There was a period of years when I stopped believing in Santa Claus. Santa knows this, and from my discussions with him, I know he holds me blameless. It was actually my Dad's fault.
Many Christmases ago I wrote Santa a letter. I'd written faithfully every year, but never quite gotten what I'd hoped for from him on Christmas morning. So on this particular year I tried a different strategy -- threatening Santa Claus:
Dear Santa,
I really want a VCR for Christmas. In fact, if I don't get one, I'm going to stop believing in you.
Yours Truly,
Aaron
Not long after my Dad sat me down for a little chat. My letter lay open on the table. I was aghast -- it was supposed to have been sent to the North Pole! He then told me flat out: "There is no Santa Claus and you're not getting a VCR." He said there was no money for one, to which I pointed out that I was asking Santa, not my parents, for the VCR.
I cried angrily that he'd read Santa's letter and wondered how I could go on. There was no comfort in return, only an admonition not to spoil it for the rest of the kids.
Only years and years later was my faith in jolly old Saint Nick restored -- when President Faust spoke of him at the 1999 Christmas Devotional and noted the similarities between Santa Claus and Christ. Not long after I found means to speak to Santa himself, who frankly forgave me (I had, after all attempted to extort presents from him) and we both lamented the actions of my father. We mused on the presents I might have had if I'd but believed in those intervening years. He then deftly deflected my hints that I should then get all of those lost gifts at the following Christmas, noting: It's the season that comes only once a year.
Santa also noted that retribution against my father would be swift. From reports, Santa instructed my grandparents (on my mother's side) to make sure that he got a tin of pretzels for Christmas (and Dad hates pretzels).
6 comments:
I can see dad so doing that.
So that's why I got those stinking pretzels!
HO HO HO. Aaron, I can't believe you trashing your dad. He's been one of my best friends and supporters for years. I guess I'll have to take a present out of the bag that I had planned for you.
Santa
Hmmm... I wonder who might be leaving comments impersonating Santa Claus? Let's see... who might be tempted to do that given the subject matter of this post?
What I can't understand is how Santa went unaware of your father's actions for so long, when he allegedly has knowledge of all our deeds. This disclosure of a Santa-less world was hardly clandestine, so I'm sure Santa knew about it. What I'm saying is, your story has holes...big, gaping holes.
You are probably right -- Santa surely knew of it all along. But are you really expecting me to explain the mind of Santa Claus? Maybe he needs someone to lay an accusation against another before meeting out justice? Maybe there's an unwritten Santa code that requires him to respect a father's agency/disbelief in cutting off one his children, no matter how erroneous the reasoning?
In the end, though, the "big, gaping holes" actually lend to the authenticity of my account, since I can't pretend to know Santa's reasoning, methodology, or justification. I'll leave that to the spurious "anonymous" imposters.
Post a Comment