The Last Time I Saw Santa

John and me on Santa's knee. I'm nursery-school age, around 4, with my Audrey Hepburn bangs. John is around six and a half. Would it have killed Santa to keep his eyes open? Soon a visit with the bearded one would be but a memory blip on our holiday calendar. Soon it would be all about Moses and Judah Maccabee, chocolate gelt and bitter herbs. But what little Jew doesn't have a least one of these Santa shots stashed away somewhere? It's right there on our punims: we thought this tubby dude was real. He had the costume and the beard and the ho, ho, ho. Plenty of proof to win us over. Back then, what more did we need to believe?