In fact, the older I get– the more I believe.

True Story: Until the year my Dad died, I made certain to leave Santa milk and cookies next to the spot on the couch where he always sat. Sometimes, if I was feeling a little naughty– I left Santa a shot or two of Jack Daniels in a glass. (This treat was never a big hit with Mrs. Claus Mom.) This ritual was never a joke. My Mom told me Dad would get up every Christmas morning and head straight for the treats… And he ate and drank every single thing I left out for him.

I’m not telling you this story because I feel the need to submit to the manufactured sappiness that invades our lives every Holiday Season. I’m writing to express how I feel about Santa Claus… That I believe in him and feel that…