“Hey, Santa, wait a sec,” he said. “Would you mind if I came inside with you? I’d love to see the expression on the kids’ faces when they see you.”
“How about this?” I said. “Why don’t you go in first? Then you can introduce me.”
“I’d really enjoy that, thanks!” he said, grinning. So I stood back a little and waited for him to ring the doorbell. When the door opened, I could see a bunch of children inside, all looking for Santa. They seemed surprised and disappointed to see a policeman instead. The officer took a step inside but kept the door propped just a crack so he could open it and let me in. I tiptoed up to listen to his introduction.
“Wow! There’s quite a storm outside!” the officer said loudly. “In fact, there’s a Level 3 Snow Emergency! Do any of you kids know what that is?” I heard a bunch of quiet mumbles. “Well, it’s when a blizzard is so bad that only police cars and fire trucks are allowed to be on the roads. No one else is allowed to drive right now. In fact, if I saw somebody out driving in this storm, I could arrest them.”
I heard a lot of children saying “Wow!” and muttering after he said that. When the voices faded, the officer continued. “But then I saw someone who’s allowed to be out in a Level 3 Snow Emergency because he’s so important. And I followed him here. I think you already know who I’m talking about…”
He opened the door wide, and I walked in with a loud, “Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas!” The children cheered and ran to hug me, yelling “Santa! Santa! Santa!”
The officer stayed for a few minutes, asking the folks in charge if they might need anything, and then he headed back out to continue patrolling the highways. The children all said good-bye, and then we sang some songs and I told a few stories (including the story of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, of course).
I handed out the small gift toys, and then one by one, the children climbed onto my lap to have pictures taken and talk to Santa. Zachary’s mother had shown me a photo of her son the previous day, and when he climbed up onto my lap, I said, “And you must be Zachary!”
Zachary told me he’d been good and how he made a lot of friends living there in the children’s home. Then he eagerly listed all the toys he wanted for Christmas. “But I really wish I could see my mom,” he said, suddenly looking a little sad.
“Well, Zachary,” I confided, leaning over to whisper into his ear. “Your mother actually gave me a special message to share with you when I came here, but don’t tell anyone else, okay?”
Zachary looked excited. “Okay, Santa! What did she say?”
“Your mom told me that she loves you very, very much. She knows you’re such a good boy, and she’s trying really hard to get you back. And she’ll never stop trying. You’ve just got to keep believing in her.”
Zachary gave me a big hug and a smile. I smiled back as he got down off my lap.
By the time I’d finished with the last child, one of the grown-ups told me that the worst of the storm had passed and that the authorities had opened the roads again.
As I turned to say good-bye to all of the children, I left them with one final thought. “I want you all to remember something very important, all right?” The children nodded as they paid careful attention. “Even though you’re in this particular situation right now, you all need to know that you’re loved—each of you. You’re not being punished. You see, Santa knows a secret, and I’ll share it with all of you right now. Ready?”
Again, the children nodded and listened closely. “There’s no such thing as a bad child or parent. There’s only bad behavior. Everyone gets onto Santa’s naughty list at least once. Sometimes it’s a lot of times. That’s just the way people are. Children make mistakes, and—believe it or not—sometimes grown-ups and parents make mistakes, too. But that doesn’t mean that they’re bad. Santa knows that people are good, and they have to be given a second chance. And that’s why I always make it a point to check my list twice. There’s always hope. Things might not be perfect right now, but there’s always a chance they’ll get better, maybe even in ways you never imagined…you just have to believe.”
And with that, I wished everyone a Merry Christmas and headed out into the chilly winter night.
SIXTEEN
A Santa for All Ages
WHILE I MAY NOT HAVE SET OUT AT FIRST to become Santa Claus, I’ve lived many magical moments since that serendipitous day in Charleston that have turned me into a lifelong believer in the spirit of Christmas. I’ve seen twinkles of joy in countless children’s eyes and more Christmas miracles than any man should expect to in one lifetime. I’ve witnessed the restoration of faith in grown-ups who considered themselves too old or disenchanted to believe, and I’ve had my own heart healed and uplifted again and again through the mysterious power of the red suit.
I remember so many of the folks I’ve met along the way who made my life as Santa inspiring and fun. But no one has ever embodied the indomitable spirit of loving both Santa Claus and Christmas quite like Lottie.
