Here I am in all my snowsuit glory meeting Santa in 1952. I imagine it was in Harrisburg, PA. I'm entranced and this probably led to my very long belief in the old fellow. Wait, I still believe when I go outside on a crisp Christmas Eve and look up into the dark sky and see something moving. Okay, it's just a plane or satellite, I know that. I prefer to imagine it's Santa in his sleigh. That makes me smile. Planes and satellites not so much.