Like most young children, I was a firm believer in Santa Claus.
Each Christmas Eve, I would set out a tray with milk and fresh cookies for Santa, and carrots for his reindeer. I always made sure my neatly written wish list of desired presents was left somewhere in plain sight nearby.
Unlike most children, though, I was stubbornly determined to prove once and for all that Santa Claus was real.
Oh, Mom and Dad did their best to ease my nagging concerns. On the drive home from Christmas Eve Mass, they would point to the starry sky and encourage me to look for the lights on Santa’s sleigh. I remember pressing my nose to the cold glass car window, searching for any sign of Old St. Nick.
But despite my parents’ promise that Santa Claus was indeed real, I needed to prove it for myself.
Penned a Letter to Santa
So every year, along with the cookies, milk, carrots and wish list, I would write Santa a letter. One letter in particular stands out in my memory.
After making my usual request for presents, and assuring Santa that I had been nice all year—well, most of the year, anyway—to my younger brother, Jack, I asked Santa Claus for a snippet of evidence that would without a doubt confirm his existence.
I asked Santa to leave behind a little piece of his snow-white beard. In hindsight, it was quite the clever demand from an inquisitive 5-year-old.
Imagine my surprise when I came home from Christmas Eve Mass that year to find the cookies and milk gone, a few orange shreds of leftover carrots…and a tuft of curly white fuzz lying on the table.
I was thrilled! I finally had the unmistakable proof I was looking for—a tiny curl from Santa’s beard. From that moment on, I was certain Santa was real.
Years later, I learned from Mom and Dad they had “helped” Santa by snipping a piece of white fur from the underbelly of “Tasha”, our family house cat.
Looking back, I should really thank my parents for doing their best to make my childhood so fun and memorable and for encouraging my imagination.
Discovered a Family Treasure
As all kids do, I grew up and eventually learned the truth about Santa. But several years ago, as I was preparing to go to college, the whimsical magic of St. Nick once again filled my heart when I uncovered a special family treasure.
I was helping Mom and Dad clean out storage boxes on our farm near Rodman, when I stumbled across a box containing a real-life Santa story.
Inside the box was a faded red Santa Claus suit. My parents told me the outfit belonged to my grandpa Ralph Banwart, who passed away before I was born.
My curiosity was piqued. Just as I needed to prove the existence of the “real” Santa when I was a youngster, I was eager to hear stories about Grandfather Santa and unravel the mystery behind the suit.
Left Grandma Holding the Baby
According to Dad, Grandpa Ralph was a “full-service” Santa. Every Christmas, Grandpa would attend the Rodman Fire Department holiday celebration dressed in his Santa suit to entertain children and pass out goodie bags.
The year Dad was born was no exception. Around 7 p.m. on December 21, Grandpa Ralph and Grandma Dorothy Banwart welcomed my dad into the world. There was one problem though—Grandpa was scheduled to play Santa in town about a half hour later.
So Grandpa spent a few minutes with Grandma, congratulated her on a successful delivery and dashed quick-as-a-wink into Rodman to fulfill his Santa duties. He really enjoyed his role, and just couldn’t let the children of the community down.
I learned that Grandpa must have portrayed a pretty convincing Santa Claus to little children, because one year his own daughter didn’t even recognize him when dressed in his red suit.
Dad’s sister, Patsy, had gone into town to sit on Santa’s lap at the Christmas celebration. Afterwards, she commented to her mother, “Santa has shoes just like Dad!”… never suspecting that the man behind the white beard was her father.
Brought Joy to Little Neighbors
Dad told me that Grandpa also enjoyed making rounds as Santa throughout our rural neighborhood – often making believers out of wide-eyed children at family Christmas parties during the holiday season.
One year, he made a surprise stop at the Harry and Carol Bonnstetter farm near Whittemore to visit their sick son Rudy, who was unable to make it to town to see Santa and pick up his goodie bag.
Grandpa could get creative about his arrivals, too. Whenever he landed at the Jerry and Rita Thatcher farm, just down the road from ours, he would move the straw around the yard that was put out for the reindeer, then sneak up to a window or make noise on the roof to surprise their kids.
Grandpa also must have had a hankering for pecan pie, because Rita would bake one for him each year in return for his Santa services – at Grandpa’s request.
Sneaked Past the Watch Dog
My favorite story about Grandpa playing Santa was shared by Georgie Elbert, who babysat my brother and me for many years when we were little.
Georgia recalls a December night when she and four young children were baking Christmas cookies while her husband was gone for the evening.
She explains that Grandpa must have parked his car on the road and sneaked past their dog “Greta”, because the loyal Doberman always notified the family with loud barking whenever there was a visitor on the farm.
“My kitchen was a mess with stacks of pans and dishes from baking and decorating cookies,” says Georgia. “We looked up from the kitchen table, and there was Santa standing in the entryway. We were so busy with the cookies that we never heard the dog bark or any knock on the door.”
According to Georgia, her children were so surprised and taken aback by Santa’s magical appearance, the expressions on their faces were priceless.
“My kids talked about that night forever,” she remembers fondly. “If there was any doubt about Santa being real, his visit immediately made them believers. It cemented their belief in Santa Claus for quite a long time.”
The Magic Lives On
As hard as I tried as a child, it was difficult for me to prove Santa’s existence. I had to rely on my imagination to believe.
Now as a young adult and having never known my Grandpa Ralph, I again can only imagine what he was like when he donned the old Santa suit I found stored away in a box.
But thanks to stories shared by my parents and acquaintances who knew Grandpa, I know, and believe, that the character he portrayed was real.
For me, Grandpa Ralph was the real Santa. He embodied the spirit and charm of the make-believe character – and made Christmas magic come to life for so many.
I’m grateful for the way Grandpa touched the lives of my family, neighbors and friends. He left behind special memories with others that have helped me understand his joy-filled life.
Grandpa Ralph, a real-life Santa legend, has made me a believer again.