Seasons Change

 On an insignificant morning of an insignificant day a family of four arrived at my Santa set. It didn’t begin in any noteworthy way. Dad was present but uninvolved, Mom was very involved, which often is easily interpreted as overbearing tho’ this mom was not. She had put considerable thought into how her children observed all of the traditions of Christmas, least of which is Santa.

She seemed to recognize both the boon to the imagination and childhood fantasy that is Santa, but also the depth of the representation held in the lore of Santa, his goodness and his generosity and selflessness.

Mom, while watching her children meet Santa and getting the traditional Santa photos to keep and mark memories of the development of her young ones, was telling a member of my team about preparing to tell her eight year old the whole truth about Santa as he had begun asking questions that had an obvious outcome and she wanted to be prepared for the eventuality.

I was completely impressed with her foresight, though I learned much of this after her departure. 

A bit later that day she and her tribe were walking by to shop at one more store and I called to her and asked if I may speak to her. Dad and the children continued on to a nearby shop and we spoke for a few minutes.

I told her that my staff member had shared her story with me and I admitted that this was a topic that many in the Santa community had put some thought into and I shared some of those thoughts with her. 

She had already decided to “let him in on the secret” (though his visit with Santa on this morning was enough to quell any questions this season) which is not only one way of softening the blow but possibly a source of pride to become part of an “adult society”. I suggested that she might take him to a coffee shop to “have the talk” and I gave her a challenge coin, something I picked up mail order, very ornate but inexpensive and suggested that she invite him to invest himself by choosing someone to give a gift to, earning the money for the gift and giving the gift without taking any credit, for that is the way of the true Christmas Spirit.

She thanked me as she was on her way pre-planning a milestone in the life of her son.

You don’t know, do ya'

 Monday was a bit slow, as Mondays can be. There were of course, children whose very demeanor was encouraging as they came to my chair to to sit. Some on the spectrum, and some able to express what their thoughts about Christmas and their family. Actually, sometimes even when they are on the spectrum you can see how they feel about their family thru and behind their eyes.

I like to encourage parents who feel the pressure of exposing their child to the world and sometimes exposing the world to their child. Some of them can be a bit much. 

But the high point for me was a… I don’t even know if he was a parent to be honest. He and his wife and cohort in many adventures that he told me about and likely some that he didn’t even allude to, but the stories came with pictures.
He had a marvelous beard. One that I am truly envious of. Thick, full, I believe his natural color, he shaved his head so what do I know, and about the length that mine has grown to (in years). He said it would be twice it’s length in eighteen months. Envy and jealousy and covetous, those were my three issues.
And he showed me pictures of things where he had gone with a theme- a beautiful red white and blue dye job as well as a picture where he teased out his beard into an immense bush and dyed it pink in a gambit to make fifty thousand dollars for breast cancer awareness.
We talked for about fifteen or twenty minutes and I had the opportunity to encourage him to go forward with his plan to let it go white and be Santa. He and his wife spend Christmas in Mexico and he told me that the people there tell there children that Santa’s beard is dark until it changes with the snow, so they tell their children that Santa has come to check on them. Of course they assume he doesn’t speak Spanish and he doesn’t let them know tat he is carrying an AI interpreter in his pocket so he doesn’t miss much. He has had ideas but no real rudder for when he started. I gave him a challenge coin to remember the things we talked about and I think he’s going to come by again and I’ll give him a card. Maybe I’ll be able to teach him a bit. Maybe I’ll be able to introduce him to a deeper Santa heart.
Here’s hopin’.

Some History of 2024

Today was the first day of the season, nearly two weeks before Thanksgiving, Uffda.

Spent time with the old gang today, Jack and Sally, Elsa, Anna and Olaf, the indomitable Grinch… 
I played a game with the Grinch, although he was more subject to than of. I did the very UnSantable thing and sneaked up behind him while he was distracted by children and I hooked three candy canes in the back of his jacket. He had no idea until sometime after I left a child asked him if they could have a candy cane. He didn’t know he had any and so he told them and they told him he had candy canes on the back of his jacket- We had a pretty good laugh about it.

A child, a wonderful child with a dirty face and hair just slightly unkempt, offered me a drink of his beverage which I was forced to turn down. Children can be so very generous, it touched my heart.

