Monday, December 17, 2007

Santa? Really?

So I recently read the history of Christmas. Not to regale you with the tales of pagan pagentry and persecution (you can read that for yourself at http://www.simpletoremember.com/vitals/Christmas_TheRealStory.htm), I've decided to focus on the part about Santa.

"I told Skipper (yes, I'm going for a theme here) that Santa wasn't real, and when we went to the mall she saw one, and now she thinks I lied to her!" I advised Barbie to tell her 4 year old that the man was playing pretend, but it was too little too late. She never led her kids to believe in Santa, the Easter bunny, etc, for just that reason and usually kids get pissed at about age 8 or 9 when they found out that he wasn't real and that they've been lied to, so this is all very funny to me that the story is reversed. Reminds me of my only real experience with this myth:

When I was 5, I loved my principal, Mr Hanna. He was a tall, lively man who was great with kids in a time when it was possible to be so without being accused. He called my friend Brandy and I "Whiskey and Happy." He later presided over my brother's elementary school, across the street from my house, and I was happy to know he still remembered me.

One December day, during indoor recess, "Santa" came to visit us. "wow! Santa! Ooh, look at his bag!" all the children clamored around him and expressed their delight.

"That's not Santa! That's Mr H! Mr Hanna, I didn't know you wore glasses!" I was such an effin rebel.

From the back of the crowd, my voice seemed to startle Mr H for a literal nanosecond. He never broke character. Instead, he picked me up, held me close, and said, "shh, its pretend. Its a game!" I smiled as he put me back into the crowd of screaming kids. We shared an inside joke now.

Somewhere in my house I have a picture from that day. Framed in an ornament. "Santa" took pictures with all the kids. In theirs, they were taking pictures with an icon. A symbol. To me, Mr H may not have been so much but he was way more important to me than some figment. He symbolized more than that "knows when you're sleeping" rah rah. He was the man that called my mom when I was sick and asleep on a gym mat in the office. And I have something to remember him by.

Isn't that more important than an image? Why do people hide behind this guy who does good, when they could be the giver of good without costumes or the idea of some fat dude?


Did you believe in Santa? When did you stop? How did it make you feel knowing it was a lie?
Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile

4 comments:

Adei von K said...

i believe there ws a man named st. nicholas, i don't remember when i got the picture abt santa. i think i was young, saw my dad dressed up... wsn't disapointed or anything cause when i realized we didn't have a chimmney i was already over it.

La said...

I dunno if I ever believed in santa... at least... I don't remember beliving in him or a moment where I realized he wasn't real.

All-Mi-T [Thought Crime] Rawdawgbuffalo said...

nope, my folks made sure i knew wh deserved the credit, but tot fairy had me going

the joy said...

Stace- there was. They mentioned him in that link I put up: how his bones were stolen and worshiped by a cult.

La- I can't imagine you believing in him. If you did, I see you mailing him death threats.

Torrance- your "hypocrite" post inspired this one in a way. Those links were deep. My mom was the same way. I knew everything came from her.