There was this one Christmas eve. I was probably about eight. We had our neighborhood over to partake in holiday shenanigans, which consisted of eating and drinking too much while the kids ran around.
The radio was blaring Christmas songs, when the announcer came on and said, “We’re tracking Santa on radar. We’ll be doing that all night, and let you know of his progress.” His voice was serious, not jokey, and I felt a bolt of the oldest-and-biggest-lie-in-the-world’s utter magic course through my body. Santa was coming. He was on radar! The radio guy said so!
This memory is like a little film clip that plays every December. Some radio D.J. gave it to me almost 50 years ago, and if I knew who he was, I ‘d go to his house and thank him for one of the best damn gifts I’ve ever received.