"Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. . . . Thank God! He lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood."
"The Sun" Sept 21, 1897
http://youtu.be/Yb8EOhqe3hA [Jolly Old St. Nick/Eddy Arnold]
It’s Christmas Eve, and my husband and I are enjoying the Christmas tree lights as we watch Miracle on 34th Street. I told my puppies that Santa Claus was on his way, but he wouldn’t come until they were sleepy sound in their bed. Guess where they are?
We took a drive earlier in the evening, and it got me to thinking back to other Christmases. I asked Tom about it. It brought to mind one special Christmas season. It's hard to believe it was 12 years ago that Tom and I boarded a train in Cumberland, Maryland called The Santa Claus Express. It was a steam engine train – one of the last few that runs in this country, I believe.
We had lunch on the train, while it meandered through the mountains and took us up to Frostburg, Maryland - to a little shop up there where we got to see Santa Claus.
Oh, it was an exciting trip! I remember the shop had an ice-cream store and a place to get hot cider, coffee and tea, as well as a bunch of little gift shops connected to it. I made my way throughout all the gifts shops looking for a special treasure, because there's always one to be found if you know how and where to look for them. Then, I took my place inside to wait for Santa. Tom stood on the sidelines for that part of the adventure. The train ride up was the adventure part for him. Not me. I knew bigger and better things awaited us at the end of that coal run.
I’ll never forget the look on this little girl’s face when I got behind her in the line to see Santa. It was a funny look, like "what are you doing?" I gave her a big smile and told her how pretty she looked. She was wearing a festive red sweater. I, myself, had on a hot pink one bejeweled with a sparkling snowman on it. When you’re going to see Santa, after all, you must wear your Sunday’s best, even if it is on Saturday. She couldn’t help herself. She looked around me, and seeing no child in tow asked again. "What are you doing?"
"I’m waiting to see Santa!" I told her cheerfully.
Her mouth fell open a bit in disbelief. I’m short, but I can’t be mistaken for a kid. She wasn't buying my answer.
"YOU?" she said in a tone of utter surprise.
I nodded. "Sure!" I told her. "Aren’t you in line to see Santa Claus?"
"Yes," she stammered, "but I..."
My eyebrows rose as I leaned down to hear what else she was going to say.
She stopped mid-sentence as her brows came together. "You’re going to sit on his knee and tell him what you want for Christmas?"
"Of course I am!" I told her. "How else is he going to know I want a doll?"
Her eyes grew wider still. "A doll!? YOU want a doll?" she hunched her arms back, not knowing if I was serious.
I nodded. "Don’t you like dolls?"
"Yes, but...." she hemmed and hawed.
My husband stood behind the line, his arms folded, watching this scene unfold – very amused. I suppose, at times, having a wife who collects dolls can be an amusing thing.
Back to the little girl. She thought I was pulling her leg. "You aren’t going to ask him for a doll!" she exclaimed.
"Why don’t you hang around after you’re done with him and watch me," I told her. "Because I am going to ask him for a doll," I pointed to my husband. "Ask him," I directed. "He’ll tell you that I will."
Her eyes wandered over to my husband.
"Tom," I called. "This little girl doesn’t believe that I collect dolls. Would you tell her that I do."
Tom nodded. "Oh, she collects dolls alright," he said, not as enthused about them as I was. "She must have a 100 by now."
The little girls eyes got wider still. "A hundred?"
"He’s pulling your leg," I replied waving the comment off, downplaying it. "It’s more like 80."
She looked back at me as if she wasn’t sure who to believe?
"You really collect dolls?"
I nodded. "I REALLY do."
She considered it for a minute. "So, which doll do you want this year?"
I smiled. "I want a doll that came out last year," I told her. I felt the excitement come when I began to tell her about her. "She’s solid porcelain, and she has platinum hair and blue eyes just like I had when I was a little girl. Her name is Baby Miracles."
"Baby Miracles?" she said, as her brows came together. "I haven’t heard of that one."
"She’s a Marie Osmond doll," I said.
Her mother came back over to the line with a cup of hot cider.
"Mom," she said to the woman in an excited tone. "This lady collects dolls."
The lady looked at me and smiled. I smiled back.
"Lots of people collect dolls," she informed her daughter.
