Joni & Santa: A Pictorial Retrospective

I actually wrote and posted a similar entry on my blog about two years ago, but I felt it needed some updating to honor my real Santa Claus - my Daddy - who I lost earlier this year.

For nine years, my Mom dutifully dressed me in my finest Christmas wear and took me to see Santa Claus at the Rich's at Greenbriar Mall (and once at the Downtown Rich's when my kindergarten choir performed on the Bridge at the lighting of the Great Tree). Here is the chronicle of those visits.

1963 - So, this is where it all began. My first visit as a 3 month old in 1963. I'm clearly making a lot of noise and irritating Santa, while my brother Steve is a picture perfect boy scout. This picture pretty much sums up my family dynamic from that point on.

1964 - Still making noise and being irritating....

1965 - although, admit it - you'd cry too if Santa was letting everyone see your underpants?

1966 - I can haz a Christmas Tree Candy??? (See? Before Candy = No Happys. After Candy - Happys!)

1967 - Dude! He gave me candy again, and I wasn't even good this year!

1968 - Hey, if my brother can dress up like a boy scout, I can be an angelic little choir girl. (This one is the only departure from the Greenbriar tradition - this one was taken at the Downtown Rich's. Man, Santa really got around.)

1969 - I think that I'm slowly starting to notice that the beard is a fake. But I'm totally digging that crocheted vest over my blouse and the plaid pleated skirt.

1970 - Now this Santa sort of creeps me out. I think he's sort of sketchy looking, don't you? But, on a happier note, my aunt Charlsie made that top/dress for me. It was one of my favorites.

1971 - And this Santa just isn't even trying - I mean, his mustache is below his top lip and his belly is pushed up above his belt like man boobs. Come on dude, this isn't a tough gig - just sit in the chair and make sure your fake hair and stomach stays in place. I'm thinking this guy had thrown back a few too many before shift down at the Happy Hermans mid-mall.

Just after this one, my stupid, mean classmate Ronnie Powell ruined Christmas forever when he told us all the truth about Santa. I hated that kid. Of course, in relaying this story to my childhood best friend Karen, I found out that I promptly came home from school that day and told her what Ronnie Powell had done, thereby ruining Santa Claus for her. Damn me and my gossiping. Sorry Karen :-(

2009 - So here I am last Christmas with the real (and very best) Santa that there ever was. I love you Daddy, and I appreciate all you did to make each Christmas special for our family. It won't be the same without you this year.

I hope you enjoyed my trip down memory lane with Santa, and I wish you all a very Merry Christmas.