You know that old saying that people love family photos so much that if their house were on fire, the only thing they would save would be the family albums? Well, it’s not true. And, I’m reminded of that every Christmas.

During a July 4th celebration circa 1977 my family gathered at my grandfather’s house for a cookout. There was a smoker, a fire and soon a house fire. Within minutes the entire house was engulfed in flames and the echos of approaching sirens could be heard. Luckily, my sister and I were playing next door. No one was hurt, but the house was gutted.

The fire burned right through the middle of the house. The living room with the thick emerald green carpet that was home to my grandmother’s Christmas tree was now a blackened square hole dropping into the basement.

I remember the firefighters, the smoke, but nothing of my family grabbing family photo albums and running out of the house. No, we didn’t save pictures, but someone did manage to save Santa. And, not just any Santa. As the fire began to rage, someone ran past the photo albums, the china, the precious family heirlooms, the bedrooms, and hiked up a ladder into the attic to grab a 3-foot-tall Santa perched upon a green, astroturfed ladder. He was poised to place an angel on top of the Christmas Tree.

Of all the things to save . . It’s like he was our very own portrait of George Washington being saved as the British burned our home, except it’s a fake Santa made from polyester and plastic and my family’s from Jeff City.

As a kid I thought the ladder Santa was the coolest Christmas decoration in the world. Sure, you saw the occasional plastic Santa sitting on the front lawn, but this dude was inside! And, perched on the ladder, he was taller than most dads. You gotta admit it was unique. I’ve never seen or heard anyone ever having anything like it. That doesn’t mean I’d save him from a burning house, though. Why somebody saved it I have no idea. I don’t know how or why, but someone risked a lot to save it. Maybe they were moved by the Christmas-in-July spirit.

The whole thing is so odd, it makes me question if it really happened like that at all. Other than learning about the hazards of cooking with a smoker, much of that day is lost to time. My grandparent’s house was rebuilt and eventually sold. We finally inherited Santa; but he has since died without leaving any clues as to his worth.

All that remains are my memories of playing underneath Santa on my grandma’s living room floor on Christmas Eve. I miss those days. And, for that, I wish I had a photo of ‘ole St. Nick to take me back to those moments.

All in all it’s a pretty anti-climatic story, but it does make me think about that question, What would you save from a burning house? Has anyone ever really risked their life to save some old photos?

For me, I vote for the family photo album saved on my laptop.