Like every other child, I wasn’t able to contain myself as Christmas grew nigh. To thwart my brothers’ and my enthusiasm, my mother and father adopted the extraordinarily irritating habit of not putting anything under the tree until after we went to bed Christmas Eve. That meant no slack-jawed gazing at the presents, no rattling the innards to discern the contents, nor peering through them with the X-ray glasses ordered from the back of Fantastic Four comic books.

EDITOR,

On Christmas day, I opened a box from my parents. In it was a T-shirt. It was not just any T-shirt. It was a 2010 San Francisco Giants World Series Championship T-shirt.

Saturday, Jan. 1

Every year for the past few years, in the weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve, I’ve enjoyed a very special duty. My mail carrier brings me all the letters that local children write to Santa Claus.

EDITOR,

I am writing because of Scotts Valley High School’s play, “Durang & A Dollar.” I found it to be surprisingly disrespectful.