The Kid in Me...

...still believes in the heavyset, white bearded guy in the sleigh being pulled by 8 reindeer...yup, I do.

Laugh if you want...heck, sometimes I laugh at myself; but I'll yell you why I still believe.

The worst two Christmases I've ever had were spent in the worst place 'd ever been in my life.

Christmas of 1966 I was lying in a cot at 1st Hospitals Company, Chu Lai, in Vietnam. I had been med-evaced out of the bush with malaria.

Felt like 10lbs. of crap in a 5lb. bag and Christmas eve was...well, if you've ever had malaria, regardless of the time of year or where you are, to say it sucks is an understatement.

Christmas of 1967 I was two miles from the DMZ on a lovely little hill we called "the meat grinder", in the I Corps area of Vietnam, called Con Thien. Here's the laugh...roughly translated. Con Thien means "Hill of Angels". Ask anyone who was there, there was NOTHING angelic about it.

That night we prayed...prayed we would get through the night without getting hit.

That night I remembered Christmases as a little boy: I was 9-years old, sitting out on the front lawn, looking up in the sky, and waiting...waiting to see Santa Claus. I'd been waiting about an hour. Then I got the bright idea that I could see Santa better if I was on the roof. So, I went into the garage, grabbed the only latter we had, which was three times taller than I was, and tried to drag it out of the garage without making a lot of noise, because I knew my dad would go spastic if he knew what I was doing.

You can imagine how well that went.

Dad couldn't help but hear the racket, came outside. Editing his language, he asked me what I was doing and I told him. "I'm gettin on the roof so I can see Santa!"

Yeah...I'd already figured out that Santa wasn't a real guy and my parents knew it - I didn't care. I still wanted to believe.

And this...this is when my dad became the greatest dad in the world.

He picked up the ladder, looked at me and said, "You're 9-years old. 9-year old boys, especially ones like you (yeah, even at 9, I knew my bubble was a little off center), are not going up on that roof by themselves".

He propped the ladder up against the side of the house and said, "I'm going up with you."

We sat up there for three hours waiting, talking...about...stuff.

Since coming home from Vietnam, every Christmas eve, no matter where I have lived, I sit out on the front lawn or get up on the roof, and just in case he's real...I wait for Santa.

It's the only innocence of my youth that is still strong in me; and I will never let it go.

I believe innocence isn't something to be scoffed at...it's to be cherished. And although I've had a very good adult life, there have been times in my life when "growing up", was highly over rated. Bet you can relate, right?

The birth of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ was real. This time of the year is when most of the world celebrates it. The Spirit of Santa Claus is real...and maybe, just maybe; some Christmas eve I'll be up on that roof and I'll see him.

Join me...I dare ya!

Merry Christmas every body!