During one season as Santa-in-residence at a mall in New England, it was nearing Christmas Day, and the lines to see Santa Claus had grown very long. People waited hours just to take their photo with Santa, and so I was a little surprised and certainly impressed to see a woman of fairly advanced years walk up the carpet to my chair. But the long wait standing in line didn’t seem to have affected her, and she hopped right up, threw both her legs sideways across my lap, and put her arms around me.
“So what’s your name, little girl?” I asked mischievously.
She smiled and said, “I’m Lottie. And I’ll have you know that I’ve had my picture taken with Santa Claus each year since before I was born.”
“Ho, ho, ho!” I laughed. “Since before you were born? And how did you manage that, Lottie?”
“I have a photo of my mother, pregnant with me, sitting on Santa’s lap with his ear pressed up to her belly, listening to my Christmas wish from inside the womb. Then each year from then forward, I had my picture taken with Santa Claus. First it was just me. Then it was me and my brother, and then me and my two brothers.
“By the time I was in high school, my brothers wouldn’t take their picture with Santa anymore. But I still did. Then, when I went away to college, that first year I had my picture taken with Santa, and I sent it to my mother. The following year, I took my Santa picture with my first-ever boyfriend. The year after that, I had my picture taken with a different boyfriend.”
She gave me a smile and a wink, and I smiled back, wanting to hear more of her story.
“Later on, I took pictures of Santa with me and my husband, then with our children in them, too. When the last of our children moved away, I went back to taking pictures with just me and my husband.
“Then my husband passed away. But by that point, there started to be grandchildren who would come to visit, so I would take my Santa Claus photos with them.”
“And you still have all of these pictures?” I asked, amazed.
“Oh, yes,” she said. “Every one from the womb on through last Christmas. In fact, I was showing them all to my daughters, who were trying to figure out what to do for my eightieth birthday, which is coming up right after Christmas. They’ve decided to have all the photos enlarged, framed, and hung on the walls at my party, and then put them into a special bound book. They’re going to call it ‘My Lifelong Affair with Santa Claus.’ So I need a special picture this year.”
And with that, she raised up her right hand to cup my beard and leaned in to kiss me on the cheek. The photographer snapped off several photos in that pose, and then Lottie got up and thanked me, telling me that this photo would be on the cover of the book her daughters were making.
“I plan to live a long time,” she said. “So every ten years after this, we’re going to rebind the book with the next ten photos for everyone in the family.”
“That’s such a wonderful legacy for your children and grandchildren,” I said, truly impressed and inspired by this woman who
m I had met only a few short minutes before.
She grinned. “And I intend to keep doing it as long as this old body can still get out here to the mall to see you.”
“Lottie,” I said quietly, “I want to give you something.” I leaned over and asked one of the helpers to get me one of my business cards, and I handed it to her. “I’m sure you’re going to live a lot more years,” I whispered into her ear, “but if it’s ever Christmastime and you find that you’re too sick to come see me, give me a call, and I’ll come to see you. It doesn’t matter where you are; I’ll get there. If you’re in a hospital, I’ll come right up to your room and take a picture with you by your bed. All you have to do is call me.”
I feel incredibly grateful to have met folks like Lottie during my life as Santa. They’ve made me as happy as the real Santa Claus could ever hope to be. Every time that I have a Santa Claus encounter, whenever someone recognizes me, reaches out to me with a friendly greeting, handshake, or hug, or simply gives me a smile, it reminds me that the spirit of Christmas can be held in your heart at any age and on any day of the year.
I’ve learned firsthand that Christmas is magic—pure and simple. It remains the one holiday when people will go out of their way to be extra nice and generous to others. It is a chance for us to put the stress of everyday life on hold for just a bit and celebrate all the joys and inherent goodness of humanity. Christmas reminds us of happy memories and big wishes for the future that might just come true. All we need to do is believe, and keep our eyes and hearts open for those unmistakable flashes of Christmas magic that show up whether we’re eight years old or eighty.
So far, Lottie hasn’t called me. But if and when she ever does, I fully intend to keep my promise to come to her bedside for a photo—no matter how far I have to travel.
After all, that’s what Santa would do.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Sal would like to thank…
Jonathan Lane, my collaborator on this book—While I might be an entertaining storyteller, Jonathan is a true wordsmith. We worked together for more than two years on this wonderful book, recording more than fifty hours of telephone interviews and drilling down into the vaults of my memory until every important detail had been unearthed for Jonathan to organize and write up with me. I can honestly say that without Jonathan involved, this book would never have gotten written.
