Christmas of 1970

This memory has been at me for a while now; so I am just going to write it down and get it out of my system. It all has to do with Santa Claus.  I believed in Santa for ever and I still remember being in Kindergarten and walking alone to the bus stop and asking Santa to please hear my request...all I wanted was a thumblina doll.  She was a wind up doll with blonde hair and she would cry a small sweet cry.  I recall believing if I told no one except Santa the request would be granted and thus Santa would indeed be real. Well, that particular year my mom took me to the department store to sit on Santa's lap.  He asked me what I wanted for Christmas and I was quite a shy little girl and with a small whisper said., Thumbalina Doll.  Anything else and looking down at his black boots shook my head no.  

ON the way home from visiting Santa my mom was just affirming me of what a good girl I was and that most children went on and on about what they wanted...and I only asked for one thing.  She was so proud of me.  Santa was so taken a back by my unselfishness that just as I left Santa's lap he left his throne and pulled my mom aside and yes told her I only wanted one thing.  Poor Barbie...just trying so hard to be good and get one thing for Christmas.

Well, I got that Thumbalina Doll and loved her forever.  This affirmed my belief that Santa was indeed real.  Being the last of 5 children...my parents wanted the magic of childhood fantasies to linger as long as possible. So they continued to feed the fantasy..I made Christmas cookies with my family every year with one motivation... leaving them for Santa to eat Christmas Eve. We did not have a fire place and as I got older I began to wonder how Santa got into our home...The response was simple he came in the front door.  I made sure the door was left unlocked Christmas Eve.

So here I am 7 GOING on 8 and in the very challenging year of 3rd grade...life was extremely different that year and I hated it...But that is another story. The good thing was I made a great friend in class that year we were best friends and had the same birthday.  Her name was Lori; we sat at the same table in  class and I had just received a letter from Santa in the mail...the first ever...I always wrote Santa but this was the first response from the North Pole addressed to me.  I was happy and sharing my letter with my table of 2 other friends Lori and Joyce.  I announced early in the morning before the teacher even did role call that I got a letter from Santa.  Lori just burst into laughter and shouted "ha ha ha you still believe in Santa"  I was crushed and couldn't wait to get home and ask my mom the truth..

Well as soon as I got home I asked Betty if Santa was real because Lori said she wasn't...Well my mom was not an out and out liar and I knew if I asked her a direct question she would have to fess up.  I sulked with the confirmation that Santa was hoax. I walked alone into the living room sat in a chair near the living room window and sat with my new reality.  Letting it soak in so I thought if Santa wasn't real then there was  big fat chance the Easter Bunny wasn't coming to town either. So I asked mom as she washed the dishes with her flowered apron tied on behind her back.  Same response flat no...and then I went to process the info back in the living room.  Last ditch to get some free money...I asked how about the Tooth Fairy again as I expected No.

This was a bad blow but I was resilient and after I accepted it; there was a deep sense that I was indeed growing up and capable of facing any grown up problems that would come my way. My friends all knew Santa was not real and so really I was finally joining the rest of the party.  I had moved on and was going to school; learning and doing my homework..trying to live by the golden rule.

My mom, "Betty" was not OK.  She was shattered much more than I was. Well, I will just cut to the chase...about 1 week before the big day...she slit her wrists and she spend the Christmas of 1970 in a place called Crownsville...this was a state hospital for the crazies.  Not a good Christmas.

I still don't completely understand why she did it...what was so bad about me not believing in Santa any longer.  I guess the good thing is I don't need to understand her and I can't analyze her.  She did what she did and I can file it away here on this blog....I forgive her for what she did and I don't need to know why in order to forgive...I forgive... for if frees me.  Now the memory is recorded.