Christmas Wishes Come True, but Only for Some : Holiday: The season’s magic springs to life for many Southland children, while others feel lonely and bereft.

Christmas is, above all, a children’s holiday. For them Dec. 25, 1990, in Southern California was a time of sophistication and innocence, of piety and materialism, of poverty and wealth, of family ties and loneliness, against a backdrop of varied ethnic groups and faiths:

The beige stucco house in Monterey Park where Bea Hernandez lives is on a corner lot. But even with the extra swath of lawn, 17 grandchildren fill up the front yard. And for Christmas, of course, every one was there.

They helped polish off the tamales, 24 dozen of them. Depending on the children’s ages, they frolicked on the grass or clung to mothers’ legs. Some flashed smiles punctuated with braces; others revealed gaps where front teeth had fallen out.

But no matter how old, they shared one abiding belief: Santa Claus had indeed come to town the night before.

Alexia Bravo, 5, reported having seen “something red by the fireplace” in the living room Christmas Eve. “He left me a pretty ballerina,” she said.

Her brother Mike, 14, received a fishing pole Christmas morning and was not a bit surprised. “I wrote to Santa Claus that I have been good and that I wanted a fishing pole. I gave it to my mom,” he said. “She said she mailed it.”

She must have.

For Peter Yung, Cindy Luu, Tom Huey--all 16--and Fred Chow, 15, Christmas brunch was fast-food fried chicken in Alhambra.

For Zalmy Berkowitz, 7, lunch on Christmas day meant a trip to the big city from Huntington Beach for kosher pizza in the heart of the Fairfax District.

For Jessica Kaye, 8, Christmas dinner was ham, scalloped potatoes, hot baked rolls and a choice of pies for dessert, prepared by her bachelor uncle in the flats of Woodland Hills.

For Phillip and Tania Jabour, 6 and 9: grape leaves and mahshi , which is squash and zucchini stuffed with rice, cooked by their Palestinian grandmother.

For Eric Webb, 2, the best Christmas fare was the colorful plastic French fries and hamburger that came with a 3-foot-tall reproduction of a McDonald’s restaurant, one of the morning’s gifts. On a South-Central Los Angeles stoop, Eric’s uncle, Robert Anderson, tried to assemble the counter while his mother, Sharon Anderson, warned that the treats were artificial.

“They’re not real,” she said. Eric didn’t care. He just kept gnawing away at the parts while his uncle stared dolefully at the instructions.

The holiday celebration came Monday night at the Torres home in Santa Ana, so Tuesday it was back to work for 13-year-old Maribel.

From 9 a.m. until dusk, she manned her station on a corner of Harbor Boulevard in Costa Mesa south of the San Diego Freeway, selling bunches of roses from a white bucket.

Business was good as scores of people made a quick stop for flowers on the way to Christmas dinner. By late afternoon, the eighth-grader at Lathrop Junior High School had sold $300 worth of flowers, six times what she says she usually gets on her weekend and holiday shifts.

The extra cash from commissions will pay for new clothes she’s had her eye on, Maribel said. As for Christmas? “It’s just another day,” she said flatly.

“It’s a happy day because we’re going over to my cousin Bernice’s house, because you get presents and stuff, and because you get to see your relatives and people you have never seen before,” said Richard Johnson, 10, of South-Central Los Angeles.

Jordan Chaidez is a practical 8-year-old.

He was happy to get a Game Boy, a miniature video game. “This is for when you’re bored when your mom’s at the mall,” said Jordan, who lives in Ontario and was visiting his father in Monterey Park. “You can take it out and play with it for a long time.”

He was thrilled by his new shoes. “These are special skateboarding shoes,” he explained. “And I begged for them for two weeks.”

“And you cried, too,” said his dad, Jimmie.

“Yeah,” said Jordan. “I cried, too.”

For young girls at a group home near USC for abused and emotionally disturbed children, Christmas was a time of loss with subtle undertones of hope.

A Sunday night blaze in the office of the Youth Growth and Development home had destroyed the youngsters’ presents. Moreover, most of the children, who live at the state-funded facility because of problems at home, would not be seeing their families on the holiday.

“It makes me sad,” said Antonia Gonzalez, 14, a tear in her left eye. “I’m hoping to see my mother and my two brothers again sometime in the future.”

Still, the six girls at the Dalton Avenue home were looking forward to a holiday dinner with other boys and girls who live in nearby group homes.

They were also somewhat buoyed by last-minute replacement gifts that began arriving on Christmas Eve from Good Samaritans who had heard about the fire on TV news broadcasts.

“It might just turn out OK,” said Casonna White, 15. “We’re going to get gifts, although it’s not going to be the same.”

“Christmas is a time of giving and receiving, sharing and love. This fire was started by someone jealous because she wasn’t going to have a good Christmas, I think.”

At a leafy intersection in San Marino, 4-year-old Kaitlin Lester and her 3-year-old cousin, Cody Mitchell, were out for a morning stroll. Cody’s father, Randy, was carrying another child, his 2-year-old daughter Amanda.

Kaitlin, in white long-sleeved turtleneck and green corduroy overalls, was happily discussing her presents--”two Bubba foowawas” (translation: “two Barbie Ferraris”)--when Cody started pushing her.

“Cody, don’t push me,” Kaitlin said. “I don’t want to get my clothes dirty.”

Cody laughed and gave her a good shove with both hands, sending her sprawling onto a nearby lawn.

Kaitlin got herself up and punched Cody in the eye.

“I got Reeboks and a phone--because of Jesus’ birthday,” said Jason Harb, 14, of El Segundo.

Jon Christopher Robnett, 4, happily tested his new Batman crossbow from the front porch of his grandparents’ house in View Park. He used the gleaming black-and-tan device to send little plastic discs spinning onto the lawn.

He was visiting along with his parents, his sister El-Lenor, 7, and brothers Julius, 3, and Justin, 14 months.

It wasn’t long, though, before Jon Christopher could be heard asking, “Dad?”

Will you find that Batman thing for me?”

“Where did you shoot it? I don’t know what you did with it,” said his father, Chris. His mother, Debra, sighed.