Santa is Real and His Name is George

Dear Boo and Bubble,

Today is Christmas Eve and to me, even more than Christmas Day itself, it embodies the delectable and anticipatory spirit of the season. Carols that have worn out their welcome on the radio since Halloween refresh themselves with a new vibrancy. The frantic pace of shopping, decorating, cooking, wrapping, mailing and partying simmers down into a slow, warm relaxation where one can take off shoes, prop up the feet and sip some nog. We are filled with eagerness for tomorrow. All of its promise lies still before us with the most wonderful emotion in mankind’s existence – that of hope and expectancy.

Well…yeah....and then you wake up.

As Christmas approached in 1979, your mom had just turned four and Aunt Bee was only a baby. Unlike the three years before, Mary Kathleen now had a secure grasp on the concept of Santa Claus and his stash of presents. She set her sights on an Easy-Bake Oven and chattered about it pretty constantly beginning around Thanksgiving. Captain and I made the obligatory parental warning – “If you’re good, maybe Santa will bring it to you, but you must be good. You know, he’s watching your every move.” 

Sometime in early December, one of my neighbors in Canterbury invited me to come to a yard sale. I’m not normally a yard sale shopper, but I went to be supportive. As I combed through the offerings neatly displayed on her driveway, I spotted an Easy-Bake Oven. I about broke my neck tripping over old clothes, shoes, pots and pans, electric blankets, and lamps to get to it.

It looked in good shape. The price clearly marked on masking tape stuck to the back read “$1.00.”

“How incredible,” I thought to myself. “I can get Mary Kathleen’s Santa gift for $1.00.”

I scooped it up and went immediately to pay. As soon as I returned home, I went into the house and pulled down the attic stairs and climbed up enough of them to be able to tuck the oven safely in a convenient hiding place.

The weeks passed quickly with the usual crescendo of holiday activity until all of a sudden, it was Christmas Eve. In the late afternoon, oh, maybe around 5:00, I was in the kitchen starting dinner when Captain pulled into the carport from work. Your mom sat watching TV in the family room while Aunt Bee played in her playpen.

Captain came over and kissed me on the cheek.

“Merry Christmas Eve,” he said jovially. (Hint: Captain LOVES Christmas – everything about it.)

“And Merry Christmas Eve to you,” I responded.

“So….do we have everything? For Santa, I mean.” He lowered his voice to his whisper.

“Yes. Remember, I found the Easy-Bake Oven at the yard sale a few weeks ago.”

“And…..do we have anything to bake in the oven? Like mix and pans and stuff?”

I could feel the flush immediately creep up my neck. My blank expression, plus my absolute muteness, answered his question. In the excitement of my bargain, I had overlooked the need for the necessary accessories so your mom could actually cook something. It would be like Santa Pergatory - “Yes, little girl, you were good enough to get the oven, but not good enough to be able to do anything with it.”

“Uh…..” was all I could muster.

“Hold that thought,” Captain said as he pointed his finger at me. Before I could respond, he was out the door and backing down the driveway.

My mind raced as I considered any options that I might have to make the situation right. It was already dark. This was way before the days of malls, Wal-Mart and other big-box stores that stayed open late. The only place that would possibly have Easy-Bake Oven supplies was the local hardware store. I looked up the number in the phone book and dialed it.

Ring.....ring.....ring.....ring.....ring....ring....ring.

No answer. They were closed. My heart sank.......until I thought about calling the owner of the store, George Morgan.

There are advantages to living in a small town like ours of Gaffney, not the least of which is that everybody knows everybody. Captain and I were acquaintances with George and his wife, Bunnie.

I called the Morgans' home phone.

Ring...ring....ring....ring... “Hello” ….a voice answered.

“George!?!” I pretty much shrieked.

“Yes?” he answered, sounding a little reticent, like he might have a lunatic on the other end of the line.

“This is Beth Tally. I hate to bother you here on Christmas Eve, but would you like to save a marriage?”

He laughed, sort of.

“I know that you've closed the store, but I was wondering if by any chance you have Easy-Bake Oven accessories.”

“Yes. Do you need some?”

“I do and if I can't get them, both Santa and I are in a big old, bad dog house.”

“Well, we don't want that, now do we? Why don't I meet you at the store in a few minutes and we'll solve that problem.”

I called my across the street neighbor to come over and stay with your mom and Aunt Bee while I went to meet George. It took me no more than twenty minutes to go and come back.

 

Around 7:00, Captain pulled back into the carport. He had driven all over town looking for any store that was open and only met with success at Buford Street Drugs. They didn't have any Easy-Bake Oven supplies, but Captain found a race car set with enough track to snake and loop around all the furniture in the living room with the finish line right underneath the Christmas tree.

The next morning, your mom couldn't believe everything Santa had brought her the night before. She spent Christmas day dividing her time between racing the cars with Captain and baking cakes with me.

It was a wonderful day that surely would have been otherwise..... but for that Santa named George!