We have a couple ladies whose family gets involved doing set dressing. I think they have covered over one hundred boxes by now at their own expense. Last year they purchased a dozen stuffed animals that we named (and they still remember the names) and this year their brother has joined the team with half s dozen more including an otter and a goat so the set looks grand.

I want to tell you about one other child when I was just outside of Dublin at a motorway rest area which is a nice little area of commerce. A convenience store a number of food retailers selling chicken, pizza, ulster fries, sausage rolls- many of the spectrum of foods available in Eire are represented.

I ate my meal and got up to go- and I don’t know the moment I was spotted, but this lovely little, I’d guess, three year old girl saw me and caught my eye on my way out. She was adorable but mute, as was her older brother- he was more stunned, and mom and dad watched this unfold. 

I stopped by their table and said “Hi”. This beautiful little girl looked up at me with beautiful eyes and behind them was a whir of thoughts on generosity. She turned and looked at her lunch, which was nearly finished, arranged a piece of chicken that she wasn’t quite finished with, and held that little lunch box up to me in an offer to share in her meal.

Of course I thanked her and praised her generosity, quickly departing because I can only take so much cute at a time. I will be remembering that sweet little Irish lass for some time to come. 

Today was an adventure and a time of new beginnings, new winter beginnings. We will see what tomorrow will bring. Hopefully more good cheer and welcome to the love of family and friends. The thing that the world makes this day about instead of hatred and division. 

One other thing, it nearly slipped my mind. A mom and two girls, one aware of a true nature of Santa and one that didn’t want to hear what Santa had to say because she had been told that she was on the “naughty list” and she didn’t want Santa to confirm it so she was in an avoidance mode.
So I told the big sister, who was fighting hard not to interject while I spoke to the little sister, to go stand with her mother… (Well I actually told her that this was between me and the little sister)- And I pulled out my trusty Naughty/Nice list. I showed her a blank side and I showed her a side with names written in elvish. I asked her if she saw her name on the naughty (the blank) side and she said “No”. I said did you see any name at all? And again she said “No”, and I said, “If your name were on the naughty list you would have seen it there. If you didn’t see it then it’s not there”. Then she settled down a bit to know that Santa isn’t not on her side- does that make sense? I followed up by telling her that no one wanted to see her on the nice list more than her mom and that if her mom told her something she could count on it being something that would help her stay on the nice list.

Then I let her go and called her sister over and told her being the big sister comes with responsibility and she needed to help her sister want to be good. If she encouraged her sister she would witness change in her little sister but she had to do her part… So, in a sense we are our siblings keeper.

So, chin up! You’re amazing and God loves you. Keep treading on higher steps, each one carries you to a better place. 

I Still Believe in Santa

A story I remember
My Tanta sharing one eve
That makes Santa my friend
Because he believes what I believe
 

Remember the night
When the angel came
The Child was born
And nought was the same
He came in a humble
He came with a star
He came to raise us
All up where we are
Feared by a king
Heralded by stars
This babe neatly swaddled
Lain in a mangers spars
Quietly watched by
both shepards and kings
Silence broken only
when the angelic sings
He gave me a vision
of hard things to come
A death on a Hill
A great offense to some
The call home to many
if not call home to all
The only rejection
Is of the author of it all
By fearful mankind
Sure God judges like he
And so proof of good gifts
God gave you me
Both naughty and nice
Good gifts give I all
based on not merit but
A person's life's call
And coal, in the winter,
not so personal a treat
as an orange or dolly
but it burns to share heat
To warm your whole household
on a cold winters night
It's something much needed
When the ground is all white
And toys, well, you make them
with things within reach
You play when you can
And when you play teach
You share what you have
then you all have each
So when you hear of Santa
abused without thought
Remember His good gifts
And how my Father wrought
A path to salvation
the best gift of all
Remember the cross
When you see Santa at the mall
But until you can know Him
who forgave as He bled
Know the kindness of a jolly
little fat man in red
And from that beginning
Where naughty becomes nice
Find a savior, messiah
He points to The Christ
For the greatest salvation
And the greatest of all gifts
It comes from a babe
Who will heal all rifts
Who lifts up our heads
 Sets our view up above
Who came to acquaint us
With the source of ALL LOVE

