Or nearly, to wish even those among us who no longer deck the halls, a Merry memory of a Merry Christmas, perhaps long ago with snow on snow. I remember now the four foot drifts of it in Grand Forks, North Dakota, and the tobaggan run my brothers made from the back of the parsonage on Reeves drive to the banks of the Red River, and asking my dad when I was five or six “Is there a Santa Clause?” and being told by him “No.” Well that was that then wasn’t it? And my older neighbor, Jane – about nine or ten – was right then.