Being Santa Claus : What I Learned About the True Meaning of Christmas (9781101600528)

by Lizard, Sal; Lane, Jonathan

  “I wanted to come here in person to apologize to you, Fallon. The North Pole operator got it wrong. I reviewed the case personally—even though I was so busy—because I knew what a good little girl you’ve been. So I checked with the elves, and they assured me that it was Michael D. who told you to do this. It wasn’t your fault.” I started opening my bag of presents. “Now, I could have just left your presents under the tree, but I wanted to come here this morning so that I could apologize to you in person for the whole mix-up and give you all these special presents.”

  “These are all for me???” Fallon’s eyes opened wide as she looked into the huge bag.

  “They sure are,” I said. Realizing that Fallon was still holding the telephone in her hand, I asked, “By the way, Fallon, who are you on the phone with?”

  “Michael D.,” she said.

  “Well, ask Michael D. what he got in his stocking this Christmas.”

  She did, and Michael D. said glumly, “I got a lump of coal in my stocking. Santa told me that I was really bad.”

  “That’s right,” I said. “Michael D. is going to have to work extra hard this next year to get off Santa’s naughty list.” I handed the bag of presents to Fallon’s parents. “Why don’t you put those under the tree and Fallon can open her gifts…”

  Fallon ran over to the other side of the room and started ripping off the wrapping paper as fast as she could, telling Michael D. and Cathy Lee about all the great toys she opened. That’s when I noticed Fallon was no longer paying attention to me because her back was turned. So as quietly as I could, I slipped out of the house and hurried back to the van. Once there, with the cell phone line still open, I let Cathy Lee know that I had left the house.

  I turned up the radio to hear Cathy Lee, who was still on the line with Fallon, ask, “Hey, Fallon, is it okay if we interview Santa?”

  I heard a brief pause of silence, and then Fallon gasped, “He’s gone!”

  “He’s gone?” Cathy Lee repeated, in mock surprise.

  “Yeah. I guess once his toys are delivered, he’s got no reason to hang around.”

  As I drove back to the radio station shortly after 7:00 A.M., I listened to caller after caller phoning in to say, “Michael D., you’ve redeemed yourself,” or, “I was so angry at you yesterday, but today you’ve helped that little girl believe in Christmas again. I forgive you.” And, most gratifying for me, “I loved hearing Santa visit Fallon and make her so happy. That was exactly the kind of Christmas spirit we needed.”

  As I drove home that Christmas morning to my waiting family, listening to dozens more happy callers, I felt a real sense of accomplishment. I’d made a difference in the world, even if just a small one. It’s hard to describe, really, but I think this is something we’ve all felt whenever we do something from the heart, with the pure intention of making someone else happy.

  For my efforts, the radio station let me keep the red Santa Claus suit. But I had something even more valuable: the memory of the look on little Fallon’s face that Christmas morning. For her, the experience was simply joy. But for me, that moment of seeing her eyes light up as she went from despair to delight was life-changing. I suddenly felt wistful about hanging up my Santa suit at the end of the season. I wanted to be able to recapture that magical moment when Fallon opened the door and saw me, and do it every Christmas from now on.

  You see, the world can be a topsy-turvy place—as we all know. Even the best-laid plans can go awry, disappointments happen, and conflicts and bitterness arise. But at Christmastime, I realized, the world wants to put the strife and cynicism on hold in the name of goodwill and peace on earth. Folks need to feel that Christmas spirit, just like that one caller said. And if I could help people do that just by being Santa and delivering a few much-needed Christmas miracles now and then…well, by golly, that’s just what I was going to do.

  THREE

  Santa on the Spot

  I DIDN’T GET EVERYTHING RIGHT AS SANTA IN the beginning. Oh, not by a long shot! I made plenty of mistakes in those early days, not the least of which was learning how to answer those oh-so-tricky Christmas questions from children.

