My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her “world-famous” cinnamon buns. I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true.

Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her everything. She was ready for me. “No Santa Claus?” she snorted. “Ridiculous! Don’t believe it. That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad. Now, put on your coat, and let’s go.”

“Go? Go where, Grandma?” I asked. I hadn’t even finished my second world-famous cinnamon bun.

“Where” turned out to be Kerby’s General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through it’s doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars.

That was a bundle in those days.

“Take this money,” she said, “and buy something for someone who needs it. I’ll wait for you in the car.” Then she turned and walked out of Kerby’s.

I was only eight years old. I’d often gone shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping. For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for.

I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school, and the people who went to my church. I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock’s grade-two class.

Bobby Decker didn’t have a coat. I knew that because he never went out to recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn’t have a cough; he had no coat.

I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat!

I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that. “Is this a Christmas present for someone?” the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down.

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied shyly. “It’s for Bobby.” The nice lady smiled at me.  I didn’t get any change, but she put the coat in a bag and wished me a Merry Christmas.

That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat in Christmas paper and ribbons (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in one of her books) and write, “To Bobby, From Santa Claus” on it.

Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker’s house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially one of Santa’s helpers. Grandma parked down the street from Bobby’s house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk.

Then Grandma gave me a nudge. “All right, Santa Claus,” she whispered, “get going.” I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pounded his doorbell and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma. Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open.

Finally it did, and there stood Bobby. Fifty years haven’t dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker’s bushes. That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were: ridiculous. Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team.

There were more rocks that looked like this, and this particular one here at this historic point was considered the leader. I was always taught to give an offering whenever we passed it on the way west on Hwy 2. The other large rock has small hand prints and footprints in the rock, as well as various other designs. These rocks are considered sacred.

I got out of the car right, my sister was teasing me because I had some of my hair stuck to my hand. She said that I had better get that off my hand and leave it in the car, not to lose it outside, because someone might find it and put a “love spell” on me.

I laugh about that, because I don’t believe in stuff like that really…

As part of my trip video for my birthday, I thought I would video tape myself giving an offering to the rocks.

I’m walking up to the rocks to give an offering, and the camera was recording the whole time, but a lot was not captured!

I did NOT pause the recording at all from the time I got OUT of the car to the time I got back IN, and yet, a WHOLE chunk of time ISN’T there!

I am very familiar with my video camera. I’ve had it for over a year and a half, and I do NOT make mistakes like accidentally bumping the “record” button.

I got chills watching the playback when I got home and discovered what was (or what WASN’T) on my camera!! It’s downright SPOOKY!!

Dear all,

We are very sad to announce that Emilie Autumn has today been struck down with Tracheolaryngitis.  This is basically a serious infection (and subsequent inflammation) of the voice-box and windpipe and yes, it is as painful as it sounds!!  Emilie is currently unable even to speak, let alone sing or perform, and she is under strict doctor’s orders to rest totally and not use her voice at all for the next three or four days minimum.  Obviously it would be impossible to perform her usual show under such conditions, so we have no choice but to cancel the shows in Graz, Vienna, Prague, Bratislava and Innsbruck .  This is not a step we take lightly, and while we understand that fans will be disappointed, we also hope that they will understand and join us in wishing her a full and swift recovery.

The rest of the scheduled shows will take place as planned, and we will be announcing rescheduled dates as soon as possible… please go to emilieautumn.com for further information!!