Santa for real

When the stress and pressure of Christmas gets to me, I think of Christmas a few years ago, when I was a member of the Lions Club in New Minas. The club was alive with activity as we prepared for Advent. We had lots to do: getting the apple cider ready for the annual Christmas community tree lighting event, planning and organizing the seniors’ supper, visiting retirement homes, helping the needy, etc.

One day about three weeks before Christmas, I was approached by a committee member who suggested that I be Santa at the Mall for two hours. “I know you’ll do it, Roy,” he said. “The children will love you and you will have a ball.”

The idea didn’t sound very sound to me. I was 160 pounds soaking wet and I knew the Santa Claus outfit wouldn’t fit me. Also, my voice was not good enough to fake Santa’s “Ho, Ho, Ho!” – so very important to an authentic Santa Claus. “Even with a nice red suit, I wouldn’t look like Santa,” I said. “The parents and children will laugh at me and the club will be really embarrassed – and so will I! What if my grandchildren show up? They will know in a second that I’m not genuine.”

“That’s not true,” he encouraged me. “You have a nice personality, a sense of humour and a great love of for children. You can do it, Roy. There’s nothing to it. Just arrive 30 minutes before duty, get dressed and walk through the mall so the kids can see you. Head for Santa’s chair, sit down, greet the children, be merry and pass out colouring books and candy canes. Don’t forget to carry

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B2N 2N1 your bells. And don’t worry about the suit, we’ll put a couple pillows inside it.”

I knew there was no use to protest. The men wouldn’t take “no” for an answer.

A few weeks later, I was at the mall and went to a small room where I helped stuff pillows inside the Santa suit. After I put on the wig, the beard, the cap, pants, jacket, boots and glasses, I looked in the mirror. A miracle happened. I was suddenly transformed into a genuine, respectable-looking St. Nick. I tightened the black belt around my big waist and ran through the mall jingling my bells.

The response was tremendous. The children greeted me with shouts: “Here comes Santa Claus!” Hands were clapping, eyes were aglow, and the children followed me to the Santa chair, where I sat down feeling very safe and comfortable. The children got in line and with screams of delight made their way to my lap. Instead of asking them the traditional question: “What do you want for Christmas,” I asked, “What are you giving for Christmas?” One little boy said, “I am giving Daddy a new toolbox, with lots of tools and a package of band-aids.” Why? “The band-aids are for Daddy’s fingers because he’s always cutting them bad,” he replied. Another little girl said she was going to get peanut butter cookies for me and a glass of milk. I asked who would make the cookies. “Grandmother will make the cookies, Santa because Mommy can’t cook.” I had to laugh in spite of myself. I had a wonderful time with the children that evening. They were so honest. Like the little girl who said she couldn’t give Jennifer.Little@kingscountynews.ca journaladvertiser.ca 902-681-0923 much this year because her parents were separated.

While passing out the colouring books and candy canes, I couldn’t help but notice the happy faces and the sense of wonder in the eyes of the children. By this time, my glasses were falling off of my ears, the beard was dropping down to my neck and my big stomach was sliding down over my legs. But that didn’t seem to bother the children. In fact, one bright little boy said: “Santa, when I saw you in the other store this afternoon you were much bigger. What happened?” I told him that I had a very busy day and that I had to run from one store to the other – all the hurry and running made me lose weight. He replied with a magical smile, “Santa, you are working too hard. You should get Mrs. Claus to help you more. But don’t worry, I’ll have food out for you and the reindeers on Christmas Eve.”

And suddenly I got a surprise. I looked at the line of kids and noticed my grandchildren, Brianna and Joel. “Oh-oh-oh,” I thought to myself, “I’m in trouble now!” Joel refused to sit on my lap and I said, “Thank you, God.” But Brianna ran towards me, jumped on my lap and in the excitement, tore my cap off. I thought for certain she would recognize me but she never said a word and helped me put the cap back on. I said, “Have you been a good girl this year?” And she still didn’t recognize me. “I haven’t been good all the time, Santa and Joel has been bad sometimes too,” came the honest response.

The voice, messy beard and big glasses did not matter to the children. Nothing mattered to them, except the fact that I was Santa Claus. The big, red suit was not important. They looked beyond the suit to the real spirit of Santa Claus. And the most wonderful thing happened: I began to believe like the children and behave as if I was the real thing. I was the symbol of all that was good, and kind and hopeful. For a couple of hours that evening, I was what my granddaughter called “a real magician.”

I learned three important lessons from the magical experience of being Santa for a few hours: listen to the children and you will never forget the true meaning of Christmas, love and joy is like a boomerang; when you give it away it will always come right back to you, and a few magic words – ho, ho, ho – has the power to make sad faces happy, cheerless faces cheerful and mournful hearts joyful.

When I returned to the caretaker’s room over two hours later, I was emotionally drained by very happy. I removed my Santa Claus suit and left it in the box. My Lion friends congratulated me and I thought I did an excellent job.

I walked through to mall on my way to my car. No one looked at me. No one recognized me. It really didn’t matter. What really mattered was that I made some parents and children happy that special evening. And at times when I get depressed during the season, I think of that evening and what I learned. It isn’t the exterior trappings (the red suit) that makes Santa Claus any more than it is the commercialism that makes Christmas. Take the commercialism out and what remains is the true meaning of Christmas:

God gives us the wonder of Christmas

Through folk who are loving and kind

Bring us closer still as we

Share in the joy of this very special time

Roy White Darmouth, N.S.