Being Santa Claus : What I Learned About the True Meaning of Christmas (9781101600528) (18 page)

About four months later, I ran into the owner of the taxi company at a local coffee shop. As we exchanged pleasantries and caught up, he told me that, right after Christmas, Donna called asking for the driver who looked like Santa Claus.

“What did you tell her?” I asked, curious to hear his answer.

“The truth,” he said. “I told her that the last time I saw him was on Christmas Eve, and then he was gone. We haven’t seen him since. It’s really funny, but you leaving that way when you did, I guess it made her believe even more that you were the real Santa.”

We laughed at how my abrupt departure on Christmas Eve just added to my Santa mystique, and I smiled as I imagined the joy of little Ashley and her mother Donna on that Christmas morning. That night, I
was
the real Santa.

I KNOW I CAN’T BE A REAL-LIFE PAPÁ NOEL TO
everyone out there, as much as I wish I could. But I like to think that we all have a little bit of Santa soul
in us. As my family and I learned that Christmas, you don’t have to wear a red velvet suit or carry a sack of toys to be Santa Claus to someone in need. If you think about it, there are hundreds of little ways and chances for us to be that shining light of hope for one another, especially during tough times. We can give money, sure, but we can also give our time, love, attention, creativity, or even just a shoulder of support. If we all looked for and acted on these opportunities, even on days that aren’t Christmas, well…imagine the kind of world that would be.

S
ANTA CLAUS CAN DELIVER A LOT MORE THAN
just toys and gifts. You just need to know what you really want most in your heart and ask for it.

When I was a Santa-in-residence at a mall in New Hampshire, I enjoyed getting to know most of the shop owners, managers, and employees. They were a very warm and friendly bunch, and during slow periods of the day, many of them would wander over to the Santa set to hang out and chat.

One of our frequent visitors was Dennis, the assistant manager of a jewelry store on the second floor of the mall. From my big chair, I could look up and see the many sparkles of the beautiful pieces of jewelry placed in the store’s window, and I would often wave at Dennis when he stepped outside into the mall atrium.

I suspected that Dennis came down to the set not so
much to visit Santa as to hang around the many attractive young ladies who worked at the North Pole Village. I’d watch Dennis flirt with some of my helpers, and I figured that a young, handsome man in his mid-twenties like Dennis had no trouble finding dates.

But apparently Dennis didn’t have the kind of dating success that I had imagined. I discovered this during a Tuesday late morning lull. Dennis had come down to flirt some more with Santa’s helpers, and I noticed that the young ladies did their best not to flirt back. Instead, they went about their business of cleaning the set and checking supplies. I suspected that most of these attractive helpers already had boyfriends of their own, but I can’t say for sure. All I knew was that Dennis seemed pretty dejected standing there alone, despite trying to look suave and debonair in front of the giant glittered candy canes and snowmen. And so I sauntered over to him to say hello.

“Santa,” he said (everyone called me Santa), letting out a bit of a frustrated sigh, “do you know what I want for Christmas—what I really want more than anything else?”

“What’s that?” I asked, guessing that I already knew the answer.

“I want to find a nice girl that I can settle down with.”

Yep, I was right. I gave Dennis a playful smile. “I think you have me confused with Cupid.”

Dennis laughed and patted me on the shoulder. “Hey, I had to at least try to ask Santa. You never know, right?” he said. As he rode the escalator back up to the jewelry
store, my heart broke a little for this poor fellow who only wanted to find love for Christmas. But it turned out that serendipity would be on Santa’s side that week.

Two days later, a mother and her college-age daughter each sat on one of my knees to get a photo with Santa. After we took the picture, I asked them, “So, would you ladies like to tell me what you want for Christmas?”

The daughter immediately said with a bright look on her face, “Well, I love jewelry!”

“What’s not to love?” I kidded her, and I turned to her mother. “And how about you?”

“Santa,” the mother said with a tone of seriousness and loving concern in her voice, “the only thing I want for my daughter is to meet a nice gentleman and be happy.”

The daughter rolled her eyes. “Mom! Really!”

Her mother just smiled. “Santa asked me what I wanted for Christmas, and that’s my Christmas wish.”

Hmmm…

“Well,” I said, feeling slightly mischievous, “if you were to go up to that jewelry store over there on the second floor and ask for Dennis—and tell him that Santa sent you—well, let’s just see what happens…”

The two ladies looked a little surprised but also intrigued, and I thought I saw them heading up in the direction of the second floor when they left. But the customer line had suddenly gotten longer, and I needed to concentrate on the children who were waiting their turn to see Santa Claus. Within a few minutes, my
mind had moved on to completely different things and I forgot all about the Christmas Cupid wish.

