Santa has followed me around the world
Scott POWELL

There has never been any question in my mind about whether Santa Claus exists.

Even at the age of 35, I am still a true believer in the jolly old fellow who lives at the North Pole. I have seen way too much evidence in my short life to confirm that Santa Claus is alive and well.

My older brother Greg was the first to attempt to plant seeds of doubt in my mind about St. Nick. All kids reach a certain age where curiosity leads to snooping for presents and investigating just how Santa Claus decides what houses to visit.

Someone is delivering and reading the thousands of letters sent to the North Pole. Children can now take a train ride on the "Polar Express," a popular Christmasthemed children's book.

Santa Claus still leaves notes with presents, empty milk glasses and cookie crumbs on plates by the fireplace.

I have yet to see any reindeer. But I haven't exactly climbed on any ladders to check a roof for any hoof marks that Dancer or Dasher might have left behind Christmas morning.

Santa Claus has found me in some odd places over the years.

The strangest place would have to be a pension hotel near the St. Anton ski lodge in Austria for the Christmas of 1983.

Our family lived in Germany for 14 months while my dad took a sabbatical from Clemson University to collaborate on scientific research with an English colleague in a German lab.

We went skiing that Christmas in St. Anton.

My 11-year-old child's mind began to wonder if Santa Claus was aware there had been a temporary change of address and would remember to stop in Austria. The stockings were hung in the hotel room with care, and St. Nick somehow found his way there.

St. Anton is where I learned how to ski down a mountain and feel reasonably confident about not falling. I even ate French fries with mayonnaise for the first time. Yuck!

This popular Austrian ski resort started a decade where skiing in Colorado and Utah were a regular part of Christmas holiday plans.

My skiing adventures ended when I graduated from college.

I survived running into a tree on a ski slope called "El Diablo." This devilishly steep slope was filled with nothing but large bumps in the hill that skiers call "moguls."

I methodically worked my way down this black diamond expert ski run until I ran into one too many moguls for my own good. There wasn't enough room to turn so my only option was to fall and hope my momentum slowed before hitting the tree at full impact.

I saw stars. It was a sensation like the little birdies found swirling above a cartoon character's head - not the stars that come upon a midnight clear for Christmas carols.

Santa Claus somehow always seemed to know exactly where we were staying on the ski slopes.

My belief in Santa Claus has remained intact over the years. There are occasional moments when Saint Nick's writing starts to look familiar or holiday plans would place my family in different parts of the country.

There is a network of Santa's Elves out there. The Elves come in many forms.

Santa's Elves are behind the numerous holiday fundraisers, school and community Christmas projects to help needy children enjoy Christmas. They are the ones working late at night to assemble bicycles, train sets and dollhouses for little boys and girls on Christmas morning.

The Christmas spirit has brought church groups together from all areas since 2005 to spend part of their holiday season to rebuild homes damaged in the Gulf Coast by Hurricane Katrina.

My Christmas wish is Santa Claus will make his own list longer in the North Pole so fewer children wake up without any stockings and presents to open.

Scott Powell (spowell@gaffneyledger.com) covers education issues for The Gaffney Ledger.