When we got together for family visits my Mother always took the pictures. This was strange as she always took pictures at eye level and she was 4'10". I now look at entire albums, recognizing aunts, uncles and cousins by their clothes and body shape since they are all headless.

On a Christmas Eve when I was about seven or eight, Santa nearly scared the life out of me by tapping on a window shortly after we arrived home from grandma's house. I screamed and burst into tears which only stopped after he came inside and started pulling toys from his large white bag. It was Uncle Wayne behind the beard and, although I didn't immediately figure it out, a couple of things did seem suspicious. One was the request for a kiss on the cheek (an Uncle Wayne trademark) before he left and the other was his leaving the empty bag behind. I later learned it was one of Mom's sheets she had sewn into a bag and which, after she secretly removed the stitches, I probably slept on many times in the coming years.

I remember the house and visiting family but I do not remember Santa visiting! The house is still there and will always be "Home Place" to me! Thanks Cuz.

In my house, we celebrated Christmas Eve like the Swedes (because we were). No one ever dressed up as the Swedish Santa, Tomte, but my grandfather for a few years used to excuse himself during dinner, and while he was gone, a mysterious pile of packages appeared on the back porch. Many years later during a snowstorm, there was a knock at the door. There was Santa needing to use the phone because his "sleigh" was stuck in the snow. Thanks for the good memories and for all you do at Shorpy. I look forward to viewing the latest every day.