History of the DSC Foundation

When I was a kid, I began anticipating Christmas around July. I would sit in my room when it was 105 degrees outside and play Christmas music on my tape deck, conjuring up my lists of what I wanted to give my family and what I wanted from Santa. My anticipation was not exactly contagious. When it was Halloween and everyone was focused on their costumes, my mind was consumed with the official countdown to Christmas beginning. I simply couldn’t contain my joyful glee when my parents would FINALLY let us get a Christmas tree, for which I began to beg long before Thanksgiving. 

I attribute my love of Christmas to my parents. My father was the hardest working man alive, and my mother showed him unrelenting support. They were a formidable team that is still married to this day. Together, they made Christmas the absolute most special occasion for my little brother and I. I remember my mom working for a woman who made custom hair bows. She glued and tied hair bows for hours on end in the weeks leading up to Christmas, just to have the money to absolutely spoil us rotten on Christmas morning. My dad would work every single weekend, putting away as much money as possible to ensure that the latest and greatest baseball equipment would be found under the tree. 

In my family, Christmas was centered around giving. The anticipation of my parents opening what little trinkets I was able to purchase and put beneath the tree for them was almost greater than the anticipation of opening what Santa brought for me. My family relished the giving. We always recognized and acknowledged each other’s hard work and sacrifice to create such a special occasion. We each understood the effort and thought behind each present we received. Most importantly, we understood the reason for the celebration. The joy and festivity of the birth of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. 

When I became a father, I carried on the great Sanford tradition of joyous Christmases with my kids. At times, I struggled financially as all young parents do. My single greatest fear was that I would be unable to provide gifts for my children under the Christmas tree. I imagined their faces and disappointment to awaken to Santa having not been able to stop there that morning. Every single child on Earth should experience at least ONE DAY a year, where they are rewarded by Santa, and are acknowledged for being “good”.