As told by Betty 
            Ann Barr Boilesen 
          As Christmas 
            Eve unfolded when I was seven years of age, it would be a Christmas 
            that would have a story that I would share with family and friends 
            for many years to come.
          The snow was 
            gently falling as we gathered for Christmas Eve at cousin Sara and 
            Fred's house in the small town of Elba, Nebraska. Each year we would 
            gather there for our traditional Swedish dinner of ludfiske gravy 
            over mashed potatoes and a festive lingonberry desert.
          I can picture 
            my mother Anna and my father Manley; my sister Fay and her husband 
            Andus and my niece Marjorie, age four; Sara, Fred and their teenage 
            children Willie and Elsie sitting at the long dining room table. Marjorie 
            and I would sit next to each other as we were the best of friends.
          
          Marjorie and Betty Ann
           
          Just before bedtime 
            we hung out stockings on the chairs in the parlor for Santa to fill. 
            We would then go to the kitchen cupboard to get a plate of cookies 
            and to the icebox for a glass of mil. We had to give Santa his treat. 
            After placing the cookies on the table we were wisked off to bed.
          I can remember 
            that night so well laying in my bed unable to go to sleep. Visions 
            went through my head as to what Santa might leave for me. I had been 
            such a good girl. I was sure my stocking would have something very 
            special in it!
          Finally, I drifted 
            off to sleep but only to awake in the wee morning hours. Quietly, 
            I opened the bedroom door and tiptoed into the parlor to see if Santa 
            had arrived. Sure enough, he had eaten all of the cookies and filled 
            the stockings! 
          As I looked at 
            the stockings my heart sunk....I went to mine and there was a little 
            girl doll on my chair. Then I looked at Marjorie's chair and Santa 
            had given her the most beautiful baby doll I had ever seen. Oh, I 
            thought, I don't want a little girl doll, I want a baby doll. I was 
            so sad. Didn't Santa realize that I wanted the baby doll? Well, I 
            can fix that, I thought. Santa just made a mistake. So I took the 
            little girl doll on the my chair and placed it on Marjorie's chair. 
            Then, I took the baby doll and placed it on my chair and tiptoed back 
            to bed.
          When daylight 
            finally came on that Christmas morning so many years ago I can just 
            picture myself ready to go to my stocking and chair and pick up that 
            baby doll and hug it. Oh, I loved that doll. As I entered the room 
            I can remember my mother and sister Fay looking at each other in wonderment, 
            as if to say what happened here? I was sure they would just let it 
            pass. They must have been thinking, did they make the mistake? They 
            never, never said a word about the switch but explained to us that 
            Santa must have gotten the dolls mixed up and put the baby doll on 
            the wrong chair. So Marjorie got the baby doll after all. I was very 
            disappointed, for I wanted that baby doll so much on that Christmas 
            morning.
          The next Christmas, 
            Santa remembered my disappointment and left me a beautiful baby doll. 
            I named her Beverly.
           
          
          Almost 25 years later Santa 
            and Beverly show up at another Christmas...this time not as a doll, 
            but as a daughter.
           
           
           
           
           
           
          
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