A couple of years later, I returned to that mall in my everyday clothes to say hello to all the wonderful merchants and good friends I’d made there. I wandered in and out of stores, getting handshakes and hugs and catching up. But when I entered the jewelry store, I couldn’t find Dennis anywhere. I was disappointed, as he was one of the people I’d most hoped to see.

So I asked a couple of the other shopkeepers what happened to him. I quickly learned that Dennis had been promoted and started managing a store in a different part of the state right after he got married.

“He got
married
?” I asked, surprised. “The last I knew, Dennis was still looking for a girlfriend!”

“Oh, didn’t you hear? Dennis loved to tell the story of how Santa Claus introduced him to his wife.”

“Really?” My ears perked up.

“Yeah. He told everyone about that day you sent a girl and her mother up to the store. Dennis and the girl hit it off immediately and started dating. Within six months, they were married, and now they’ve got a one-year-old daughter and another on the way.”

“Well, how about that,” I said, grinning from ear to ear.

So, while I can’t promise anything for sure, you might as well go ahead and make that one true wish that’s in your heart. In the immortal words of Dennis, “You never know, right?”

A
NOTHER WAY I SOMETIMES MADE ENDS
meet in my non-Santa months was by filling in as a substitute teacher in our local school district. It gave me a chance to work with children all year long and, amusingly enough, provided me with a fun opportunity to remind them that Santa is always watching.

Imagine what might go through a student’s mind when his or her substitute teacher for the day looks a lot like Santa Claus! Naturally, the reactions varied from school to school, and different age groups jumped to their conclusions in different ways. The youngest ones nearly always questioned my identity as soon as I walked in. “Are you Santa Claus?” they would always ask immediately.

“My name is Mr. Lizard,” I’d answer truthfully, with a little knowing smile.

“That’s a silly name!” one of the children would almost always shout out. “I think you’re really Santa Claus.”

“Well,” I would say in a matter-of-fact tone, “if I said I was Santa Claus, how would you behave?”

They would then all reply that they’d try to be good.

“But wouldn’t Santa Claus want to know how you behave when he
isn’t
there?”

“Yeah,” they would answer.

“So do you think Santa would tell you ahead of time that he was coming to your classroom?” I’d ask. “I bet he wouldn’t! That way he could see how you behave when you don’t think he’s around. Does that sound about right to you?”

The kids would uniformly bob their heads in agreement.

I would then try to look thoughtful. “Hmmm…I doubt Santa would use his real name, though. He’d probably make one up. He’d likely come up with something fun, like an animal or something…”

“A lizard is an animal!” one of the smart kids would usually exclaim. “And you’re Mr.
LIZARD
!”

“Yes, I am. But I didn’t say I was Santa Claus,” and I would smile and wink at the class. The kids would then figure out the “truth” for themselves, and usually behave extra well for Mr. Lizard.

By the time most kids reached seventh grade, few if any believed I was really Santa Claus. But one class of older kids surprised me in a big way….

One day I got a call asking me to sub for a class of what they called “troubled” ninth graders. These students had difficulty focusing their attention, so teachers often struggled to keep them engaged. In fact, only the regular teacher could consistently keep these fifteen-year-olds under control, and most substitute teachers would be scheduled for just half-day shifts with these kids before being relieved by a fresh sub who hadn’t yet been terrorized that day by these unruly kids.

I drove to the school to take the morning shift, and the headmaster walked me to the classroom before the students got there. He seemed to be juggling a thousand things at once and clearly wanted to set me up as quickly as possible so he could get on with the rest of the chaos of his morning.

“Here’s the seating chart and class assignments for the day,” he said, handing me a binder. “The kids will be here soon, and I’ll check up on you occasionally. If you have a problem, we’ll get somebody in here to relieve you later. But no matter what, you can’t leave until I’ve brought in a replacement, got it?”

“Sure do,” I said.

“Good luck,” he said somewhat ominously. And off he went.

Just how difficult are these kids?
I wondered.

The assembly bell rang, and a minute later, the doors to the classroom banged open and the students spilled in. Pandemonium reigned for a few minutes as some students found their seats while others congregated in groups talking to each other, sitting on top of desks, and playing handheld video games. I imagine the kids immediately sized me up as a substitute teacher and figured this would be an easy day to just skate by without having to do any work.

When the bell rang signaling it was time for class to start, I told everyone to sit in their assigned seats so I could take attendance. “Okay, before I call your names, it’s only appropriate that I introduce myself.” So I got up and wrote
MR. LIZARD
on the board.

“How do you pronounce that?” I heard one kid ask.

“Lizard,” I said. “Just like the animal.”

“You look like Santa Claus, dude!” another kid interrupted, and I heard a bunch of snickers.

“Well, for all you know, I could be,” I said with my same knowing little smile.

“But you just wrote ‘Mr. Lizard’ up on the board!” one of the girls challenged me.