Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. And for the last two years it’s been me.
For the past two years, I’ve stopped shaving sometime in August and that has permitted it to get to near Santa length. I suppose that if I let it continue to grow, by the next holiday season I could get a job somewhere as a “real” Santa and go ahead kid, pull my beard. But I’ve been Santa a couple of times at Wal-Mart and I don’t like doing it very much. The children are either terrified of me (usually the younger babies who have never sat next to a huge beard) or worship me, and I’m not comfortable being their god either.
I have two sons, one is a cockeyed optimist and the other is a sarcastic pessimist. I am convinced the reason for this is one grew up believing in Santa and the other was told that Mommie and Daddy bring the presents. Kids have hopes and dreams anyway and hoping that Santa will bring them what they want is generally a good thing. If you don’t think so, watch A Christmas Story, the holiday movie that will air all day on one of the cable networks. It rings so true, because it is.
So if you forget about the Santa factor, and realize that your only hope is your mom and dad, who REALLY know if you’ve been bad or good and don’t let you forget about it -- well, you can see how the pessimist develops. Did you get my meaning oh daughter-in-law?
So why do I dress up like Santa? Because it’s FUN! When I go shopping, I usually ride around in the handicapped cart because of my disabilities. It’s fun to have kids at my level as they stare in awe at me and I smile and wave to them. It’s also a lot of fun with adults, as I will tease them about being naughty and/or nice. Today, A middle aged woman who was with her friends said a rousing “Hello Santa” and I replied “You better straighten up young lady, you’re on my naughty list…. and at your age you better be!” She loved it and everyone had a smile for the day.
I am, of course, completely insane and it’s a harmless way to express my insanity. The other night I was at the Wal-Mart check out register and after the cashier told me the total, I grumbled that it was “a poor excuse for Sam Walton’s family to pick my pocket every 25th of December.” She cracked up and I lost yet another small bit of anger at Wal-Mart. But quite honestly, some of the things Wal-Mart has done in the name of “what would Sam do?” since his death would probably make Sam quite unhappy. An elder in his church, I doubt he would approve of keeping the store open on Christmas Day and Easter Sunday.
I think a good philosophy came from the leader of a bible study group I once went to. He said “I don’t mind Santa having a holiday, I just wish he wouldn’t pick Jesus’ birthday.”
So as I write out of sight, Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.
