After staring at a blank post for a couple of minutes, I asked Joe what I should write about. He looked at me and said, "Write about your first visit to Santy Claus."
Well, I kinda already did that. So instead of writing about my first visit, I shall wander down the dusty roads of my memories and talk about a few other visits to St. Nick.
First up, 1956. here's my older brother and I with yet another pervy-looking Santa. This guy looks like he just woke up after a three-day bender! At least my brother didn't have to sit on his lap. I was four years old here, swathed in my snowsuit. (I hated that damn snowsuit.) Come to think of it, that snowsuit probably provided a layer of protection from who-knows-what.
Next, let's leap ahead three years to 1959. My brother has exited the scene, but there's my younger sister on the left. At least this Santa looks benevolent and jolly! I do remember that plaid dress; I thought it was quite chic with its fancy bib in the front there. I'm glad Mom let us take off our coats! By this time I was sporting the ponytail that I would keep through fourth grade while my sister got the pixie cut.
Finally, we fly into the late 70s, when I was still clowning around. I managed to get a holiday gig at a local, failing mall. I'd walk around and juggle, eat fire, and do some solo clown gags every couple hours in the center of the mall. Santa was a nice young guy, so we kind of struck up a friendship, us against mall management. Naturally, I had to have my picture taken with Santa.