My grandson Huck. (To clarify… Huck is my daughters 1/2 year old dog) Will I tell him about Santa Claus? Will I carve a pumpkin and cut out a razor haired black cat? Can we both sit and watch the Wizard of Oz and be afraid of flying monkeys? I don’t know if my peers are teaching their kids about Old St. Nick? … Are they going to the trouble with Easter bunnies, Columbus Day?… I’d rather tell him the Godfather story then tell him the truth about Christopher C. The Mayflower? pilgrims?, over what river and through what woods? And why is grandma so far away?

I believed once. I believed in the magic, the lights. I believed that candy made me rich when I jiggled it in my orange plastic pumpkin. I believed that going to bed made presents move from behind that closet to the bottom of that colorful green plastic pine tree. That’s magic. I believed 10 years later, listening to the same Christmas songs over and over again…turned me back into an 8 year old who brought life into his G.I. joe and really could enjoy the sulphur from his cap gun. Huck what do you want to believe?