Santa Claus Comes to Town

It was a dark and stormy night. (sorry, wrong story)


There was a knock on the door. The youngest member of the family ran to the door in eager anticipation, and threw it open like it was flimsy wrapping paper on a new package of underwear. The shriek could be heard all around town as though a herald was unveiling news of a new revolution, or announcing another tea party at the harbor. Indeed, it was Santa Claus, back from a long hiatus of sun bathing on the beaches of the South Pacific drinking cool beverages from tall glasses with tiny paper umbrella stuck in a myriad of tropical fruit lining the rim to hide the lipstick prints. Only this time the weather fit the stereotypical drawing from a second rate children's book about the jolly old "elf," or what ever particular myth you personally grew up repeating: Papa Noel, Chris Cringle, Saint Nick, Chonon, etc.

People can say, as most young boys over the age of 6 or 7 will, that Santa Claus does not exist. I can refute their every claim. Santa Claus is more like money, real money, big money. Not like $100 bills, but like state of federal budgets, more concept and confidence than hard fact.

Case in point: The little boy in the picture above was at the door to greet his father as he came home from work. as the man opened the door, he told his son to look toward the elevator, from which we had just emerged. The boy, over joyed, shouted, "Santa Claus!" and took off at a dead run down the hall to where I was standing. I knelt down and he nearly bowled me over, hugging me with all his might. I hugged him back, and we talked about him. Nothing else mattered. He told me he loved going to school, and he liked to draw pictures. He loves his parents and he would like to have a new truck to play with for Christmas. That's all. No video games, no elaborate multi piece toy sets, no ipod, electronics, etc. Just a new truck.

Now the real magic was not for the little boy, who did not even tell me his name. The real magic was the love that radiated from him for the promise of Christmas. My expectations for the holidays usually take weeks to materialize because of the commercialization of the season. I must admit though, in these small eyes of a small boy full of hope and kindness, I see reflected the pure light of Christ. How refreshing! What a wonderful gift that I receive over and over.


Here is another example:

We have several posts where Lockie, the son of Michelle's good friend Barb has been featured. About a week and a half ago, I went to get the box out of storage to don the Santa Suit. The box was there. The boots were there. The wig and beard were there. But the suit was not. Imust have lent it out, and I simply do not remember. If anyone has a recollection, I would love to hear from you. That was the suit my mother made for my father, and the one he wore for years and years as he spread holiday cheer.

Anyway, Lockie was anticipating a visit from Santa for almost 2 weeks, and when we set up the appointment, he helped clean the apartment, his room, etc. He and his dad drew pictures and I told him his looked just like his dad's did from when his dad was a boy. Lockie showed me some crafts he'd made, and his stocking. I gave him a red and green striped candy cane and called it a "Ninja Turtle" candy cane because he loves the Ninja Turtles. We also sang Christmas songs. I had a great time, and the report from his mother is that he is still talking about the visit and the candy cane. He wants to take it with him everywhere he goes.

This is one of my favorite shots. He went to press the buttons on the elevator so I could go get ready for the Christmas Eve flight. He promised to have a snack ready for me, and one for the reindeer too, a single carrot to nibble on.

You know, for a grouchy old man, I think I really do like the holidays a bit more every year.

Merry Christmas to all and to all a Good Night!

Hugs and Kisses,

Alan