J.R. Johnson

Christmas Eve, when Santa is racing around the world distributing presents, seems like an excellent time to think back to the experience of the holiday as a young child. If Christmas was part of your family tradition, do you remember what it was like to believe in Santa Claus? 

I do, and despite the ever-present pressures of reality, that sense of wonder is part of why I write.

Making Sense of Santa, as a Science Reporter and a Parent ‹ Literary Hub

“When I was a kid, did you try to get me to believe in Santa?” I recently asked my parents. My father, a mathematician, scoffed. “Of course not,” he said. “We told you he was a mythological being that represented generosity and good cheer.”

Still, every December, my mother hung stockings above the chimney with care. And every Christmas Eve, she made sure cookies were left on a festively decorated plate, as though she truly believed St. Nick would soon be there.

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