Christmas comes but once a year (what holiday doesn’t?), and it’s always during this yuletide season I take a moment from my busy schedule of investigating tales of corruption and crime to challenge a disturbing and pernicious myth circulated concerning Santa Claus. In this generation of faithlessness, it has become incumbent upon me to state that there is definitely and without question a Santa Claus.
“How would you know?” You might be inclined to ask. I know because every Christmas while I was growing up my family received a personal visit from him.
Yes, yes, yes, I know many of you think you know the “real” Santa Claus. But our family alone had sole legitimate claim to this title.
Santa Claus is like the Highlander. There can only be one.
For the skeptical amongst you, let the record be taken. Every Christmas Eve, we’d be sitting in the living room when he’d arrived to the sound of feet stomping on the roof and weird noises only reindeer can make. Moments later, he’d appear at the front door to greet us with the sound of jingling bells that covered his bag of candy canes.
The thing is, despite being overwhelmed at meeting him, over the years we questioned him about his legitimacy. We were tempted to pluck at his beard, but my father assured me after I informed him of this plan that doing so automatically gets a kid put on the naughty list until they turn 18.
Instead, we asked him how he can eat cookies and milk at a million homes in one night and never gain weight.
A magically high metabolism rate, he told us. He actually has trouble gaining weight and doesn’t like to talk about it. It’s the only part of that Rudolph animated film that’s accurate, he said. They took liberties with the rest of the story in order to draw a larger box office.
His claim proved correct when I noticed several years later that he had lost considerable weight and his face seemed much thinner.
Meanwhile, my grandpa would always have to stay up on the roof during Santa’s visits in order to take care of the flying reindeer, an easily spooked species of animal that often kicked at the tiles while we ate candy canes below. One especially snowy year, Rudolph even knocked my grandpa off the roof, and he had the sore back to prove it.
As the Christmases came and went, I finally worked up the courage to ask Santa something that had been on my mind for years. Why didn’t his elves come in his sleigh and handle the reindeer for my grandpa? The answer was rather confusing at the time, but apparently the United Elves Toy Workshop Local hasn’t allowed elves to ride in Santa’s sleigh since 1921 due to some contractual dispute that never got resolved. Interestingly, Santa prefers the Pacific Northwest weather and has a condo in Arizona where he stays during the rest of the winter after Christmas, but he can’t move there permanently because the North Pole Labor Board has prohibited him from building a new workshop in any other part of the world out of fear that he might sleigh their jobs overseas.
But what really sold me was when I questioned him about his friendship with my grandpa. Just how did the two of them run into each other in the first place? He claimed they had met one day while they were shopping at Sears for watches. Curious, I looked down at his wrist and noticed he had the same watch as my grandpa. When my grandpa finally came back inside after Santa had departed, I eagerly pointed this out to him. He didn’t have to speak, just smile that smile adults do from time to time at kids who are wise beyond their years.
So yes, there is a Santa Claus. Only one.
TJ Martinell is a staff reporter with the Kirkland Reporter.
