My parents never told me Santa did or didn’t exist, Santa was sort of a popular culture thing. It worked out alright because I never had to think my parents lied to me.
Oh God! SANTANA! I need to read a little more carefully before posting.
They only spoke of Devadip.
Not only did they tell me it was real, they took me there a few times. (I grew up about 40 miles away.)
Yes, my father once bought me a Santana record! And I LIKED IT!
Tito is just a myth invented to explain why bad things happen.
Why didn’t Sgt Slaughter win the 1991 championship? It’s Tito’s fault.
Why did Yugoslavia leave the Warsaw Pact? It’s Tito’s fault.
Why were ticket prices for the Unity Tour so high? It’s Tito’s fault.
When I was a kid, there was no Santana. We had to make do with Desi Arnaz.
Santana wasn’t real when I was little, so my parents didn’t tell me about them; I had to have my own religious experience of them. Since I discovered them before I started drinking and smoking dope, I’m reasonably convinced I didn’t imagine their existence while stoned. They are real, I tell you.
You should cross-post this to the “Was it really better ‘back in the day’” thread, as convincing evidence to the contrary. 
My dad had a scar on his leg and told me that he got it when Santa shot him. I believed that for a LOOONNNGGG time.
My mother grew up in Arkansas City, but apparently her family was in denial about the existence of Satanta, because none of them ever mentioned it to me.
My parents left milk and cookies for Santana and it ruined my life.
Well no. I only just found out now.
I’m Jewish, so my parents never told me about Santana. I never heard of them until I saw “Woodstock”.
I’ve been through the desert on a cat with no name.
But nobody warned me what a mess there would be, what with all the sand said cat tracked into my home all over the carpet.
Nobody told me about Sandy Claws.
I remember cotton, wool, artificial fabrics, etc., but I don’t think I ever wore satin. Perhaps a tie or two, but probably not.
Sometimes we had satin ribbon on dresses. Sometimes tied in our hair as children. I cannot think of a single whole garment made of satin, though.
My parents told me that Santana was made up by an advertising agency and was only depicted with long hair and facial hair to encourage young people to use their product, coke.
I know Santana is real. I met him once!
Yes. Eventually I realized it was a useless fabric and so, by extension, all fabrics were useless. That’s why I am now a lifelong nudist (although some of us prefer the term “fright”) and, in fact, I am naked as I post right now.
My older cousin would tell me stories about Santana, but I always thought it was just crazy talk, because I heard his music, but no one I knew had ever seen him in person. Then this morning I found out a guy my dad knows was on the phone with him yesterday. Who knows, maybe this Christmas I’ll finally get an actual glimpse of this mysterious, magical creature.