Tag Archives: stocking stuffers

Santa Claus is coming. Or is he?

19 Dec

Is that Santa we see in the reflection of the pendulum?

It could be.  Santa always came to our house in the early evening hours of December 24.  When we left for the Sunday School Christmas Program our stockings were hung by the doorframes with care in hopes that, well, I’m not exactly sure what our hopes were.  Santa was sort of an enigma.  Sometimes we believed in him.  Most of the time we were ‘too smart’ for that.  Here’s what we did know about the Jolly St. Nick:

Santa was not our Pastor.
Santa was our Pastor.
He did dress as Santa.  We knew he wasn’t.  Well, we knew that Santa SOUNDED just like Pastor. We also knew that our Pastor had the only supply of spirit gum in the three county area. Two and two, you know. Regardless, his appearance at our door one pleasant December afternoon led to an epic screaming fit by the younger of us. It’s a bit of a shocker when That Guy shows up on unsuspecting, training-pants clad toddlers.

Santa only brought small, inexpensive gifts that fit inside a stocking.
Santa brought large, expensive gifts left under the tree.
At our house there was gum, candy, mints.  At our classmates’ house there was a VCR.  In 1983, a VCR.  Yeah, Santa didn’t know much about fairness.   The elder of us possibly even reprimanded a Santa once when he suggested that a doll might be a good thing for which to ask.  Obviously That Man never peaked in to see what his elves were making.

Santa’s red blinking blip on the local news weather map showed his sleigh still in northern Canada just a few minutes before we left the house.
Santa arrived in the midwest before 10:00 pm on Christmas Eve.
Mom always forgot something before we left for church and had to run back into the house while we sat in the chilly car waiting. On some random Christmases she had urgent business in our home to which she HAD to attend before Dad unloaded our sugar-laden, sleep-heavy bodies from the floor and benchseat of the family Suburban AFTER church and our family’s Christmas Eve celebration at Gramma and Grappa’s. That may have been a run-on sentence. What it meant was, “Sometimes Mom forgot.”

Santa visited vacant town halls to talk with children on stage about their greatest Christmas desires.
Santa lived in “department stores” and “parades”, whatever those were.
We can vaguely remember trepidatiously taking the backstage stairs in our town’s town hall (that was used for prom and middle school girls’ basketball practice, like most good town halls are) to terrifyingly speak to the Big Guy. We didn’t really know what to say. Duh. We were THOSE kids.

So, that’s it. Way to go, Mom. Nice work, Dad. Seriously. Or, sarcastically. You choose.


By Both of Us