YES LOUIS THERE REALLY IS A SANTA
   by Patricia Ennis-Burke

That terrible time of doubting Santa Claus creeps into each child's life, but there is no definite age when this occurs. My brother, Louis, was probably eight years old when doubt overtook him. Perhaps he had overheard the older boys discussing the topic: perhaps he had witnessed unusual happenings at our house; whatever the source of his anxiety that particular Christmas, he had to have proof of Santa Claus’ existence.

He had told us he was going to sit on the top step of the stairs and wait to see what would happen. We had warned him that if Santa came and caught him, he probably would not leave a gift for him.

There was no doubt in our minds. We were convinced that there definitely was a Santa Claus. Several years earlier on Christmas morning, Gabriel and Leo Mulrooney had rushed into our house shouting excitedly, ‘Come see! Come see! Santa's beard got caught in our bedroom door!" Sure enough, hanging from the top of the door were yellowish-grey strands of Santa's whiskers. What more proof could any child want!

We could not dissuade Louis and he sat and sat and sat some more while we slept soundly awaiting Santa's visit. Near midnight, we were startled by shrill screams piercing the stillness of the night. It was Mom. We couldn't tell if she were laughing or crying, but from the tone of Dad's voice, and the expression on Lou's face, we knew something was wrong.

The next day we learned the whole story. Mom had come from the parlor loaded down with boxes. Lou assumed that she was acting Santa and shouted, ‘I caught ya! I caught ya!’ Mom went hysterical, dropping everything and screaming uncontrollably. Dad didn't take this incident lightly and apparently neither did Santa.

On Christmas morning, Doreen and I discovered Barbara Ann Scott figure skates next to our stockings. Angela and Barbara got beautiful dolls and Frank's stocking was filled with little baby toys. Near Lou's stocking was a pair of mittens. Tears rolled down his cheeks. He stared in disbelief. After a long time, he hauled the mittens on and discovered a fifty-cent piece and a note from Santa. It read:

Dear Louis:
This is what happens when boys stop believing. If you are truly sorry and are a good boy, perhaps on my way back to the North Pole I might have a pair of skates to fit you.
‘Til then
Santa Claus.

I'll never forget Lou's disappointment that Christmas morning nor my mother's tears. I could understand Lou's feelings, but it wasn't until I was much older, that I understood why Mom cried so.

That year Santa did not wait until Old Christmas Day to return to the North Pole. If I remember correctly, it was December 26 that he brought the skates for Lou. I have a suspicion that Louis still believes in Santa.