I wore the Red Suit (16 page)

Near the end of my Santa day, comes Kenny. Now Kenny did not have crutches or braces. His muscles seemed fully functioning, and his posture as straight as a long piece of pine board. However, his eyes did not seem quite right when he looked at me. It did not appear like the eyes of a seven-year-old, exploring, challenging, even mischievous. I picked him up and put him on my knee. “Well Kenny, what can Santa bring you for Christmas this year?” He asked for what all the other little boys would have wished for; games, baseball glove, bike, etc. He seemed normal in most respects, but I had this nagging feeling inside that he was a little off center. I went on a little further; not as a nosy person, but as a parent and caring man. “Kenny, you seem a little unhappy, is everything alright?” ”I am sad Santa” he says. “Bob will not stop hitting me. He hurts me!” Kids fighting, I can remember when I was young. My brothers and neighborhood kids used to fight a lot. “Well, Kenny, you and Bobby have to learn to get along. Is he your brother or another kid?” “No! Bob is my friend Jason’s dad.” My heart sank to the bottom of my fur-lined boots. “Bob is someone’s father, an adult?” “Yes, it is Jason’s father, and he hits me and Jason all the time.” Looking into the eyes that are now starting to tear, “did you tell your mommy and daddy about this?” I never got the answer as he jumps down from my knee and runs to his mother who is talking to another woman. Kenny takes her hand while she continues to talk. As she gestures, I can see no wedding ring. Either she is unmarried, divorced or does not wear a ring. A crumpled piece of paper at my feet catches my eye. As I pick it up and smooth the wrinkles, I realize that Kenny had a piece of paper in his hands while talking to me. He was twisting and tearing at the edges of it. It said simply in a child’s handwriting; “Dear Santa, could you please bring me a new blue bike.” It was signed Kenny, and he also put his address and phone number. “Lord watch over Kenny, I say aloud.” When I looked back to where they were, Kenny and his mother were gone. So was the other woman. For two days, I fought with myself on what to do? Was Kenny telling the truth or just looking for attention and sympathy from Santa? This is dangerous ground that I have found myself. Do I not get involved per the Mall’s Santa guidelines? If something happened to Kenny or his friend Jason, could I live with it? Do I tell someone in authority, police, or social services? What if he was lying, the fallout against me could be great.

I thought about Ely and Peter and their individual strengths that carried them forward. I thought of St. Nicholas and all he stood for, and his crusade for the children. I decided it was best to come forward. I notified the Child Welfare Organization and told them of my talk with Kenny. I also said that it just may be a child looking for attention, as I observed the mother paid no attention to him while we talked. She was more intent on her discussion with another adult. Alternatively, what he told me might be true. My gut was definitely uneasy after my encounter with the young man who came to see Santa. The CWO said they would discreetly look into it and would let me know in a month. “A month! It takes a month to do this? In a day, a child could be hurt again, if there is validity in what he told me.” “I am sorry sir” the councilor told me, “we cannot go rushing in like the marines. This is a delicate situation, and we have to respect everyone’s rights.” “It all boiled down that I have to live with it for now,” I return. I am not equipped or trained in child abuse laws to deal with it myself. I plan to keep praying. “Kenny wherever you are, know that God will protect you.”

Wish List

           
Remember when you were young, and you tried writing that Christmas letter to Santa Claus? How you tried so hard to print so Santa could read it. Crafting the list to always asking for just the right amount of toys, but not too much to be greedy.

         
The most original and uniqueness that separate children are in the ways they prepare or submit their Christmas Wish lists to Santa. Some children will take hours if they have the time, constructing an eye-catching list of wishes. After all, there are millions of kids out there trying to get Santa's attention. He is a very busy fellow and has to look at all those wish lists before Christmas.

 
Kids will grab anything to write a Christmas list if they know they are going to see Santa at a mall or party. I have seen lists added to homework pages, drug store prescriptions, shopping lists, recipe cards, even written on clothes. There are writings on paper towels, cutouts from catalogs, and sometimes-regular paper. One child handed me a page ripped out of a Dickens novel with GI Joe’s pictures pasted to it. The word "truck" was written in heavy red crayon on the bottom of the page. I sure hope their parents have already read the book. I have seen wish lists written with anything that will make a mark. Pens, pencils, magic markers, watercolor paints, and every color that Crayola could manufacture. Mothers' lipstick used by a child is not a pretty site. I was even handed a blank piece of paper and was told by the smiling boy that he used invisible ink so only Santa could read it. With his magic, Santa could easily read his secret wish list.

One young lady was all excited as she handed me her Christmas toy list on the back of a green laundry ticket. I believe she was about ten years old. I looked at the ticket and said, "You want five shirts on hangers with no starch?" Ever notice sometimes you can catch a child with something funny that puts them in a laughing mood, and they cannot stop. Well, I think I came upon one of those times. She giggled and laughed so hard she brought tears to her eyes and mine. It took a full three minutes before she could actually talk to me. The best ones are hastily scribbled on whatever they can find while standing in the waiting line. One little boy wrote it on the back of his hand while waiting. Another on his baby sister's extra bib. One enterprising lad used the back of a list from another kid in line. A sort of two for one list.

A little boy about five years old gave me the standard Christmas wish list with several items on it. Then he gave me a second list with ten different items. I noticed that the second list had six items crossed out. I looked at the child with a puzzled expression. "That's my list from last year," he says. “These,” he points to the ones crossed out “are what I got. These others not crossed out are what you forgot to bring.”

“Santa, I want a bottle of ketchup for Christmas with my regular toys.” “You mean the same ketchup you put on a hamburger,” I ask. “Yeah” she says. Rubbing my chin through my beard, I ask her, “why do you want ketchup for Christmas?” “To put on my hamburger” she returns and walks away having made her request. Moreover, the boy with the missing tooth and the running nose that wanted the roll of toilet paper. I could not quite ask him why.

I find that besides sending their lists to the North Pole, either by the mail carrier or elf delivery. I am told that some are left in their stockings by the fireplace, or pinned to the wall. Others are left lying next to the plate of cookies and milk, even tied to the Christmas tree. One kid told me that he tied his list to his dog's collar. The dog sleeps in the family room next to the tree. It was assumed Santa would see it on the dog as he came down the chimney. Not to worry says the boy; I have shown your picture to the dog and told him not to bite you.

 
Some wish lists come as a preprinted form, all typed out. There was just a line where a child would fill in his name. I found out later that this enterprising young man would have a copy handy for any Santa he happened to see. He was prepared if he ran into Santa, whether at the mall, school, or standing on a street corner. The children around the neighborhood where I live believe so much that I am Santa Claus, that they put their Christmas wish lists in my mailbox.

One smiling young lady hands me a piece a paper she had been nervously chewing on. I took the dripping spit covered folded paper and opened it. You guessed it, a Christmas wish list. Some of the words were blurred, but I was still able to read most of it.