I believe

When I was a kid, Santa left his gifts in our stockings. If it didn't fit, we didn't expect Santa to bring it. My parents gave us some pretty nice gifts, and we knew they stayed up late setting out gifts that weren't under the tree the night before. Then they went to bed, and then eight tiny reindeer, and down the chimney, and Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.

Some years, Santa and the elves put lovely gifts that were not expensive. One very prosperous year, the North Pole was able to procure ski passes. One year, Santa visited the Island of Misfit Toys and brought them to us - this was one of the few exceptions to his rule of stockings. (That would be like finding great toys at D.I. or another second-hand store. Out of box and maybe even with signs of previous use.)

Santa did happen to enjoy the same kinds of cookies and donuts as my father. Great palates agree? Our fireplace had a door that latched from the outside, so even getting down the chimney wasn't enough of a trick. Then there were the more obvious gaps in conventional knowledge and science that might limit the reality of Santa Claus.

As a kid, I never believed in the Easter Bunny. Never gave that myth the slightest shade of credibility, though I enjoyed a good Easter Egg hunt each year. The tooth fairy wasn't long for belief. Jack Frost... it took me years to even realize there was supposed to be a mythical being in charge of changing seasons and changing colors. Mother Nature? Same.

I never asked about Santa Claus. I never wanted to. Doubt fosters disenchantment, after all. Long after reason and sense indicated the truth of the process, I still insisted on believing. As a late teen I gave in; but didn't breathe a word of what I knew.

I love the magic of Christmas. I think my folks did a pretty good job of making the magic work, without confusing us about the difference between believing in Santa and believing in God.

I hope to do as well.

Maybe that's why I like Disneyland so much: I think Disneyland fits in the same part of my psyche as Santa Claus. The place that can believe in magic and continue to be awed and wonder at illusion. It's the part of me that wishes on stars and looks for rainbows. Just because these things aren't actual, doesn't mean they aren't real.