Holiday Memories: Santa knocks, makes a believer out of brother

I have seen many Christmases go by. But one that I think back on, as the most thrilling day of my life was Christmas Eve in 1924 in Joliet, Ill.

My father had come home from working on the railroad and wasn't home too often. To have him home on Christmas was the best day of our lives. We knew that gifts were hidden all over the house. My brother kept telling me that there was no Santa, so I would cry and my mother would scold him. Finally my parents had had enough and ordered us to bed.

There was a knock on the door. There stood Santa all dressed up. He handed up a big red apple and walked away in the snow. My mother said they never knew who it was. I know I got the thrill of my life never to be forgotten. My brother believed in Santa three more years.