Senior Stories: Santa Exposed
Tales with Meaning Written by Atherton Residents
Martha Beyer, Atherton resident since 2010
The first house that I remember from my childhood was on a corner lot and the house curved around that corner like a boomerang. There were two apartments and the front door of our apartment faced Kolstad Street while the front door of the other apartment faced Tennessee Avenue. There was a long hallway between the two apartments that had been closed off at one end and had a door at the other end. It became a giant storage room for unused furniture and out of season clothes. It was here the second week in December that I discovered all the Christmas gifts while my Mother and little sister, Nancy, were taking their afternoon nap. Imagine my surprise on Christmas morning when the tag on my gift said ‘To Martha from Santa Claus.’ The cat was out of the bag, but I managed to keep my mouth shut. It was several years before I admitted to my Mother that I knew there was no Santa because I was sneaking around in the storage room that day. It had been a hard secret to keep. She didn’t punish me because she decided that having the bubble burst about Santa was punishment enough.
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