I love it when the news makes me laugh for a change.
I am still chuckling over a news story from last week where a
man was arrested for telling children that Santa Claus did not exist. The intoxicated man walked along a parade
route that included a Santa on a float waving to all the children. The man, a paroled ex-con, insisted on
telling every child he encountered that the jolly man with a beard was a fake
and that there was no such thing as Santa Claus. This created a strange sort of mayhem that
had the police on a brief manhunt, seeking the horrible man who reportedly had
his hair done up like horns. He was charged
with breach of parole, causing a disturbance and public drunkenness. Apparently, Canada has no law against breaking a child’s heart.
Santa Claus is one of the few things that the world has done
right. I remember when I first became
exposed to Santa Claus at the 163rd Street Shopping Center as a young child (that was
before there were malls). Santa
represented all that was good about being a kid: toys, love, joy, laughter, magic and wonder. He also taught important values, like being “deserving”—a
concept employers emulate today, calling it “pay for performance.” Because of Santa, parents are able to
threaten their children to behave for weeks without having to be the
heavy. Santa is the perfect fantasy for children and
the perfect scapegoat for parents.
Like most Jewish kids in America, I was jealous of those who
got to celebrate Christmas. The hype and
commercialism were infectious, working me into a material girl lather. I reasoned that if Santa were real, he would
not discriminate against me merely on the basis of religion. After all, he loved all children and just
wanted them to behave. So I took one of
my long knee socks—it was the closest thing to those stockings I had seen in
the store—and attempted to hang it to receive Santa’s bounty. There was just one catch. My South Florida home was missing an
important feature. Just how would Santa
find his way to my house when we didn't have a fireplace?
The answer: he didn’t!
Years later I was surprised to discover the lengths to which
adults went to preserve the myth of Santa Claus. For many years I worked for a man who had
three young sons, just a bit older than my own children. His family had elaborate rituals designed to
create a sense of Christmas magic for his children, taking great pains to keep his children
under Santa’s spell. When the oldest lost
his Santa innocence, he was quickly sworn to secrecy. The same with the middle child, just to
preserve the wonderment experienced by the youngest. When the Tim Burton film “Nightmare Before
Christmas” came out (one of our family’s favorites) I tried to loan it to him
for his family to watch. He refused to
bring it home, believing that it was based on the idea that Santa did not
exist. (In fact, the film does just the opposite!) I finally realized that he was
still holding on to some of that belief-in-Santa magic himself.
There are so few things on which we as a society can
agree. That’s why I love Santa. For me, it has nothing to do with religion,
or spirituality, or faith. More and
more, Santa reminds us what it used to be like to be a kid—holding on to a
time when life is as simple as “good things happen to good people.” The world is a tough place and getting
tougher all the time. Isn’t it
wonderful when we can allow kids to be kids just a little while longer?
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