25 ...

Mrs. Volpe, with her long white hair wrapped back in a bun at the nape of her neck, had just informed us {via that mouth decked out in holiday cheer pink} that the elves had invaded the classroom as she walked us in from the playground as school began 3 December, 1990.  There were footprints and sparkly sites and candy canes and little notes in each out our boxes.  Kim and I ran to our boxes on our tip-toes and with a high pitched 'No way!' But Mrs. Volpe was not lying to us.  The elves had truly invaded class 105, tucked in the northeast corner of Lake Bluff Elementary school.  The Christmas season had begun.

For the entire month we wrote back and forth to our elves, careful with our cursive for our Christmas lists, minding our grammar as we described our families and our houses in detail so that they could pass the information on to The Big Guy, behaving like perfect little angels as they might be hiding in the tiles in the ceiling or behind a bush at recess.  It was magical and it was real.

My elf was named Larry.  He was shorter than most of the elves but worked the fastest with the hammer when creating the toys up at the north pole.  He could be found in his spare time at the theatre, Pole Performers Playhouse {now there is a bit more humor in that name but at 7 my innocent mind let it all exist without questioning}, he loved to sing and play on stage like me.  He also had an older brother but no younger siblings.  This was his first year coming down to Mrs. Volpe's class, other had been for years, but I was his first round-eared friend.

I remember our Christmas program from that year to be extremely nerve wracking.  Not because Daddy, Mom, Gramps, Grams, Uncle Max, Aunt Charma were going to be there ~ we performed in the basement each night for them with the occasional dramatic moment randomly thrown into the daily routine.  No, the butterflies were taking flight because I knew Larry would be watching.  As we stood in our classroom, all of us gussied up to the nines in our Christmas dresses and child of the late-eighties hair, we whispered about where the elves might be watching from and how happy they would be to hear us sing.  All of our eyes were pealed as we walked onto the bleachers and I'm certain that I looked like a tennis match audience member as I sang "You nauseate me, Mr Grinch, with a nauseous super-naus!" searching for those pointy ears that might have peaked out as his round-eared friend sang her part... nothing!

Getting into bed that night I remember a saddness came over me, it was 21st of December.  No more school, no more notes, no more elves, Larry had to get back up to the North Pole and I was left in boring Lake Bluff while he had all of the fun in the toy shop.  On Christmas Eve Daddy encouraged me to write another note to Larry, just in case he slid into the Big Guy's sleigh sneakily to deliver my Christmas.  Daddy has always been a smart man.  With the best cursive I could muster, elves only read cursive you know!, I wrote my final letter to Larry.  I sealed it with some glitter and left it near Santa's brownies {we French's know he likes the warm chocolate over a stale cookie any time but ESPECIALLY in that cold Chicago wind} and the reindeers carrots.   As all of us kids piled up in the girls room, we pile it up on Christmas Eve, I prayed that Larry would make it into the sleigh or that at the very least Santa would take my final letter to him.

Christmas morning I awoke much earlier than the rest of the house.  Buba was quick to join me but we paced the bottom four steps until we heard Silent Night on the piano, that was our cue.  We ran up the stairs to see that the Big Guy certainly knew our address.  It was in those first moments of awe that Daddy pulled me to the front door, where I saw those same footprints that had adorned our classroom over the first weekend in December ~ LARRY MADE IT!  He read my letter and made the Big Guy wait, almost ruining Christmas for the kids in Libertyville, while he wrote back.  He wrote about my song and how good I had been, how lucky I was to be in Mrs. Volpe's class and have great friends and family.  He knew me so well.

It's been almost 20 years since Larry and I last spoke.  His friends have visited my houses over the years, Sneaky was Eli and Cassidy's elf a few years back and he knew EVERYTHING.  Today though, as I begin my Christmas countdown I'd like to shout out to Larry:

I'm still a lucky girl.  The Big Guy in my life now has blessed me with an amazing family that remains constant in spite of challenges.  My siblings and I still pile together on Christmas Eve to watch "All I Want for Christmas" and awake at the first hint of morning.  My family is still, even moreso now than ever, supportive of my endeavors and schemes in life.  I've also been gifted with incredible friends, who remind me of you Larry.  They know me, they laugh with me, they laugh at me, we sing together songs from years gone by at the top of our lungs and likely off key but its fun and we giggle still, everyone needs to giggle. Life is great.  Hope you're having a grand time up there in the North Pole.  Mrs. Volpe, with that never-changing hair, is no longer teaching but Cass is in the second grade this year ... I'm certain she would love you and cherish the memories you create as much as I.

Merry Christmas Larry.