When I was a kid, I remember being hauled down to the bank to see Santa Claus. If memory serves me right, all we got was a Polaroid picture for Mom and a candy cane for myself. Not one time did a I get a cool pin to wear afterwards, but that is probably because I did not grow up in Harrisburg, PA in 1977.
Latest posts by Garry Vander Voort (see all)
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