Dear Beloved Dad

A Real Letter

Dad's favorite: A Blueberry Pie

(With fresh blueberries he picked himself without 

eating one.)

Dear Beloved Dad, 

I don't know how I can keep our secret any longer. I've kept the secret that you're the real Santa Claus for 67 years!

But now I'm about to POP, Pop!

Not many daughters or sons have Santa for a Dad. If I do tell, however, there could be some sort of a revolt. After all, a few may feel I've received preferential treatment because we're kin and all.

And I cannot tell a lie being raised Catholic (as you know, because you paid for it).

If I'm asked if I've received preferential treatment, I would have to give a most affirmative "Yes!"

From my doll house days when I snuck out and caught you assembling on Christmas when I was five, to my little, mint green, Nash Rambler you bought for me in my freshman year in college--I've wanted for nothing.

When I messed up, there you were. When the starving artist wasn't just on a diet, you paid back taxes (which would have broken any ordinary back, I must say).

When mother flew up we stayed strong together; our most serious fight was over that damn diamond broach mom buried in dried beans to throw thieves off their trail. But it was you who came with flowers and a enclosure card which read: We must keep our love for your mother above all things."

I saved it, but not as perfectly as I should have. It's a little blotched.

I guess Hill Haven Assisted Living won't be too surprised if word leaks out that one of their long-term residents is the real St. Nick.  Because you hadn't been there a week, when the co-owner told me: He's a treasure.

And being moral and upright, from my heart I say: You are beyond a treasure.

It's said you pick your parents, so at this point I figure: I'm a genius!

Anyone with a heart as big as yours normally doesn't live to be 100. But God has granted you a special dispensation because of all your unselfish acts.

You're a Peach; You're the Berries. You're the most perfect blueberry pie that you and a bear picked from the same patch. 

How God has blessed me, blessed my brother and I--for giving us our Santa who gifts all year every year into our tomorrows. 

Here's a forehead kiss and my undying love. 

Merry Christmas, Pie