Editor’s note: Fred Shonk is turning his column over to Stuart, his therapy dog.
 
A couple of weeks ago my human dad, Fred, and I were at South Grove Intermediate School, where we were going to have some really cool students read stories to us. We were visiting with the office staff just before walking to the library.

All of a sudden I noticed several humans gathering around us. I heard one of the ladies speaking about a Christmas miracle that she had witnessed. I sat, looked up and listened.

The story was shared by Dee Dee Horen, the school’s curriculum/instruction coordinator. She was talking about a corn snake that belonged to her 10-year-old son, Rylan. When I heard the word “snake” I started paying more attention. The snake’s name is Corny, and he lives in a fish tank in the finished basement of the Horen family home.

Corny showed up missing in late August. No one had a clue what had happened to him. It was a total mystery. The house was searched, and everyone was on the lookout for any sign of Corny.

On the Saturday after Thanksgiving when the family was gathering some Christmas decorations from a basement closet, Corny was found alive and seemingly healthy, albeit thirsty. There were no signs of where he had resided while missing.

The discovery and return to his glass home turned out to be Christmas miracle that was being explained. As I was listening I was thinking that the only other time that I had ever heard the word “corny” was when my human mom, Lyn, was explaining to some of her friends the type of stories that my human dad likes to tell.
As we were listening about this miracle, we also learned about several other animals that live with the Horens. There are two geckos (I like watching the Geico gecko on TV commercials), two bearded dragons, which look like geckos with beards and four turtles that resemble geckos with mobile housing.

There is also one of my own kind living there. I’m curious how this wonderful, kind, caring dog gets along with those other creatures.

As we moved about the school that day, we discovered several staff members who were not all that impressed with the recent miracle. I’m glad Corny is home and safe. I’m also glad he already has a forever home and is loved.
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Have a happy New Year!

During the years that I remember Santa visiting our family’s house, we lived on Madison Avenue in what is now the Longacre Bar & Grill. We had one of those full-size cardboard Coca-Cola Santas that we put in our living room. The smell of the freshly cut Christmas tree was also a part of the season.

During most of those years our dad had a seven-day-a-week milk route. He picked up milk from farms and delivered it to the dairy to be pasteurized and bottled for home delivery.

He left the house early each morning and was home around 2:30 p.m. My sister, Kathy, and I didn’t see the adult logic in waiting until midafternoon to see what Santa brought us, so we always had an early morning Christmas.

We gathered around the tree in our pajamas to open presents and share our excitement about the wonderful gifts that Santa had left. After we unwrapped the gifts, Dad grabbed a quick breakfast and was on the road to collect milk.

I remember always receiving some gifts that we could enjoy quietly for a few hours on Christmas morning. I’m sure I fell back asleep a few times when playing with some toy cars or reading a book while lying on the floor near the tree.

When my age reached double digits I started hearing rumors from friends and classmates to the effect that there was no Santa Claus. It took me a long time to buy into such a shocking idea. I’m sure that I quizzed my parents as to the possibility that Santa was a myth.

I started making a quick search of cabinets and closets to see if I could discover something that later would be a gift from Santa. The next year I found a beautiful sled hidden in our basement. We had a small hill on the side of our house, and I was sure I was going to have a blast. 

That night before Christmas was beautiful because it had snowed quite a bit. We had made our annual Christmas visit to our mom’s parents’ house for Christmas Eve. I was so excited during our ride home from their house and had trouble falling to sleep that night. I kept thinking about my new sled and the fun I was going to have.

The next thing I remember was being awakened to join everyone to open presents. I leaped out of bed and dashed into the living room to search for my sled. I remember scampering past a beautiful bicycle and paying no attention to it. My mind was screaming, “SLED! SLED!” 

“Where is my sled?” I shouted, but no one had any knowledge of a sled.

I was asked to get a grip and was guided back to the bicycle that Santa had brought me. I could get a paper route, and my bicycle would be a big help.

That was a special Christmas. 

A few years later my dad told me a story. He and Mom had noticed me searching through the house, basement, garage and storage building. They figured I might be looking for hidden Christmas presents. He told me that one of his milk route customers had a son about my age. The sled I saw was for him; my bike has been stored at their house.
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I remember having to put some of those same plans into effect when my son, Mark, believed in Santa.
My wife, Lynn, and Stuart, our therapy dog, and I hope you have a wonderful Christmas and always share your great memories.

My wife, Lyn, and I really like where we live. Our home has been in our family since it was built. We have always enjoyed the horse farm that is just north and east of our back yard. 

