some of my deep seated weirdness?? Anyway, we were told about Santa and were anxious to see what the big deal was.

Older Sis, Brother and I wanted to see what this fella looked like; we decided to wait up for him, we didn't last very long.

Judging from the picture, we opened our presents soon after Santa came, we're still dressed in the same clothes we were wearing when we fell asleep.  Check out the loot, seven, or is it eight, dolls! 

Yes, I was happy, why do you ask?  No, I'm not being defensive.  

After that first Christmas, we'd wait up for Santa every year, each time hoping to catch a glimpse of the Big Guy, each time falling asleep before he arrived.  

Expect for one year.

This particular year Santa was not so quiet in his arrival.  His bells jingled oh so loudly we woke up.

There he was, dressed in his red velvety suit, black boots and black belt, white beard, white hair.  Bellowing his HO, HO, HO's. 
He spoke.  He called my name.  He knew who I was! 

Wow.  Santa.  Here.  In my house.  I was awestruck.

'Ol Saint Nick gave us our toys, talked to us, HO, HOed some more and then it was time for him to leave.

I'd been in the U. S. long enough by now that I knew all about how Santa got around.  I'd watched Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer on TV.  I knew that if he was about to leave, I might just get to see him take off on his sleigh, pulled by old Rudy himself.

I don't know where Big Sis and Brother were, or what Mom and Dad were doing but I ran to the window as soon as the Big Guy walked out the door anticipating the lift off of those cute, furry, four-legged-creatures.  

I held my breath in anticipation.  And what did I see?  

It wasn't a sleigh being pulled by reindeer  Instead it was....

Yep.  'Ol Santa was driving an El Camino. 

What happened next I don't remember.  Maybe I do and the trauma was too much and I've repressed it, or maybe, as with the not sitting on Santa's lap, this is why I'm in the state of weirdness that I am, hmmm.  I will ponder on this.

There aren't many, if any, El Caminos on the road nowadays, good thing too because after that little vision, the sight of Santa pulling away instead of flying away always came flooding back every time I saw one.

Years later I discovered who our El Camino Santa was.  He was a member of one of those very kind, loving, caring families that sponsored our family so we could immigrate.  This knowledge made El Camino Santa even more special to me.


  1. I can't actually remember watching that El Camino drive away, but I do know that Santa drove away in it. I remember thinking that the mail carrier drove and El Camino just like Santa's and was a little suspicious. But before those thoughts crept into my mind I remember being absolutely floored by the fact that Santa knew each of our names! I felt so special and I am grateful beyond words for the kindness of the families that helped us out. Thank you for bringing back these great memories!

    -Older Sis

  2. This might be one of my most favorite posts yet V! Love it!