Bev’s Letter to Santa

I wish everyone delighted holidays and safe travel during this annual festive season, and please, take time for yourself afterward to enjoy the simpler things in life. If we move too fast, we vanish and miss the holidays’ true meaning.

Let us go back to when we were younger, say around elementary grades. Did you ever write a letter to Santa? I know I did, and I even insisted that my mother mail it to Santa’s workshop at the North Pole. I am trying to remember how I knew the address, or maybe my mom made it up, but either way, she would take me to the Post Office to mail my letter.

The thought of knowing that Santa would receive my letter was overwhelming! I was pleading my case of being a good boy all year and presented a list of things I deemed adequate for my good behavior. But we all know the truth. After Thanksgiving, I was only on good behavior when I knew I would be writing Santa soon.

My sister, Beverly, turned six years old in August of 1954 and already had an idea of what she would like to ask Santa for Christmas. But she didn’t know that our father, Tony, already had a plan for Santa to fly into the Air-Park.

Bev handing her letter to Santa. It that a Bell 47?
News clipping from the Courier Express, December 10, 1954.

Tony has her write a letter to Santa, where he makes a copy without her knowing and sends it to the local newspaper for a feature article. He was always thinking of ideas to promote his airport and be the best father to his little girl. Done and done, and he couldn’t wait to see her reaction!

Bev’s hand written letter to Santa.

The newspaper article mentioned that Bev loves to fly. How is that possible? She’s only six years old. Well, Tony adds some extra cushions to her seat so she can reach the yoke. Very intuitive but not recommended with today’s FAA regulations. Completely different times, my friend.

Notice the four cushion backs Tony added so Bev could fly!

I hope this post brings back memories of your childhood or how your children wrote letters to Santa and got to see him. I never liked to sit on his lap at a photo shoot, but I had no problem writing him a letter. He always smelled like cheese and not the good kind. Whatever happened to all of those letters the Post Office received over the years? My guess is as good as yours!

Again, Happy Holidays, and I’ll see you in the next post!