It Must Be Santa!

What else would explain all those presents?

BY KAY SOMMERS FALERIOS SANTA MARGARITA, CA
OUR LIVES

On Christmas Eve 1946, my brother and I were in bed. Our folks had put out all the gifts—from aunts, uncles, neighbors and Santa—and arranged them neatly under the tree before my mother and her friend left for midnight Mass. Dad, a sound sleeper, went...

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