Well there is one Christmas that stands out for me. My first bike, and the one I learned to ride without training wheels, was a second hand one. It had a little rust and my dad had painted it. One Christmas morning, and I can remember it so vividly in my mind, I came downstairs and there was a gorgeous red bike sitting next to the tree with the lights reflecting off the shiny metal! That was for me a "magical moment."

When I was still of the age to believe in Santa, every year we left a cup of coffee and a banana for him (unlike my friends who left milk and cookies). My dad always said he must get tired of the same old thing at each house. I was always so excited to see the peel in the morning. It wasn't until a couple of years later that I looked back at how similar Santa's tastes were to Dad's. It seemed that they both loved coffee and bananas.