My one regret this season is to only have been able to put on the suit once… twice, if you count putting it on for my nephew, for this photo. A couple of years ago, a friend gave me the opportunity of a lifetime, buying a suit and asking me to play Santa for an “arrival” at her shop. Though Christmastime is my favorite time of the year by leaps and bounds, the thought of being Santa Claus someday had never crossed my mind.
Though it is hot and sweaty and uncomfortable, being St. Nick is an incredible privilege. And anyone worth a damn who puts on the uniform for children IS Santa Claus. That concept never crossed my mind in earnest until I saw my first customer’s eyes light up upon seeing me in red. Little kids, novices, babies – not the bored, prematurely jaded 8 year olds. It is an overwhelming, humbling power to possess for a couple of hours. I’ve provided a new mother with a nice picture to send home to her mother, and to a new father serving on a Navy ship. I’ve been many kids’ first Santa – can you imagine that? I could never. I wish I had one of those camera-glasses so people can see what I see, see kids running to sit on my lap and be enveloped in the magic that is Christmas. To see the shine in a kid’s eyes, a kid who WANTS to believe with all her might.
A pessimist could easily dismiss it all, because on paper it’s ridiculous. A velvet outfit and boots bought at a costume shop, and a bum who happens to be shaped the right way, and who can memorize the names of the reindeer. Have a booming “Ho, ho, ho,” but speak softly to the littler ones when they get close. There isn’t a whole lot to it.
Other than believing in the magic yourself, and letting Christmas happen to you. That’s when children can tell you’re just a fake, when you don’t believe.
