Yes, Santa came to Sundridge. But more importantly, my aunts, uncles and cousins did too

As an eight-year-old, I spent a lot of time in my letter to Santa trying to convince him that I was deserving. “I have tried to be good. I make my bed and set the table” is how I began the note in a beautiful cursive that would go on to win me the penmanship award in elementary school.

At the midway point of the page-long correspondence, I reminded him that “My mom thinks we’re good most of the time.”

And just to make sure the jolly big guy got the message, I signed off with a “P.S. I’ve tried to be good.”

In between, I asked for a “pickpocket camera” — pretty sure I wasn’t suggesting the elves steal one but likely employed a malapropism for the coveted, pocket-sized Brownies of the era — and a Little People toy set for my brother who was obviously too busy being six to write his own letter.

I also gave Santa explicit instructions on where to find us. That Christmas we would be staying at a hotel near my grandparents in Sundridge, Ont., and I wanted to make sure that, should I be found deserving, there would be no mix-up on where the presents were to be delivered.

I’ve been privileged to have many wonderful Christmases, but this was one wrapped in a Hallmark card. A whole lot closer to the North Pole than Toronto, we were socked in with snow. Mom’s two sisters, their spouses and all our cousins also made the trek north and, embracing the weather, we all clamoured onto a sleigh ride.

Along the wooded path, Mom jumped off and ran behind, causing my little heart to race in fear that she would be left behind as the horses quickened. But like the marvel she was in my eyes, she picked up her pace and leapt onto the back of the sleigh. Everyone laughed.

Awakening that 1974 Christmas morning in our hotel room, my parents assured me they had heard the patter of reindeer on the roof that night. And as Dad drew back the curtains and beckoned me to look out, I swear I could see the imprint of hooves on the snow-covered parking lot.

What followed was a day of chaotic merriment in my grandparents’ packed home, a day full of food, togetherness, candy and hot chocolate and, yes, presents.

Did my brother and I get what we asked Santa for? I don’t recall.

What I didn’t know then was that the biggest gift of that Christmas would be the mental snapshot it created for me, a memory of a childhood filled with care and love. It was a Christmas that felt magical.

It’s a feeling I still chase every holiday season, not only for myself, but for my own children.

And it is why I also donate to the Toronto Star’s annual Santa Claus Fund campaign. The goal this year is to raise $1.5 million to provide gift boxes to 50,000 underprivileged children.

Every dollar helps, so please consider making a contribution.

For when one of the boxes arrives on the doorstep of a family in need — one that might be truly far away from home and without the support of extended relations — it could represent more than just a gift of a book or a toy. It could help make a child’s Christmas magical.

And every kid is deserving of that.

GOAL: $1.5 million

How to donate

With your gift, you can help provide holiday gift boxes that inspire hope and joy to 50,000 underprivileged children.

Online: To donate by Visa, Mastercard or Amex, use our secure form at thestar.com/santaclausfund

By cheque: Mail to The Toronto Star Santa Claus Fund, One Yonge St., Toronto, ON M5E 1E6

By phone: Call 416-869-4847

The Star does not authorize anyone to solicit on its behalf. Tax receipts will be issued.

To volunteer: scfvolunteer@thestar.ca

Janet Hurley is a Toronto-based staff reporter for the Star covering culture, education and societal trends. Reach her via email: jhurley@thestar.ca