No Santa Claus

 
     My husband Tommy is a Core Sounder.  Born and raised on the shores of Core Sound in Carteret County, he will quickly tell you that he's married a "woodser" from "across the sound".  Yes, those Core Sounder's really have a way with words. Their brogue is so salty, sometimes I even have trouble figuring out what they are talking about. 
     Even though Tommy will calls me a "woodser" (that is a Core Sounder's term for people who live over in Pamlico County, in the woods or as they would say, "across the sound"), Tommy has some "woodser" in him too!  His great great grandparents Lewis Tull and Lizzie Williamson are buried in the McGowan's Cemetery in Lowland.  He also has relatives on the Island; Uncle Sam Williamson's folks.
   When Lewis Tull and Lizzie Williamson's children were old enough to 'strike out' on their own, their  oldest son Sam chose to stay on Goose Creek Island. Their second son Tull went to Carteret County.  Tull is the grandfather of my mother-in-law Helen Williamson Beacham.  Tull is also the father of
Clifford Lewis "Sonny" Williamson who is the famed coastal "fish house liar", storyteller extraordinaire and author of many coastal heritage books.  Sonny resides in the Carteret County community of Marshallberg.
    Several years ago, Sonny completed a book about his life growing up in Down East Carteret County.  In the book Salt Spots for Breakfast, Sonny told a story about Christmas.  The story warmed my heart as I was taken back to the late 1930's in the little seaside village of Sea Level.

From Salt Spots for Breakfast by Sonny Williamson

     Life was pretty good back then.  Good until Tullie got in one of his teasing moods. "NO SANTA CLAUS" he called out over and over again.  I ran all the way to the Post Office to Aunt Josie the day Tullie dropped that bomb on me.  "There's no Santa Claus", he jeered.  "Even little dummies like you know that."  My brother was only seven years older'n me, so, "How much does he know anyway?"  I was thinking and hoping that Santa never came to see him.
     Aunt Josie was a lot older than Mama and she never had any kids so she was like the grandmother I never had.  She was not gushy, never had been.  I fled to her because I knew she would be straight with me. I also knew that the truth went down a whole lot easier when taken with one of her famous fig-stuffed light rolls.  I also knew that she would be at the Post Office, she was always there, that was her job, in back of the building was her home.  Between bites I told her everything. As usual she was ready for me.
     "NO SANTA CLAUS!?"  She snorted. "Ridiculous! Don't you believe it.  That rumor has been going around for years and it makes me mad, just plain mad.  Now put your coat back on, and let's go."
     "Go, go where Aunt Josie?" I asked.
     "Where" turned out to be Mr. Tine's General Store, Oyster Factory and Fish House, the only store in Sea Level that had a little bit of just about everything.  As we walked through its doors, Aunt Josie handed me five dollars.  I had never seen that much money in one place before. I guess I looked awful funny standing in the middle of the store with my mouth hanging open.
     "Take this money and buy something for someone who needs it.  I'll wait down by the candy counter."  Then she turned and walked away.  I was only six years old.  I'd often gone shopping with Mama and sometimes with Daddy, but never had shopped for anything all by myself.
     All of the sudden the store seemed big and crowded.  I knew many of the older men sitting in a circle around the big pot bellied stove, but they even looked different and little frightful.  For a few minutes I just stood there, wondering what to buy and who on earth to buy it for.  Suddenly I thought of Bobby Decker.  He sat right behind me in Ms. Lois' first grade class.  Bobby didn't have a coat.  I knew that because he never went out at recess during the winter.  He always said he didn't like to play silly girl games but I knew different.  I fingered the five-dollar bill with growing excitement.  I would buy Bobby Decker a coat.  I settled on a red corduroy plaid one that had a hood to it.  It looked real warm.  He would like that.
     That evening after supper, Aunt Josie helped me wrap the coat in Christmas paper and ribbons, and to write "To Bobby - From Santa" on it.  She said that Santa always insisted on secrecy and for it to have the special Christmas Spirit we could never tell.  Then she walked with me over to Bobby Decker's house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever one of Santa's secret helpers.  She and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by the front door.
     When everything was clear Aunt Josie gave me a nudge.  "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going."  I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his steps, pounded on his door and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Aunt Josie.  From there we watched Bobby come to the door, look all around and pick up his present from Santa.
     Sixty-five years hasn't dimmed the thrill of that moment shivering, both from cold and excitement, crouched beside Aunt Josie, hid in Bobby Decker's bushes.
     Later that night, as I lay snuggled in my feather bed where Mama had lovingly tucked me, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Aunt Josie said they were. Ridiculous.
     Santa was alive and well and I was on his team.  Still am.