  Stage two of my transformation into a real live Santa came nearly a year after my experience with Fallon. Out of the blue, I received a phone call from a stranger. “Hi, you don’t know me, but my name is Dale,” he said. “I got your number from the radio station. They said you were the person who played Santa Claus for them last year.”

  “Yes, that’s correct,” I said, not quite sure where this was heading. But I hadn’t forgotten my tiny wish from last year to somehow re-create that Santa magic, so I was keen to hear what came next.

  “My wife and I live in Charleston, and we have three kids. We were wondering if you’d be willing to come to our house as Santa Claus and hand out some toys to them. We would pay you for your time, of course.”

  “Well, it would have to be in the evening,” I said. “I work during the day.”

  “Oh, that’s fine,” he assured me. “Their bedtime isn’t until 8:30. How much do you charge?”

  Charge? The idea had never occurred to me. The real Santa doesn’t charge for anything, of course. Should I? There must be professional Santas, I supposed, but I certainly didn’t see myself that way. Plus, it seemed almost ridiculous to me to get paid to make children happy.

  “I’ll tell you what,” I said. “If you make a donation to a children’s Christmas charity, as long as you show me the receipt, that’ll be fine.”

  “Are you sure? We’re happy to pay you.”

  “Oh, I’m sure,” I answered. “It’s Christmas, after all.”

  So we set up a plan. I would arrive at 7:00 P.M. and knock on the door. The father would answer and hand me a bag of presents as I came in. Then he would bring me to the living room to say, “Look who’s here!” I’d walk in and hand out gifts, and the kids would get all excited. It would be easy…or so I thought.

  When the father answered the door, he put a finger to his lips to shush me as he led me down a short hallway to a closet. He opened the door and pulled down a bag of wrapped presents from the top shelf.

  Oops, I thought. I’d already made my first mistake: I didn’t bring an authentic-looking Santa sack with me. The bag that the man handed me was a big plastic one with a recognizable store’s name written on it in large letters. Santa wouldn’t be carrying a shopping bag with him—Christmas miracles don’t arrive via retail express! I made a mental note to get myself a real Santa sack if I ever did another home visit.

  I walked into the living room to find three young children in their pajamas. Sure enough, when I entered the room, the oldest boy spied the bag right away. “Why do you have a bag from a store?” he asked suspiciously. Mistake number two: Never underestimate the observational powers of children. They don’t miss a thing!

  Good question, kiddo. Okay, think, Sal…think. Why would Santa have a bag from a store? I thought about Ashley. What would Linda and I say to her to keep her belief in the Santa legend alive? The year before, I’d done a little improvising as Santa while driving around town in the radio station van, but this was a whole other level. I looked around the room and down into the bag of brightly wrapped gifts with their ribbons and bows, desperate to find some inspiration.

  Then I got it.

  “Ho, ho, ho!” I bellowed. “Santa wanted to make sure to get here before your bedtime tonight, which I know is 8:30, so I grabbed the first bag I could find. Wouldn’t you know, it turned out to be a bag the elves use to collect scraps of wrapping paper!”

  “How did you know our bedtime is 8:30?” the boy asked, slightly mollified.

  “Santa has his ways,” I said with a wink.

  Phew! That seemed to have worked, thank goodness. I handed out the presents, which the kids quickly opened. Then they looked over at me. Okay, what should I do next?

  I suggested we sing a few Christmas songs, which they enjoyed, and then we took a few photos like I’d seen Santas in shoppi
ng malls do. Still feeling a little awkward and not knowing how long they expected me to stay, I heard the mother asking me if I’d like to have something to eat. The family had already finished dinner, but they had some leftovers, and Mom was eager to make up a plate for me. “Really, Santa, it’s no trouble. Would you like some?”

  Five pairs of eyes stared at me, waiting for my answer. I certainly didn’t want to offend this family by refusing their generous offer. With more time to consider the situation (or experience under my Santa belt), I would have politely declined. But I felt put on the spot for a quick answer, so before I knew it, I replied, “Sure, I’d love some. Thank you so much.”

  Mistake number three.

