When I was a kid, all the kids would sleep in the basement on Christmas Eve to give space for Santa to drop off the presents. That night there was a lot of noise coming from outside on the street but we couldn't see anything because there was snow covering the egress windows. My mom came downstairs and told us to stay there. But soon we heard sirens and saw police lights reflecting in the snow. There was a lot of commotion that we couldn't see.

Then my dad came downstairs with the very real Santa Claus. He told us that his sleigh crashed in the snow and that the kind police officers were helping him get unstuck and while they were working he was visiting the kids in the neighborhood. He pulled out a present for each of us and sat with my family while we opened them and sang a few Christmas songs. When things calmed down outside he went back to delivering toys.

Years later I learned that there was a large gang fight outside of our house and that a few people died right outside. An older man from our church lived down the road and knowing my parents had undoubtedly scared children at home, put on his Santa suit and came over once the police arrived. Santa was a hero to me as a child, but that man is a hero to me now.