Letter from the North Pole, 1957

Posted on by M.K. Waller in Uncategorized

Lacking a fireplace, I mailed my letters to Santa Claus at the post office in downtown Fentress. My list of preferred gifts was always extensive. I knew I wouldn’t get everything I wanted, but there was no harm in asking.

One year Santa wrote back. As proof, I’m posting not only the letter he wrote, but the envelope as well. Judging from the postmark and the reference to Sputnik, I’d just turned six.

It takes a lot of stamps to get a letter from the North Pole to Texas.

It also helps when your Uncle Joe is the postmaster.

6 thoughts on “Letter from the North Pole, 1957”

  1. KATHY – I just read this letter and could see Crystal and Bill in each word!! I’ve never known two more loving parents. You were their pride and joy – and rightfully so. I know it was the same in your mind, too!

    Now, onward with my finger-pecking to whatever I can do arond here – NOT MUCH, THAT’S FOR SURE!! I’ll write sometime and leave everything “as is”..Oh well, at least I try!!

    Merry Christmas to you and David, Barbara

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    1. They were the light of my life, too. The Santa letter was written by Uncle Joe–I just noticed the ? after “Dear Kathy” (English teacher, can’t help it), but the whole thing is perfect–It isn’t easy to type anything when you have only one hand. My typing is horrid now; I forgive everything.

      The pecans are wonderful. I realized after they arrived that David can’t eat nuts any more, but that’s okay; I don’t mind. More for me. He can’t eat chocolate either. I’m sorry about the bans, but I can deal with them.

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  2. Still remember the smell of that post office. And learning to play washers in front “with the men.” Thanks for reminding me.

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    1. That smell was probably my rarely-bathed terrier, who hung around waiting to jump into Uncle Joe’s pickup and go to the farm. When I was a child, I loved sitting on the bench with the men and hearing about boll weevils and cotton prices. And Uncle Curt Meadow’s remarks about government and politics, which he read about all the time. The good old days, at least for Fentress kids.

      I think I know who you are, but at the risk of being rude, who are you? I love hearing from people who know the town from those days.

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  4. I was sure my mom had kept the letter but had no idea I would find it. One of the joys of moving. Most of my treasures are on paper or in photo albums. I gave away most of the china and crystal and so much else, but someone else is going to have to toss my sixth-grade book reports.

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