  As I sat there eating in front of the entire family, I felt incredibly uncomfortable. The real Santa is a mythical icon—he doesn’t stay for dinner! He comes in the middle of the night and, at most, grabs a few cookies off a plate and washes them down with a glass of milk. I realized that while in the red suit, I’d have to take care not to break character. Santa meant too much to people to see him do mundane things. Later on, I didn’t use a cell phone in public while dressed as Santa, or refer to my wife as anything other than Mrs. Claus. And I certainly didn’t sit at a table and polish off a plate of meatloaf and potatoes!

  I’d ultimately learn from this mistake, but that night, I was stuck. As I worked my way through a full dinner, the children took the opportunity to ask me all sorts of questions. After a few more Christmas seasons, I learned to field these kinds of questions with ease. But that night, I might as well have been a parent caught putting presents under the tree, fumbling for an explanation.

  “Santa, why didn’t I get the big-girl bicycle I asked you for?” asked the little girl, who appeared to be all of four years old.

  Why indeed? Having a child of my own right around her age (and of course being a professional safety inspector), I had my own thoughts on why a bicycle might not be a good idea just yet, but that wasn’t for me to say. So I stayed vague. “I’ll have to check my records on that one and get back to you.”

  Then the middle child, a boy, piped in with, “Can I get a video game next year?”

  Praying this wasn’t breaking some family code of theirs regarding video games, I said, “Well, if you’re good, you might get one.”

  “How good?” he wanted to know.

  “Umm…really good?” I answered. I was feeling my way through this, so it came out more like a question.

  Thankfully, the oldest boy tossed out another question before his brother could interrogate me further. Wow, they were relentless! Once again trying to crack the mystery of Santa, he said, “Hey, where’s your reindeer and sleigh?”

  Okay, now this one I could answer! My mind suddenly leapt to the scene in Miracle on 34th Street where Santa is in the courtroom and they bring in a reindeer and tell him to make it fly to prove he’s Santa Claus. Remembering Santa’s answer in the movie, I said a hearty, “Ho, ho, ho! Everyone knows that reindeer can only fly on Christmas Eve.” Phew, dodged another one!

  If I stayed much longer, who knows what these kids would be asking next. So I quickly finished eating and got up from the table. I thanked their mom for the wonderful meal and said, “Well, it’s getting close to Christmas, and Santa has to go back to the North Pole. Merry Christmas, everyone!”

  And off I went into the December night.

  IT’S BEEN TWENTY YEARS SINCE THAT HOME visit. It was the first of many, so I’ve had lots of time and chances to perfect my answers. During an unexpected Santa Claus moment at a U-Haul rental facility several years later, I figured out how to answer the all-too-common “Why didn’t I get the [insert inappropriate gift here] I asked you for?”

  As I was waiting in line at the counter, I felt a pair of eyes on my back and turned to see a boy of about eight staring at me. I gave him a friendly smile and subtle wave, but the boy had a look on his face that I’ve come to know well. He knew that he’d cornered Santa, and he had an important matter to discuss.

  “I didn’t get the BB gun I asked you for,” he said bluntly.

  Ah. An unhappy customer. “Oh, well, you’ve got to be really good to get a gift like that.”

  “But I have been good!” he said with obvious indignation. His voice carried that certain challenge in it that children can muster so well.

  “Are you sure? Were you completely good all the time?” I asked, hoping he’d admit to doing something naughty at some point so I could get myself (and Santa Claus) out of trouble. I glanced over at his parents who were watching with amusement from across the room as their son grilled Santa, silently praying they’d come over and lend me a hand, but no luck.

  “Sure I’m sure!” he demanded. “I tried extra hard to be good all the time so you’d bring me a BB gun. And you should know that I was good all the time! You watch me—it says so in the song!”

  It seemed as though I was being cross-examined on the witness stand by an accomplished attorney. I quickly realized that the old standby of “You’ve got to be really good” wouldn’t work this time, and I needed to think of another way of explaining why this little boy hadn’t gotten the BB gun he so desperately wanted. Even more than that, my answer had to make sense to a child and not break any of the established “rules” of Santa Claus, which included, most of all, that good children get what they want for Christmas.

