Christmas was a big deal at my house. Throughout December, every radio (one in each room) was tuned to the same station, promising no escape from that beautiful—though maddening, for some—collection of classic standards and contemporary holiday tunes. That little kid, still roaming the corridors of my psyche, remembers Dad sitting next to the radio, waiting patiently to hear each of his perennial favorites, while Mom baked cookies destined to be set upon festive red and green trays.
Read MoreI walk into Rafferty’s and approach the hostess desk, informing them that I have a meeting with Santa. I am pointed in his direction without much hesitation, and he isn't difficult to spot. He wears a traditional Santa hat, and his coat is draped over a chair next to him. We exchange a firm and welcoming handshake as I pull up my chair. I take in the details of his extravagant red and gold paisley vest and a vintage cream shirt, along with his red pants and bells on his boots. I am impressed with his attire.
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