In today's holiday-time blog, I'm sending you a video Christmas card - a dash cam Christmas light tour of Bridgeport's Main Street. Whether you live here -or  used to live here - I think you will  enjoy and appreciate the beauty of our special city. The video starts near the Bridgeport Municipal Building and heads east, ending at Oliverio's Ristorante. Please excuse the blur of the headlights. I'm going to try this again later this evening when there isn't as much traffic. Look for more driving tour videos throughout the week. Merry Christmas to all!

 

 

I would  also like to use today's blog space to pass along a story to you. I don’t even know who penned it, but I heard for the first time at the GFWC Woman’s Club of Bridgeport Christmas dinner last week. A member, Amy Coburn, read it for the club devotional for the evening. It’s called “The Christmas Coat” and I don’t even know who wrote it. But it’s a cute explanation to the commonly asked question: “Is there really a Santa Claus?”

I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was just a kid. I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she jeered. "Even dummies know that!"

 

My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her "world-famous" cinnamon buns. I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so. 

 

It had to be true. 

 

Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her everything. She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus?" She snorted...."Ridiculous! Don't believe it. That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad!! Now, put on your coat, and let's go."  "Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my second world-famous cinnamon bun. 

 

"Where" turned out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars.  That was a bundle in those days. "Take this money," she said, "and buy something for someone who needs it. I'll wait for you in the car. "Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's. 

 

I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself.  The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping. For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for. I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school, and the people who went to my church. 

 

I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's grade-two class.  Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out to recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn't have a cough; he didn't have a good coat. I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat! 

 

I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that.  "Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down.  "Yes, ma'am," I replied shyly. "It's for Bobby."  The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her about how Bobby really needed a good winter coat. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag, smiled again, and wished me a Merry Christmas.

 

That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible) in Christmas paper and ribbons and wrote, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it. Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker's house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially, one of Santa's helpers.