I remember a Christmas when I was very young, maybe 7 or 8? I was setting out cookies and milk on the fireplace hearth for Santa, when Dad (sitting in his recliner next to the fireplace) made the remark, “You know what Santa would really want? A beer with those cookies.” (In the background, I believe I heard an “Oh Clark!”)
He went on to explain that by the time Santa reached our house, that he would have had so many cookies and glasses of milk that he would be tired of the same old thing, and that by putting out a beer we would be special and would get special gifts.
Well, of course I believed him, it was DAD. So from then on, I left out a beer (usually a bottle of Dad’s beloved Schoenling) and cookies. Dad was apparently right, because the beer was always gone on Christmas morning!
