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McKenzie-Sharland on Dominion Street
If I wasn’t running in a field, playing with kids or swimming at the YMCA, I was walking somewhere in the neighbourhood because you were to be outside and not inside the house. I remember this house vividly from when I was about six years old. One bright winter day, I was walking home from St. Louis school and was passing this house. I heard the front door slam. To my surprise, Santa Claus came down the steps with his cherry red suit and black sack over his shoulders. He jumped into an old, long, beat-up Chevy parked in front and roared away down the street in the slush and snow. Now I know you’re thinking, Santa doesn’t drive a Chevy! Boy, can you imagine: a six-year old kid finds that Santa was living down the street, a half-block away the whole time and nobody told me? Throughout the Christmas season, every time I passed this house, I waited expectantly for Santa to come out again and find me standing there. It took some maturity and time, I suppose, to realize my Santa was just a guy hired as Santa for Woolworth or Eaton’s department store.