Just then, the man, Santa's Helper, called her up to get ready for her time with Santa.
"Good luck!" I whispered. "I hope you get what you want."
I watched as Santa pulled her up into his lap, and she told him that she’d been a good girl. She laughed and giggled as I watched her tell him all the things she wanted him to bring her. It made me smile as I listened to the interplay between the two of them. She giggled. He laughed. It was a beautiful sight.
When she was finished, she moved down off his lap and made her way down the exit aisle and stood near my husband, as I made the walk up to Santa. If he was surprised by my presence, he didn’t let on. He patted his knee and I sat down.
He laughed a hearty, "Ho! Ho! Ho!" as I looped my arm around his shoulder.
"Have you been a good little girl?" he asked.
I guess when you’re an old man with a long white beard that every female looks like a little girl.
I nodded. "I believe I have," I replied, then pointed to Tom for confirmation. "He’ll tell you so."
Tom smiled at us but his smile told me he really didn’t want to get involved in this part of MY adventure.
I saw the little girl looking at me so I boldly stated my want without waiting for Santa to ask me.
"I want a doll," I told him. "She’s a beautiful porcelain doll with platinum blonde hair and blue eyes."
Santa listed intently, chuckling as we spoke. "And, what’s the Doll’s name that you want?" he asked.
"Baby Miracles," I told him. "But, she has to be the one from Marie Osmond’s doll line. THAT’s the Baby Miracles I want!"
He pulled his head back with a noted "Oh," and a nod that he’d gotten it. "Marie Osmond's Baby Miracles," he repeated."
"Yes, Santa! Thank you!" I replied. "Do you like eggnog?"
"I love eggnog!" he replied.
I smiled. "You bring me that doll, and I’ll leave you a glass of eggnog that’ll warm your heart, thaw your hands and put some jolly back into your holly!"
He Ho! Ho! Hoed me again after I told him that.
When I got off his lap and walked down the aisle, the little girl winked at me, and I winked back.
After we visited with Santa, we walked around outside to take in the mountain view with the crisp, delicious smelling air that only comes at wintertime. It was a gorgeous setting. And, what do you know....it began to snow....light, fluffy snow.
We laughed. We oohed and awed that on that day, of all days, we would be treated with the additional magic of snow. It was a perfect day - one of those days when the weather is beautiful and the encounters are better.
As we re-boarded the train to return home, the better encounters keep improving. Tom and I took our seat as we waited for the hot chocolate and cookies to be served. Once we got going, who do you think popped into the dining car but that jolly old soul in the red suit with the long white beard. He laughed and laughed and laughed some more as he stopped at each table and spoke to those sitting around it.
Before he left our table, he looked at me and said, "I’ll see what I can do about that doll!"
I nodded and said in complete seriousness. "I know you will, Santa! I have faith in you!"
Tom and I talk a lot about that trip - the magical beauty of that day and the fun-filled memory that we created.
You’re probably wondering if I got that doll?
Not only did I get that doll but I got number 813 out of the edition. As a believer in signs, it was a BIG deal. You see, 813 is my birth date. It was better, for me, than getting the number one doll of the edition. Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay better.
Since then, I’ve taken that doll to Washington, D.C., where Marie hand signed her for me, and I took her to a doll gathering in Michigan where Sonja Breyer signed her too. She’s a treasure alright. A special doll like that....you’re probably wondering what she’s worth? I can’t really put a price tag on her because she’s just THAT special, but I’d say she’s worth every bit of a miracle or two...every bit.
Are you a believer? Do you believe in miracles? Do you believe in signs? Do you believe in Santa Claus? Can you still hear the ringing of a bell dangling on a long, red string? Do you really need to ask me if those question hold true for me?
Santa’s on his way. I know it’s true, sure as I’m sitting here typing. Merry Christmas, Everyone! May all YOUR dreams come true...and God Bless Us Everyone!
http://youtu.be/vDoRPbsfJE0 [Believe/Josh Groban]
http://www.wmsr.com/attraction.php?attraction=275&category=90 Link to Western Scenic Maryland Railroad
* In case you're wondering about the eggnog, I refer you to Evan Williams Southern Blended eggnog. It's one of many good things we know how to do well and right in the south! ;-)
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