Santa’s life is not an easy one. Oh, there is plenty of the joy and happiness
and ho-ho-ho laughter, all those things that Santa stands for in the
world. But in today’s enlightened,
social-media-friendly world where information can be passed seemingly faster
than the speed of light, Santa faces several conundrums that are not easily
dealt with.
Case in point: Santa’s 3-year old granddaughter, Linnea,
whom we most affectionately call Linnie, she of the firm mind and undaunted
spirit. Linnie, along with her 12
cousins of the Santa and Mrs. Santa lineage, had observed in our Claus career last
year that Grandma and Grandpa would occasionally put on the red velvet suits
and go out and about as the happy couple.
The questions were inevitable, so Grandma Claus and I decided to be
proactive and tell them all the truth before the questions started – that Grandma
and Grandpa were only some of Santa’s ‘helpers’, because the real Santa needed
lots of helpers to visit all the little boys and girls in the world. The plan worked well – last year.
So this year, little Linnie was present when Santa emerged
from his ‘dressing room’ – and Linnie’s face lit up like the star on top of the
Christmas tree.
“Grandpa, you’re Santa Claus, aren’t you.” No question – more of a declaration.
I started in with my pre-arranged explanation. “Well, Linnie, Grandpa is not Santa, I’m
only one of his . . . “
Linnie interrupted, fists on hips and with a stern look on
her face which said that she wasn’t putting up with any more of Grandpa’s
stories. “NO, Grandpa!” She said, with a look that would put any man to
cringing in his fur-topped boots. “You
ARE Santa!”
And she stormed away, having put both Grandpa and Santa
Claus in their rightful place.
I guess I’ll just have to live with it.
Santa survived that encounter with a sure-minded 3-year old
to enjoy something in the neighbourhood of about seven hundred children on his
knee this Christmas season. I am pleased
to report that my knees survived, along with the rest of me. (It was only due to the TLC that Mrs. Santa
brings along on every visit).
I have spent my life studying people, and the Santa
believers are the most interesting people I have ever encountered. About 75% of the under 2 crowd will NOT go
anywhere near Santa, suffering from what social scientists call ‘coulrophobia’:
fear of clowns. I understand this
affliction perfectly. Whenever I look in
the mirror, I wonder that anyone would want to come near. We always reassure the parents of the
coulrophobic little ones that “s/he’ll feel better about Santa next year.”
At the other end of the spectrum are the late pre-teen
crowd, who have discovered the truth about Santa and who are reluctant to sit
on my knee and participate in what they feel is an elaborate deception, somehow
meant to make them seem silly. Many of
them will still come, reluctantly, and I try to reassure them that they are not
silly, rather that they are only helping to bring some happiness into a world that
desperately needs more of it.
The middle grouping, from about age 3-10, are the smiling,
happy crowd for whom Santa exists fully and benevolently. And this is my report card for 2014: the world of my future will be in good hands,
because today there are THOUSANDS of young ones who have a smile that will not
stop. From 5-year old Arrabella whose
smile was so infectious I still smile to myself, filled with the love of happy
child, when I think of it; to 10-year old Jake, afflicted with Down’s, whose
smile told me that even with his challenges in life he was as happy a young man
as he could be.
This smile phenomenon tells Santa much, without a word being
spoken. It tells me that today’s parents
are in fact bringing their children up in happiness, teaching them, raising
them with love and a hope for a better future.
It tells me that in a world that appears on all fronts to be going to pot,
that there are still plenty of smiles out there amongst what I can only conclude
to be the quiet – and happy – majority. Yes,
of course there is much to be done, much sadness to banish – but there are
plenty of smiles out there with which to fight the good fight.
It tells me there is hope for the future. And that any time now, when my daughter puts
me in a seniors’ rest home as she often threatens to do when I tell groaner
jokes or silly stories, that there will be plenty of smiling people around to
look after me, when I need it the most.
I’m glad to have had every one of those 700-odd smiles this
year. I hereby dub 2014 the Year of the
Smile!
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a very merry 2015!
Keep Smiling!!