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This is gonna be slightly unusual update today. Go make a pot of coffee or a big mug of hot chocolate and settle in.

Hey, the snow's up to your ass! Relax, take your time.

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I hafta tell you guys a little story.

If you know me at all, or if you've been coming to this website for any period of time... like at least a year... you know that I've always loved passing on a piece of writing in which I feel is contained an essential Truth.

That yes, in fact... no bullshit. Yes. There is a Santa Claus.

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Now, over 100 years ago a newspaper man named Frank Church immortalized that simple Truth in a letter to a little girl right here in New York City... little 8 year-old Virginia O'Hanlon. I've featured that enduring piece of writing in songs, on stage, and here at the website many different ways over the years.

Click on her photo to hear
the letter and answer.

Virginia

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Click to see the original editorial
as it appeared in the paper.

I have always loved that letter, and I've always regarded this man's answer as the Truth.

Now, back about 12 or 13 years ago, I was living alone in an apartment on Riverside Drive near West 93 Street. One December night, the very first night it snowed that year, just me and my ol' buddy Thurman, (a creamsicle-colored cat who thought he was a person) were hangin' together wrapping Christmas presents or something. Over my shoulder the television was on, and I was half-watching a TV Christmas special that was about TV Christmas specials.

Well, one of the features on the show was about a segment from an old, old Perry Como Christmas Special in black & white, circa 1960. But here I was watching it as we neared the end of the 20th century. All of the sudden... there she is.

There she is!

VIRGINIA!!!

Click to watch
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Now when they showed the original letter that she wrote way back in 1897, I noticed that she signed it with her address.

115 West 95th Street

Okay, so 12 years ago there I am, hangin' out with my buddy Thurman in an apartment on West 93 Street. I looked out the window at the snow and said, "Well, pal... I gotta go see."

So, I put on my boots and coat. Just in case her house was still there, I decided to follow a silly whim. Before I went out the door, I found an unused Christmas card and wrote:

Dear Virginia,
Thank you. And Merry Chrismas
~ David

It was snowing pretty good by then, but I went out into the night to find if Virginia's house.

As I crossed West End Avenue and then Broadway I started thinking, "There are quite a few newer buildings in that area." And back during the nightmarish city planning under Robert Moses, entire neighborhoods were torn down and turned into projects and building complexes. But, as I crossed Amsterdam Ave. I began counting the building addresses down.

And then, sure enough... a string of old, old brownstones and rowhouses still stood on West 95th Street. And closer to Columbus Avenue stood an old house with the number "115" above the door. It was run down and in disrepair... but there it was.

I remember facing the house, backing up to the curb and taking it in. I remember looking up at the windows in the dark.... wondering which might have been little Virginia's bedroom. I wondered where she was in the house when she wrote the letter; which window she certainly peeked out one Christmas Eve night trying to catch a glimpse of Santa Claus. I wondered how she felt playing on the sidewalk with her friends the day her letter appeared in one of the premier newspapers of the big city. I smiled.

Then, I quietly and anonymously slipped my Christmas card under the door. The name on the envelope simply read - Virginia.

Now, I'm not an idiot. Of course I wondered if the current occupants of the house had even a clue that the building in which they lived had any historical significance at all. I imagined the next morning, someone finding the letter and tossing it. But, that didn't matter. I did it because it's the kind of thing I do, and it felt good. It felt warm and good. It was fun.

I've delivered a card in the same way nearly every year since then. Very few friends and loved ones were even aware of the fact that I have this little personal tradition. There were years when I was sure the building was vacant, but I slipped the card under the door anyway... maybe for some super or janitor to throw in the garbage. Then there were a few years when the building was surrounded by plywood barricades as renovation-construction was finally being done. (The building was becoming the new home for a children's school called "The Studio School". That was a serendipitous circumstance of which I was sure Virginia would have approved... because when she grew up, married and changed her name to Virginia Douglas, she became a teacher and eventually the principal of a school.)

Anyway, fast forward - - last year, I was finally busted and this little secret of mine wound up in The New York Times.

Click to read the article

And also synchronistically, a year ago on this very night I had to say good bye to my buddy Thurman after 18 and a half years together. Last year once again after the first snowfall, I said, "Well pal... I'll be right back. I hafta go to Virginia's house." Thurman was having a very rough night and I knew this would be the last time I'd get to say that to him.

Kinda funny. Kinda sad. Kinda bittersweet for me this year. I think the snow came last year at the same time almost exactly to the day.... because December 20th was my last night hangin' with that little guy.

Well...

Ah, Life.

Last night I decided to make the delivery from the original location on Riverside Drive, just to re-trace my steps from all those years ago. I headed out into the first snowfall of 2009 last night...

...and visited Virginia's house in the snow.

Click to watch video

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I'll be back tomorrow with another update.

Have fun in the snow today, everybody!!!!

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Have fun today.

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PEACE