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Be the Santa You Know You Are
December. It’s Wednesday. It’s cold outside. The snow, comes and goes. The local parades are sorrily missed by our family (and yours too, I’m sure) but the lists are being made and people are shopping or crafting and baking or shopping a bit more. The Sally Ann bells are ringing, here and there, and the CAS Angels are on the tree. The food bank shelves are waiting for our donations. It’s December. The holiday season is heading our way.
Off and on, over the years I have written about my firm belief in Santa Claus. I do believe in Santa Claus and, as you know, I don’t mean the shopping mall Santa or the Christmas card Santa or even the Santa in the songs and stories, nope. Put the idea of a red-suited, fluffy bearded, shiny-blackbooted and the sleigh-full-of-toys-commandeering Santa right out of your mind. For that matter, drop the notion of a jolly old elf who delivers gifts to the children of world in one evening. I have been writing about the Santa Claus each of us can become, if we choose. Maybe I wasn’t very articulate in years gone by, because several people have asked me if I really believe I am Santa then why don’t I dress like Santa (being built like Santa obviously isn’t enough). So, here’s the “this” about “that” about the real Santa Claus I know I am. Santa Claus, the real one, is always cleverly disguised. If you choose to be the real Santa you get to wear your comfy blue jeans, or pyjama pants and a T-shirt or, well, whatever you want to wear. Wearing something comfortable makes the job of being the real Santa much easier and less distracting to others who might not want to believe or perhaps aren’t ready to believe. Comfort is so important when you take on the role of being Santa. I believe we all have the potential to be Santa —in December or year round.
I didn’t re-believe in Santa or even know I could be Santa until about twenty years ago. Like most people, I hadn’t believed in Santa since I was seven, maybe eight years old. Until about twenty years ago Christmas had become one big headache. The rush and the crush of shopping, baking, cooking and entertaining drained my bank account and filled me with dread and anxiety. At the time, I really needed to get my mind into a better place and climb out of the dumpster my career had fallen into. My good friend Susan more or less hinted I might consider getting off my whiny arse and help her with the CAS Angel Campaign. Well, she was a bit more polite than that, and she had made it sound like it could be fun. She even promised I’d feel better if I helped her. Ho Ho Ho. I wasn’t sure if I was going to fall for it, but stranger things had happened. At the time, Susan was the Chief Angel in the annual CAS campaign, my good friend, my former co-worker and more than anything else, she needed people to physically sort, pack, wrap, and deliver hundreds of gifts to dozens and dozens of CAS Angels in the County. Yeah, what the heck, I could do that. At that particular moment I was out of work and had time on my hands. I had some thinking to do, and maybe I could get a bit of thinking done while I helped. Sorting, packing, wrapping and delivering was going to keep my mind occupied. I wasn’t prepared for what really happened. Nobody said anything about the heavy lifting or how cold the Santa goodies’ storage area was or how many people we would deal with in a day— people who had children and only enough money for the basics and not enough for Christmas, corporate donors, private donors, luncheons, cheque presentations— more people than I’d seen in my lifetime. The real storybook Santa brought gifts to all kids, no matter what their family circumstances were, as far as I could remember. It was on one of those days, while thanking a couple for their donation to the CAS Angel Campaign that I realized I was actually thanking real, honest-to-goodness saints of the Santa Claus variety. Corporate Santas. Private Citizen Santas. Santas who had a lot to share. Santas who knew how important it was to share. I knew, at that moment, what becoming Santa looked like. Santa looked like me and Santa looked like you.
In a caring community, like Prince Edward County, the opportunities to become the Santa (the one you know you can be) are all around us. Please, please think about making a donation to the food bank in Picton or the Storehouse food bank in Wellington. Pick an Angel from the CAS tree and make Christmas happen for a County kid. Drop a buck or two or ten in the Salvation Army Kettle. Buy a Christmas tree from a firefighter— great folks who are supporting great causes. Shovel a neighbour’s driveway or bake them a bunch of cookies. Shop and dine locally (tip like you’re on the receiving end). Create a brand new holiday tradition with your friends, your partner or your family.
“Believing in Santa is as difficult as believing in yourself.” What the H E double candy canes! Imagine! You.can.be.SANTA!
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