I remember a Christmas back in 1955. All the kids were at my grandparents house in the Twin Cities, waiting downstairs for Santa. You could smell Grandma's Swedish meatballs and lefse, upstairs. We were all sitting on the fireplace mantel, with a fire going. There was a big Christmas tree, that all of us kids had just covered with tons of tinsel. There were my cousins and sisters & aunts and uncles and all our friends and relatives. There had to be 30 people waiting... all bubbling with excitement... especially us kids. I wanted a Tonka semi truck in the worst way. Then, we heard the footsteps and jingle bells coming down the steps, and my heart pounded. And then... "he" appeared at the bottom step, wearing a smudged rubber mask with a dirty goatee glued on, a red deer hunting suit and knee high green rubber garden boots, and he sounded like my dad. I'll remember that moment forever. Memories are important! You need the "real guy". Here he is!
