Santa's name was Brian

Yes, there is a Santa.

And one of his names is Brian.

I was hosting a holiday dinner last night for a few of my family, five adults and two young children. This year we went to Extra Billy's on West Broad Street. We had gnawed the baby back ribs to the bone and were sitting back from the table to continue talking and catching up.

(I host this dinner every year out of love as well as out of enlightened self-interest. These are the relatives who invite me to share their Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner every year. They make sure I'm not eating a turkey sandwich alone in my apartment on these special holidays.)

Our waitress, who had given us special attention during our meal, came our way with the check in her hand and tears in her eyes. We discovered she was overcome by the kindness of a perfect stranger who had already picked up the tab for our entire meal.

She said the bill was paid by "a secret Santa."

We speculated madly among ourselves for a few minutes. Who could it have been?

A few minutes later we had our answer. The waitress brought Brian, who appeared to be coming along reluctantly, from the area near the bar. He was our secret Santa.

Brian said he had watched as we enjoyed what was clearly a special occasion and decided to give us a Christmas present. He choked up a bit but recovered quickly as he explained.

We invited Brian to sit and chat. He stayed for a few minutes, clearly captivated by my niece's two young children. And then with hugs all around and much wishing of "Merry Christmas," he left to rejoin his friends.

Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. I was dumbstruck.

Brian, a perfect stranger, had no reason to pick up our tab at all. Except that he was feeling the Christmas spirit in a big way.

I think I can speak for all of us at the table last night -- Mike, Becky, Terry, James, Milagros, Carlos, and me.

We're all feeling the Christmas spirit a little bit more now.