Lovin' Santa's of Color

I thought I had put racism pretty much behind me (People who have a vested interest in continuing the rift will arguegivetlc3 the point but they'd don't give any grace to anyovj88 objlne lookout min i'mthis year as nearly every other year prior racism (my own racism) becomes a topic for my wandering mind...
I love that there ajjuju ujvore black Santas and I get that as close to totally as I can. I want to encourage them to come out and play and there have been some get the notoriety due the current attitude of novelty toward the manifestation of Santas of color.
Numerous articles have been written this year and some of them are only catching up, I get it but can you simultaneously say "color blind" and "looks like them"?
Just a question...
A rhetorical question...
Maybe

testing123

The equipment has been sketchy at best as has everything the parent company has been responsible for. I'm pretty sure that they make pretty good money, they could afford to be a little freer with upgrades, but the way much has been handled so far this year they don't expect to be in this region next year...  That's just the wind up for todays near- miss-

Every year, a Santa is noticed on the national screen, and nearly never for the good that we do.
"Santa refuses to see a little girl because her service animal is a pit bull"
"Santa refuses to let little handicapped girl sit on his lap"
"Santa manhandles little girl to ruin mother's cell phone shots"
(This line of work is fraught with perils enough that Santa often carries an insurance rider against such lawsuits)
You never see,
"Santa watches mom watch little boy put his finger up his nose just moments before she put him on Santa's lap and hugs child anyway"
"Santa saves family's Christmas memories"
"Old fat guy gets on floor to be less intimidating to children who's anticipation reached overload"
So today I am escorted out from my sanctuary/dressing room about 5 minutes late because part of the crew had gone and ordered lunch for the crew before the shift started. Along with her, in her apron pocket, were the keys to the cupboards with all of the incidentals that make it easier to make children laugh, or at least get their attention, and while we meant well and intended to begin without ado because children come excited and will "run out" if we aren't careful when disaster struck-
The camera that we used last night to replace the camera that wouldn't talk to the computer wouldn't talk to the computer and when it did the blur was pronounced enough that, in keeping with the talking motif, it had been drinking and was slurring it's words.
(At one point I'm pretty certain that it hit on the computer in some unwanted fashion and had to be removed)
The first guy in line seemed to have some knowledge of cameras but somehow couldn't hold his mouth just right and made no headway.
IT, who by now is on speed dial and the manager refers to "Jimmy" and her new BFF has today off, but so does the manager who has forged such a great relationship with him so we were happy that the first guy in line was at least willing to try. He wasn't very happy to be taking pictures with his cell phone but he was a pretty happy guy so it really just dialed down his happy instead of dialing up his anxiety.
There were others try their hand at "pulling the sword from the stone" but it took the PIC's slow hand tactic to get us off the ground.
After a while we had winnowed the crowd down and crying baby and helicopter parent thinned out to a fairly happy crowd and the tactic changed and I wasn't sure who was in charge. The source of children had split, and I am okay with that except that the flow had changed and visiting children, children whose parents had opted out of pictures, were now funneled through the same side as the folks with reservations.
Why does this matter you ask? Because people with reservations have reservations and visitors don't have them. They specifically don't want to buy pictures, which, again, is no skin of my nose but I'm hearing about a reservation and the side without reservations is coming toward me and there is someone coming from the reservation side at the same time...
I asked the crew who was coming and the wife of the man who was paying for pictures (happened to be dark skinned maybe Hispanic maybe South Seas I don't pay a lot of attention) asked what was going on and he replied, "He wants to make sure who is paying for pictures..."
I said, "No sir, I wanted to make sure we were going in the right order, I don't care who is paying I want these children seen in the order that they got here"
The OTHER guy, the other family looked to be a middle income household who may have already opted for pictures but there children wanted to see Santa again or they just wanted to check out THIS Santa but they went second because they got there second.
This world, this culture of racism that I keep hearing about- seems to me to really often be about looking for reasons to claim offense.
Santa has been dealing with folks who are different or stand out from the crowd for as long as he's been at the North Pole and longer. Bullying and freezing out, but if you will recall he is now the most famous reindeer of all

