A Few Words in Defense of St. Nick

My two cents on “The Fat Man in Red”

Last night, Nancy asked “If Isaac asked you ‘Why did you let me believe in Santa Claus?’ what would you say?”

My response was truthful. “I try not to lie about Santa. I say things like ‘Well I am too old to believe, but what have you heard?’ and then listen to him tell me about reindeer and the north pole like this is all news to me.”

This did not satisfy Nancy.

I think that belief in Santa is a “sliding scale” proposition. Eventually we all end up realizing that there are real world explanations for seemingly supernatural problems. (This is not necessarily a bad lesson to learn.) However for a very short period of time, we get to believe in the possibility of magic in our world.

Some scoff at the idea and think it is cruel to allow your child to be emotionally involved in a lie. This is a fair concern. However if a small child fell in love with Elmo on Sesame Street, would you make an effort to explain that it is just puppeteer Kevin Clash’s hand and funny voice? If you took a child to see the play “Peter Pan” would you explain that Tinker Bell is just a little flash of light and that you did not really have to clap to save her life? Would you tell them that at Disneyworld, “That’s not really Buzz Lightyear, it’s just a person in a costume?” Would you tell them how the magic trick is done as it is being performed so they don’t accidentally believe that the rabbit really appeared out of nowhere?

They will eventually figure it out on their own, and when they do, will they stop loving Elmo, or stop clapping to save Tink, or not run up and high five the local baseball team’s mascot? I hope not. I know I don’t.

How is Santa different?

Once you know that it is a trick….does it lose all of it’s meaning?

My friends Steve and Anna Marie had two college age daughters who were home from school for Christmas. Santa visited on Christmas Eve night and left a few presents for the girls. When the girls got out of bed they went and woke their parents up and said, “There are no boot prints around the fireplace and the cookies aren’t gone. We are going back to bed for 10 minutes. Santa can try a little harder.”

When I think back on the things that Santa brought to me as a kid, I realize how closely my parents paid attention to my sister and I. I still remember laying my eyes on “Bug World” under the tree on Christmas morning. That was the one big present I wanted that year and Santa nailed it. I have heard stories about my mom looking in every toy store in Orlando and Gainesville to find a “Little house on the Prairie” doll for my sister. I remember the Christmas of Atari 2600 games when I received the “Empire Strikes Back” game for my cutting edge gaming console. I know now that there were a number of lean years, but we never went without. I was way too old to truly “Believe”, but still was just wowed by the G.I. Joe Tactical Battle platform when it showed up one Christmas.

In retrospect, I realize that my parents allowed me to believe for a few short years that there really is magic in this world.

I remember the first time my suspicion was confirmed. I was playing in the creek next to Douglas Maxwell’s house and he said “You know that Santa is really your parents, right?” Now of course I knew it, but had never heard the words out loud. I don’t remember being mad or upset. It was just another milestone in growing up like losing a tooth, first day of school or first crush. The world did not end, and even though I knew the trick, I still played along, and was still amazed every single time.

Isaac is smart. He is sliding towards the truth, and that is okay. He told me once that I brought all of the presents downstairs on Christmas Eve night (A fair observation since presents from the family are mixed in with “Old St. Nick’s”). In the spirit of “Mythbusters” I offered him a way to test his theory scientifically. I told him that if he wanted me to, I would promise him that I would not bring any presents downstairs at all on Christmas Eve. He thought about it and decided that he didn’t think that was a good idea.

I try not to play up “Santa” much. There are many other things going on at Christmas that I want to emphasize, although the way the radio, TV, and stores ram him down your throat oversaturation is almost unavoidable. I never threaten bad behavior with “Santa” is watching. I play the part of the skeptic who always seems a little bit clueless as to how the “magic” happened.

A couple of Christmas Eves ago, I tucked a very excited Isaac into bed and we talked for a while about Santa and opened the window and looked at the sky…trying to catch a glimpse of a red streak across the sky. We snuggled and talked and looked and waited and for just a second, I thought to myself “I wish he would hurry up and fly by because I have to get downstairs and put together a bike tonight.” It was then that I realized that even though I know how the trick works….it still catches me off guard.

There are of course the troubling parts of the story…why some kids don’t get anything, why some kids will always get much much more than they do, and why the Cohen family goes out for Chinese instead. I remember getting into a schoolyard shouting match with kids who kept trying to convince me how much better Hanukah was. These can be teachable moments about greed, sharing, wealth, poverty, charity, other religions, and our world.

There is a group in New York called “Improv Everywhere”. They played a prank called “Best Gig Ever”. They picked a new band called “Ghosts of Pasha” and 35 of IE’s agents downloaded and memorized the band’s first CD. They showed up on masse to the show (of which there were 3 paying customers) and screamed requests, sang along, wore home made “Ghosts of Pasha” t shirts and generally acted like G.O.P. were one of their favorite bands.

The band was stoked and played a high energy if somewhat bewildered set. At the end, the agents quietly left the bar. The band found out later it was all a hoax, and had to ask themselves the question, “Is it better to have one night of being insanely famous and loved and finding out later it wasn’t real, or to never have a night like that ever.

“I don’t know about you, but I feel like I have one life to live, and I choose to forever believe in what I felt that night. It’s my memory, and just because I was told it wasn’t real, doesn’t mean it didn’t feel real TO ME. What do I care just as long as I had a GREAT TIME?”
-Chris Partyka, GOP

I like to think that to be able to believe in magic for a very short time is better than never believing at all.

Strength and Honor
Big Matt