Linda Lizard, my wife—It’s not easy being married to Santa Claus. Each Christmas season, her husband all but disappears for two or three months. And I’m also away from home at other times during the year, leaving poor Linda to manage the home front all by herself. It’s been challenging at times, and I don’t take the time to thank Linda for her patience, understanding, and support nearly enough. So I want to use this opportunity to put it down in writing for all to see. Thank you, Linda. I love you, too.
Jonathan would like to thank…
Sal Lizard, the world’s best Santa Claus—When I first heard some of Sal’s Santa stories, I said, “You need to write a book!” Although Sal had thought about such a project, he tended to get really busy and hadn’t really gotten anywhere. So I said, “Hey, maybe I could help you write it!” What followed was a two-year odyssey during which I learned so many incredible things about this truly inspirational man, and we developed a close connection—even across three thousand miles—a friendship that I’ve come to cherish. Sal has an amazing memory, and I continue to marvel at all he’s experienced and accomplished in his life.
William B. Stanford, my father-in-law—A first-time author like myself, my father-in-law inspired me by writing his own book and getting it published. In his case, the book was about the amazing life his parents had experienced in France during World War II (it’s called Lizzi and Fredl: A Perilous Journey of Love and Faith, and it’s a must-read). William spent years interviewing his parents and turning their stories into an engrossing manuscript. He then managed to find a publisher and get his book into stores, proving to me and others that even a novice, unpublished author can still make it to the big time.
Dedee Lane, my mother—A teacher of reading and English for nearly fifty years, Mom was my first editor. She pushed me to delve ever deeper into Sal’s thoughts and feelings to provide more emotional insight into his stories and enrich the reading experience. Mom caught more typos than I could ever count and, along with my father, Arthur, played cheerleader through what was a roller-coaster ride on the road to publication. They never stopped believing in Santa and also in Sal and me.
Wendy Lane, my wife—Each day as I wrote this book, Wendy headed off to a very demanding job while I stayed home and took care of our brand-new son, Jayden. She would have so loved to spend more time with Jayden, and maybe, if this book is successful, that can still happen. In the meantime, though, I see Wendy’s dedication and hard work, and I know that I can never thank her enough for the sacrifices she makes each and every day of our lives together with our beautiful son. I love you so much, honey.
Sal and Jonathan together would like to thank…
Scott Waxman, our literary agent—As first-time authors, neither of us had any clue how this whole process works. Scott was very patient, professional, and always friendly and helpful at every step of the way. We couldn’t have asked for a better agent to represent us.
Jessica Sindler, our editor—Not knowing what to expect after finding a publisher for our book, we felt a little nervous going into the editorial process. But our editor was as nice as nice could be, a true joy to work with. We learned that editors strive to make a book come out perfectly, and Jessica’s suggestions were spot-on. We love our editor!
Debra Goldstein, industry veteran—The waters of professional publication can be unpredictable and, at times, even treacherous, especially to novices like us. Deb brought her many years of knowledge and experience to help guide our manuscript to a safe harbor and bring this wonderful book to all of you. We couldn’t have done it without you, Deb.
The entire Gotham publishing team—From president William Shinker to the marketing and publicity teams, everyone has been so wonderful to us. They all believe in Santa Claus, and they believe in our book. We’re so honored to have such a great publishing company to help bring Being Santa Claus to Christmas enthusiasts everywhere.
The more than four thousand members of STARFLEET, the International Star Trek Fan Association—Yes, Santa is a Trekkie, and so is his cowriter. In fact, that’s how we met. Sal was president of the STARFLEET International fan club, serving a three-year term, and Jonathan was his chief of communications. Both Sal and Jonathan have spent decades in this wonderful organization, developing close friendships and having lots of fun. So we wanted to make sure our beloved fan club got mentioned somewhere in this book. And if you know a Star Trek fan out there somewhere, send them to www.sfi.org to sign up.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
SAL LIZARD has been playing Santa Claus professionally for more than twenty years. He lives in Georgia with his wife, Linda (aka Mrs. Claus).
JONATHAN LANE has worked as both a teacher and, before that, as a creative director for Nestlé’s Willy Wonka website, Wonka.com. Jonathan lives in Southern California with his wife and son.
Being Santa Claus : What I Learned About the True Meaning of Christmas (9781101600528) Page 14