It was Christmas eve sometime in the ‘80s and we were all at the Gilmer farm. After a hearty Grandma Gilmer dinner which surely included a Turkey and homemade noodles, the adults were talking politics or playing eucre. My sister, Molly, (both of us single-digit age kids at that time) were pretty well behaved. We were mostly self contained and entertaining ourselves at that moment. We weren’t staying at the farm that night and it was starting to get late. Well, if you know my Uncle Neil, you know he’s gifted at the art of mischief and he sensed this prime opportunity. Molly and I were at that age where Christmas morning is the day of all days … the other 364 were all just a buildup to the big one. Yes, Santa was a big deal in those days for us and discovering what he had left under the tree on Christmas morning was the equivalent of willing the lottery. All Uncle Neil did was whisper “Santa … tonight” to Molly and me and the two of us were rousted from our calm mental states and were transformed into the most impatient and frenzied whirling dervishes in Wayne County. With those two words, Uncle Neil set our minds into a frenzy. We had somehow been lulled into a non-Santa centric mental state; probably by our parents, and Uncle Neil would have nothing of it. Molly and I applied our most aggressive “let’s go!” tactics on our parents because our thinking was that the sooner we got home; the sooner Santa would visit our house and we could get on with the “big day.” From that day forward, Uncle Neil’s teasing phrase “Santa … tonight” would be repeated with laughs every Christmas Eve and I have no doubt it will continue to make us smile.
Bill B
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