The farm has changed ownership a couple of times over the years. It is now owned by the Soruco family, which has expanded the operation to include having their own horses, boarding horses for other owners and providing riding lessons.

One of their fields is directly behind our property and the easement that is between our yard and the Southport Equestrian Center. It is so special to watch their horses run and play.

The animal that I have seemed to get most acquainted with is named Charlie O’Donkey. I’ve been told that he is about 8 years old, and I’m sure that he views himself as a midlevel manager of the center’s daily affairs. It is so cool to have coffee on our patio while listening to Charlie as he loudly explains to others his need for breakfast.

Last year, shortly after Christmas, Michelle Soruco told me that Charlie had spent a few hours at the Kroger at Madison and Edgewood avenues. He, Michelle and her children, Keith and Lindsey, and Mikkalya Atkins, were there to support the Salvation Army’s Red Kettle campaign. They were successful and were invited back. 

On Saturday, Michelle, the children, Donkey Santa (Charlie) and Mrs. Pony Claus (Cali-girl) visited with folks entering and leaving the newly remodeled store. With the weather being so pleasant, there was a large volume of customers.

Since Pony Claus, a miniature horse, had never experienced anything like this before, it took her a while to get used to all of the attention. The store provided several bags of chopped carrots for folks to feed the animals, both of whom seemed adept at gently lifting a carrot from the open hand of people ages 6 to 86. 

Several employees came to visit with everyone and meet Santa Donkey and Pony Claus. I spoke to a couple of the managers, and they were excited about the store’s new look. They wanted to thank their loyal customers for hanging in there during all the work.

Donkey Claus mastered the skill of ringing the bell to attract folks to the kettle. I noticed that he seemed to quickly release the bell and move toward anyone holding a carrot. I think he tried to tell me that it was difficult to eat a carrot with a small bell lodged between his teeth.

I’m sure that they had a good time raising money for the Salvation Army. I spent about an hour hanging around and watching the festivities, and I can tell you that they were a big hit.

Many pictures were taken and lots of donations were made. People young and old enjoyed their time spent with Donkey Claus and Pony Claus.

I was told that they raised $400 in four hours, which is normally the amount collected in a day. They asked me to thank everyone who stopped to make a donation and give them a carrot.
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They are already looking forward to next year.

I have shared stories about Peggy and Walter Hart, who were great friends of my wife, Lyn and myself. Those stories still make us smile and laugh, even though the Harts – who were special people in our lives – died in recent years. 

I’d like to share some Peggy stories. Peggy was the building manager where I had my first office after moving back from Michigan in the late 1980. She assisted Tom Jackson in his business and in leasing space in the Jackson Office Building on Main Street in Greenwood.

One afternoon Peggy came into my small office and asked if I had any plans for the evening. She explained that she was a member of a euchre club and they were having a party and were one person short. I accepted the invitation to play.

Upon arriving I was announced as the substitute player at the all-girls euchre club. I didn’t recall Peggy explaining the all-girls part to me earlier, but it worked out wonderfully. I met this gal named Lyn. Thanks, Peggy.

A few years later she showed up carrying a Santa suit. Peggy explained that her mother had made the suit for Peggy’s dad to wear. I was aware that Peggy had lost both of her parents a few years earlier. I could tell that she was emotional.

She asked me if I would enjoy putting the suit back into action. She pulled it out of the plastic dry-cleaners bag, and I touched the beautiful, velvet suit. It came complete with boots, the belt and facial hair. Did you know that official velvet Santa pants do not have pockets? He doesn’t need ID, keys, money or a driver’s license.

 I started using it that season. Our grandsons were fairly young but smart and inquisitive. I was sure that I wouldn’t be able to get close to any of them because they would recognize my voice or something. Lyn and I would drive to their house, and Lyn would go inside. I would wait a few minutes and then wave to them through a window. An adult from the house would deliver a letter to Santa to me, and I would vanish down the street.

I established a yearly route and visited homes, parties, offices and schools. I always looked forward to the weeks following Thanksgiving. Because I didn’t solicit Santa visits, as families grew older and younger families discovered a Santa that was a family friend. I finally hung up the suit and began reliving all those memories in my mind each year.

A couple of years ago I had an idea. I contacted Peggy Hart’s daughter and told her that I had her grandfather’s Santa suit. I explained to her that I had used it for a few years and I was hoping that she would accept it back into her family. 

We connected and I returned the suit. For a while I really missed seeing it hanging in the closet. Now I smile when I see that it is missing because it is helping families enjoy the Christmas season.

I have been smiling since I started pecking on the keyboard. Walter and Peggy always had that effect on me.