  I was getting a little flustered. How could I possibly explain to this boy why his parents hadn’t given him a BB gun, for goodness’ sake?

  Then it hit me. Not only did I suddenly have the answer, but it seemed so obvious that it felt almost as if I’d always known this fact and had only just remembered it.

  I got down on one knee and looked the little boy right in the eye. “Okay, let me tell you something really important about deciding which presents to deliver to little boys and girls. You see, Santa would never give you something that your parents wouldn’t want you to have or didn’t think you were ready for. Many times, parents will contact Santa saying that they know their son wants a BB gun, but they’re worried that he might hurt himself with it because he’s so young. Or Santa will get an email saying, ‘My daughter is too little to have a cell phone. She might lose it or break it, even if she doesn’t mean to. We want her to learn to be more responsible and become a little older before she gets one.’”

  The little boy hung on every word as I continued. “If I went against the wishes of your parents, they might not invite me into your house the next year. And that wouldn’t be any fun, would it?”

  “It’d be awful!” he agreed.

  “And imagine if, heaven forbid, you got hurt playing with a toy I’d given you. I’d feel terrible! So what I do is listen carefully to what children want for Christmas to give me a good idea of the kinds of toys they like. Then I try to give them appropriate presents that are as close as possible to what the children asked for.”

  He nodded. “Okay, I get it.”

  “So let me ask you something,” I continued. “Did you still have a good Christmas, even though you didn’t get everything you wanted?”

  He thought for a second. “Yeah…”

  “Well, that’s what’s important,” I said with a smile.

  “But I really want a BB gun! What should I do?” he pleaded, hoping to get some advice from the big guy himself on how to work the system.

  Another big question: How do I earn the toy I want? The boy had obviously been giving this a lot of thought.

  This question was easy, though. “Part of what you need to do is show your parents that you’re ready for something like that. Make sure you do your chores and act responsibly. And when your mom or dad thinks you’re ready for a BB gun, one of them will get in touch with me and let me know. Does that sound fair?”

  “Yeah,” he said.

  By this point, the boy’s father had wandered over. As the dad heard me finishing up, I saw him smile and give me the thumbs-up, letting me know I’d done well.

  I’ve used this
same answer in various forms countless times over the years. In fact, I’ve actually elaborated on it a bit, like when I encounter children with a really long wish list of toys—or ones that want to know why they didn’t get everything they asked for last year. I tell them that if Santa gave them everything on their list, he would be spoiling them. And parents don’t like to have spoiled children any more than they like to have spoiled milk. So Santa makes sure to give just enough presents without giving too much, so that children and their parents are both happy. If children knew that they would always get everything on their Christmas list, then they would never be surprised on Christmas morning, and Santa loves to surprise children.

  These days, I usually finish off by telling children the following thing, which always makes them giggle: “You know, I’ve never had any child call me up at the North Pole and say, ‘I don’t like the present you gave me! Come back here and get it, and give me what I asked for!’ Not that I ever would, of course.”

  And you know what? Almost all children accept that. When you think about it, Santa has some very ambiguous rules. So when an adult, or Santa himself, explains more clearly how things work when asking for and getting presents—just like that little boy at the U-Haul counter—most kids will say, “Yeah, I get it.”

  AND THEN, OF COURSE, COMES THE BIGGEST question of all: “Are you really Santa Claus?”

  With time grizzling my beard and adding extra padding to my belly, even I’ll admit that I now look an awful lot like Santa, even in plain clothes. So I get this question a lot, everywhere I go. I may have made some fumbles in my early years as Santa, but after two decades of fielding questions from inquisitive children, some trial and error, and a whole lot of Christmas inspiration, I know how to answer this one. Whenever a child asks me this question, I’ll bend down so I’m at their eye level, give a wink, and whisper the truth: “Well, now…that’s for you to decide.”

  FOUR