I sure don't feel like getting the Christmas tree all set up, and I haven't begun addressing holiday cards yet. I'm probably way behind on my shopping for friend and family gifts, and I should be aiming to finish everything up by the 19th because then I'm leaving for a week's vacation.
But the holiday spirit whomped me when I read this heartwarming/heartbreaking article in the Trib. Each year, letters addressed to Santa end up at the post office, but not in the dead letter bin. Instead, the letters are put out so that people can choose a "Dear Santa" letter to fulfill. In the Trib article, one sad tale spurred an outpouring of generosity from readers—but post offices still have a slew of letters that nobody's picked up, that the media isn't showering attention on.
So I stopped by the post office this morning and was moved by a letter from a mom. She doesn't have much, but would like to give her kids a nice Christmas. She's hoping for a little help from Santa. She's got four kids in the house. Her daughters are 12 and 16, her son's 14, and her foster daughter is 16. All she asked for was pajamas or a coat, and some Bratz dolls for the youngest.
Coats? It's December, and the kids still need coats? Dang. I took that letter straight to Sears and bought four puffy coats with warm hoods. And also a set of warm jammies for each kid.
If you can swing it financially this year, I hope you'll stop by your local post office and play Santa, too.