T'was The Morning of Christmas

the children all blessed and the goals were all met
 the elves all dancing at a well deserved fete
Santa's long trip, again, down in the book
 and Mrs Claus gives him that knowing look
she warms up his cocoa after pulling off his boots
there's a plate full of cookies and she hangs up his suit
then down sits she with him as he shares wonderous tales
of aurora borealis and great windy gales
of children so good they asked gifts for their brothers
these sweet innocent cherubs often thinking of others
and Tanta, the mrs, tells how it began
with an angel, a donkey an ox and a lamb
Angels some shepherds three wise men and a girl
that day, long ago and a child to change the world

Saint Nicholas of the Mall

It's always a pleasure when someone special comes and says hi and this young lady was no exception. I heard her exclaim "SANTA!" from midway down the mall and and the excitement and the vocal tone of someone with certain special needs was clear, through her exuberance, even from that distance.
She wore a heavy wig either to try to look pretty or perhaps she suffered some type of alepecia. Many complications often accompany birth defects where the most obvious result developmental disabilities. And then there are daily complications that sometimes stem from people responsible getting tired of making sure that the things people with normal function take for granted.
This sweet young lady had a problem and she wanted Santa's help with it.
Rarely do I cross over from a typical santa to a santa that reflects my opinion on things as I respect a parents right to teach their children how they would. I talk about sharing and other things that give a child the power to contribute to their society, but this young lady would be the rare exception.
She came for a visit, no one was paying for pictures...
She came and sat next to me and I offered to help her onto my lap (as is my custom) but she resisted.
She said "Santa I have to tell you something"
Now at this point I'm just thinking that this was her way of wanting to tell me about her wish list so my immediate answer was "Yes my dear?" expecting to hear the litany of toys that she had seen in magazines and on television when she blurted out,
"I  have sores in the rash under my boobs..."
...
...
...
So what would you do?
I crossed the line and prayed, I mean who better to pray for?
Her PCAs were sitting on a bench 50 feet away and appeared glad that their charge was distracted by someone else for a minute, so I quietly prayed, "Pain go", "Rash and sores heal", pain, go...
I said "okay, I'll let you get back to your shopping" and off she went.
Her PCA asked her what we talked about and she declared that she had told me about her rash.
I know this because I heard her PCA state matter of factly, in the way that someone who is tired of someone else' simple nonsense says it and a few moments later this sweet innocent came back and said, "I'm sorry for interupting, can I just ask..."
She didn't even come near me-
"Can I maybe just have a nice sweater?"
And off she went to go about her life and those folks who guide her life went on about theirs thinking little of that chance encounter, but I continue to pray for the sore in the rash under her boobs.
Later that evening I was in a discussion about how to deal in a certain situation and I shared that story. I have no idea what bearing it had, but somehow I needed to share it. I didn't understand it at the time and I don't understand it now, but there is something about sores and rashes and dark places and friction.
Sometimes an irritation produces a pearl and sometimes it produces a sore-
ours is to be wise enough to know which

Even the Least, But are They?

They come in small groups, sometimes to shop, sometimes to just be out in public. You never know when they are coming, until you spot them and when you do- If you love them they will love you right back.
I saw them walking single file, the last one stopped dead in his tracks when he first noticed me.
I'm in the well worn path to the toy store.
He stopped... eyed me through thick glasses, I thought originally he was visually impaired but it became apparent that there was more going on.
Every four steps he would stop and peek in my direction to see what I was doing. Four steps and stop and peer, moving only his head on his neck, nothing else would change attitude or direction. Four steps and then whip his head and be still, like a heron hunting tadpoles, and then whip back and four steps.
It took him at least twice as long as it would have normally, and the counselor/guide had to, at one point, slow the group down for him in recognition of his behavior, whether uncommon or not.
I myself sat amused and wondered at his revelation... did he see through my disguise? Was he wondering that such a man, touted in story book and movie was really there? Did he fear that I was an apparition come to sneak up behind him and do him harm? Did He know that I am in fact a saint, called to bring peace and joy to this city where he finds himself making his way?
Answers I may never know, but I know that this is the best gig in town.

