I was young, very young, when the moment of realization hit. We were shopping in Chicago's Marshall Fields and it was Christmastime. On each floor we visited, there was Santa. I'm sure the idea was to give the impression that Santa was everywhere, but the difference in his appearance gave me pause. The memory is vivid as I recall putting two and two together and to this day, I actually can still feel the fading of Christmas innocence that took place in that moment.
I'm a big girl now and Santas are everywhere and it delights me. Today I'm sharing 3 of them with you.
This is such a special image and possibly my favorite Santa depiction of all time. Roger, our recuperating friend, made this long ago when he and his then bride were honeymooning in Lake Arrowhead, high in the San Bernardino mountains. Unexpectedly, they found themselves snowed in. Out of magazines, Roger fashioned this Santa, tearing strips of needed color, to create what I consider a masterpiece. Diane decorates to a fare-thee-well every year with a gorgeous collection of treasures. None surpasses this, in my opinion.
This wonderful Santa......just the right size to be a jolly old elf, lived with us for a long time. It was made to order by a Carmel Peninsula artist, the late Edyth Plamondon. She had sculpted several figures for us to display in the shop........characters from Beatrix Potter's tiny books; Peter Rabbit, Jemima Pudldleduck, Mrs. Tiggywinkle. We had a Red Riding Hood, too, and an Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe and we sold them to the couple pictured here after we were through with shopkeeping. At that time,
This last Santa is a bit of a farce. Pauvre Monsieur Bob doesn't perceive Christmas as the wonder that many of us eperience. In fact, he's pretty much miserable the whole month of December. Not only does he have to weather Christmas, but his deplorable birthday falls on Christmas Eve. Agony is what he experiences. And as luck would have it, he married a woman who at one time, at least, exhibited the traits of a Sugarplum Fairy. Sigh.......he's in the mode of "This, too, shall pass". Poor dear. One more week, dear heart, and it'll be over. Meanwhile, I'm relishing every aspect of the holiday and the Manor knows how to celebrate. Lucky me.