Every child knows Santa Claus. In America he is that jolly little fellow with the curly white hair and the twinkle in the eye. He can squeeze his potbelly through the narrowest chimney to bring the children their favorite toys. He is all over the place long before Christmas and drives a sleigh pulled by reindeers. There is even a Mrs. Santa Claus, a roly-poly old lady who helps him to pack all the gifts.

Back in Germany I remember him as Saint Nikolaus quite differently. There he was tall and slender, wore a bishop's hat, carried a staff and walked in measured steps. He was a man to be reckoned with. He knew everything we children had done during the year, the good and the bad.

He came from Turkey to visit our town on the sixth of December, which was his birthday. Several families gathered in the late afternoon to welcome him. The children in their Sunday outfits had to learn a poem or song to be presented in front of the whole audience. So we waited anxiously, going over our lines once more in silence.

Heavy steps on the stairway and the rattle of chains announced his arrival. He carried a heavy book bound in gold and was followed by a hooded monk. This was his servant who carried a heavy sack over his shoulder, a broom made from twigs and a chain in his hand. The smallest children scampered to hide behind the skirts of their mothers, the older ones swallowed and stood silent with wide-open eyes. After he had greeted the adults, we all sang a Christmas carol, every verse of it, and our parents would watch us to find out if we remembered all the words. The individual performances followed, but that was not all. While the servant grunted and rattled his chain, and we all shuddered, Santa Claus would open the golden book and call each child before him to account for his or her behavior during the past year. If one had been disobedient, lazy or mean to the siblings or animals, brought bad grades home or had lied, it was all written down in the book. But improvements and good deeds were mentioned as well, and little gifts were handed out for that. Some of the children, mostly the boys, had to endure a few strikes with the whip administered by the servant.

Finally, Santa Claus gave a little sermon and told us to be especially good and helpful before Christmas and not to forget our prayers. Then came what we all had waited for: the big sack was dumped with a loud bang on the floor and each child scrambled to collect his share of apples, oranges and candy. Santa Claus bade farewell since he had to visit many more houses, and, relieved, we munched on cookies and drank hot cocoa.

Later we learned that Saint Nikolaus had been a bishop in Turkey, several hundred years ago. He loved children, but he taught that love without discipline was unacceptable.

As Christmas drew closer, every child would get his wish list ready and hang it on a string outside a window in the hope that the Christ Child would pick it up. The Christ Child was an angel with big silver wings and a crown. He was the one who brought all the presents on Christmas Eve. Days before then, one room would be locked up and mysterious noises could be heard through the door.

In the afternoon of December. 24 our father would take us to the cemetery to the family grave. We carried a very small Christmas tree decorated with angel's hair and tiny wax candles. It was a 20 minute walk and most of the time there was snow on the ground. We set the tree on the grave and lit the candles. Singing a carol and saying prayers we watched the candles burn down. It was dark now, but walking back through the cemetery, we saw many small lighted Christmas trees and people walking by. Now we wanted to get home fast because we knew that the Christ Child must have had time to bring all the things we had wished for.

Our house was almost dark, and we were told to be patient and wait on the steps to the second floor. There was a faint streak of light under the double doors of the living room. My sister and I held hands and talked only in whispers. A bell rang out, the doors flew open and we were blinded by all the lights of the tall tree which reached to the ceiling. My father closed one window and said, "The Christ Child just flew out." We were sorry not to have gotten even a glimpse of him but were distracted by all the gifts spread out on several tables. Each member of the family had his individual table on which the gifts from the Christ Child lay on display. Only the ones from other relatives were wrapped up. We were not allowed to just run and claim our table; first, we had to sing several carols and prove we had learned all the verses. While we sang, we took in not only the presents on our table but also the nativity scene, carved out of wood, which was spread out on the floor on a green velvet cloth. Our eyes also spotted the big plates on each table filled with homemade cookies and chocolates. We would munch on them even between meals, something forbidden at other times. Finally, we could take possession of our presents and play with the toys. All too soon for us we had to leave them, the wax candles were carefully extinguished and a simple dinner of cold-cuts was served. Our household help was given the rest of the evening off. We looked forward to the big Christmas dinner with the traditional goose served at noon on Christmas Day.