The protests were in full swing and the city felt a mixture of fear, unsettled and resignation. A young black man walked by our set and someone asked him if he wanted to talk to Santa. He said sure and slowly walked over, kind of dropped to the couch.
"What's going on" I asked. He said he was concerned about school and who he would become.
I said, "a fine young man like your self," and I stopped and said "look here in my eyes and hear me because this is the truth- people are looking for you, to invest in you for your future as well as theirs. You keep doing what you are doing and you're going to fulfill some dreams, more than just yours. Some dreams of other generations in your family"
"You can believe this or not, but Santa never lies..."
He popped up off of that couch and was gliding down the mall way and I knew he'd caught them vision, that he was going to see all of that come to pass when he stopped and through his fist in the air like he had been given something more than a participation trophy, he'd received a gift.

Ode to a Safety Pin

Her children leaving
Not left behind
Receiving merit
Just to be kind
Her query filled
By happy bovine
Would you like a safety pin?





                                                                                                                                                                                                                             
   
Men passing,taunting
My race rules
As though they'd offered something
Prattling fools
And she in dim light
resembled a ghoul
Did you not see my safety pin?

The world around us
losing steam
Society sounds off
in mortal scream
it's coming apart
bursting it's seam
Did you see my safety pin?

Christmas in the midst of anarchy

Twinkle twinkle Rudolph's nose
Here's the question that I pose
Can a city now named for hopeless woes
Awake in the morning and be yet a Rose

I was waiting for the beginning of the grand entry and parade, squirreled away from view in a corridor not likely to be used that time of day and a woman who I thought would just pass through.  Her eyes had an aged sorrow in them and I knew that she was part of the heart of this city. She turned to me and said, "Do you know what I want this year Santa? I want them to stop fighting."

As I was settling in the "big chair" and the children were enjoying cookies and hot chocolate that were reportedly made by Mrs Claus the children made themselves busy decorating snowflakes to hang from the tree. many of the children made gifts of them to me, explaining that they had drawn on them portraits of Rudolph and myself making the great Christmas run, beautiful, they were and carrying the magic of a childs imagination, a magic with a great power of it's own.

Shortly after the crowd of children dissipated, Rian arrived. We had great fun giving everyone a thumbs up. Rian's thumbs were double jointed and I tried not to let my jealousy show. H left reassuring me that he would be back to visit again, this year or next I know not, but I look forward just the same.

She immediately struck me as the spitting image of Cindy Lauper. They same eyes as that beautiful woman and the same sorrow as the woman I mentioned before. She wished she could take a picture and share it with her family, I didn't know if that meant a street family or not but I was sure that she had legitimate relationships there. My staff told me a place where she was pretty sure that she had noticed her frequenting.
Regardless, she came and after the coaxing many need to overcome the fear that they may somehow hurt the delicate flower that I am not and she sat on my knee. She spoke without looking at me beyond a glance, embarrassed that she couldn't afford to pay for the photograph and disappointed that she couldn't get one and then shared her Christmas list consisting of one thing... a home. A home for her and her husband.

The day wore on and more than one group of adults that could have just awakened and rolled out of a hangover encrusted bed and trying to be silly but really not quite arriving at that particular destination until my helpers spotted on young  African american man and something about him caused one of my cohorts to cajole him into sitting with me.
He sat next to me, again either being a young MAN or as so many others before him opted out of crushing my dainty snowflake visage, but regardless we had time to talk. Time to learn that he is in high school advanced placement psychology and hopes to persue that as well as media forms like television and radio.
He spent time trying to find words and was unsure how to ask for something that he knew very well was his to get, but he finally confessed that he wanted a scholarship.
I began to encourage him but he couldn't look me in the eyes for more than a moment as he spoke... I finally said, I had never asked him his name but I told him to stop and look me in the eye and hear my words.
I spoke to his destiny and told him that it was his to get, that he had it in him and that he shouldn't be surprised when it happened.
Then I sent him on his way and I noticed some swagger in his step that had been missing and at on point as he walked away he clapped his hands together in a victorious clap followed by a bit of a hop, he had a renewed hope. There had boldly crept in an anticipation of a victory that he hadn't yet caught sight of, and after all, isn't that what the hump is that we have to get over before we step into success?