Forgetting Santa

Like most children I was raised to anticipate the arrival of Santa Claus every Christmas. Unlike most children I believed in Santa until I was 14 years old.

I grew up on a farm and while other children mailed their letters to Santa my dad had a better way of reaching Santa. Luke and I would write out our Christmas list and dad would light a fire in our wood stove. The entire family would gather around and dad would take the letters Luke and I wrote and toss them in the fire. He said the ashes would travel to the north pole and reassemble and Santa would receive our letters. If I had been smarter I would have known that ash couldn't ever reassemble into anything and even though this must have been dad's idea of the future or letter transportation email would soon become more popular and more efficient than his letter burning principles. I could have looked at the letter burning from another angle, "mom and I don't give a shit what you want so we are burning the letter. You are getting what we want you to have."

They must have made copies of our letters because we always got what we wanted and more; or maybe Santa really did get our letters. We would always visit Santa at Walmart, or Lowes, or whatever non-mall location he would visit in Frankfort. We were smart enough to know that the real Santa was too busy to visit and these were his helpers. My question is, if all the kids know that this isn't the real Santa and just one of his helpers why is he dressed like Santa? He isn't fooling anyone. I would have gladly told anyone claiming to be one of Santa's helpers what I wanted for Christmas.

Every year I had to out do myself and try to catch Santa in the house. I tried several methods for doing this. First I would sleep with the light on so I would wake up earlier. It worked, I usually would get up at 5am or earlier to see what Santa brought me. Once I awoke at 3am and was as loud as possible so mom and dad would wake up. Dad entered the living room and said, "Well, I guess Santa has been here because Matt it bent over smiling sideways looking at toys." Apparently my PJ pants were too long and I had walked on them pulling my pants down exposing my entire butt, I didn't even notice the breeze. The toys had my full attention. I would usually stay up from 3am or 5am playing with toys until I would finally crash at Granny's house about 2pm. Christmas was just too exciting to sleep in.

My best scheme to prove that Santa was real was to leave him something to eat and drink that my mom and dad didn't like. I knew that leaving cookies and milk didn't prove anything, mom and dad could eat them and just say Santa did. I was 8 years old and decided to leave Santa asparagus and warm milk, something that mom and dad wouldn't eat. When I woke up and found that the milk was half empty and the asparagus was gone I knew Santa must be real, mom and dad would never eat that nasty stuff. As it turns out, both mom and dad like asparagus, and I had left Santa something that only I didn't like. As logical as leaving a nasty treat for Santa was I neglected to think that even if mom and dad didn't like the treat they could have thrown it away and told me Santa ate it, or worse, if Santa didn't like it what if he left me no presents? I stuck with milk and cookies after that.

Luke had wanted a Groucho Marx ventriloquist doll really bad when he was 7 years old. Dad placed the order out of the "Things You Never Knew Existed" catalog in July. Luke waited and waited but the doll never showed up. Luke eventually forgot about it and I thought Dad should call the company and get his money back. Christmas morning at 430am me and Luke snuck into the living room to see what Santa had brought us. Sitting on top of a new 13" color TV was the Groucho Marx doll. Luke was so excited that he didn't even see the TV that was going to go in his room. I was so happy, I knew Santa had already made the doll for Luke and canceled the order to the magazine so we didn't have 2 of the dolls. Santa was so smart!

Each year I would call my cousin Sarah bright and early and we would share tales of what Santa had left us. I vowed that at age 11 I would catch Santa leaving presents. I snuck out of my room at 1230am thinking it was much later. I walked into the living room and saw no presents under the tree. I must have been bad. I looked at the clock and noticed it was barely Christmas and Santa must not have shown up yet. I went back into my room to wait, I awoke at 6am in the morning. I had missed him again. All of my friends had long since stopped believing in Santa but I knew he was real.

Brandon and Nathan told me their parents told them Santa wasn't real. I still believed. Even though Santa had the same handwriting as my dad I knew he was real. I opened up a toy craftsman tool set when I was 8 and looked at dad and said, "Wow! Santa shops at Sears too!" At age 12, I was riding in a car with my Aunt and she was telling me that she had done all of her Christmas shopping and that Santa Clause was going to be good to her kids this year. She put her arms up and quoted when she said Santa, and then told me that her kids still believed. I told myself her kids must have been bad and that is why she had to act like Santa, because he wasn't stopping at their house. Later the same day my Grandfather told me he had driven all over town looking for a Nintendo for me and Luke for Christmas and finally found one. I kept it to myself, but wanted to tell him that mom and dad didn't get me a Nintendo, it was Santa.

When I was 13 years old in the 8th grade my cousin Sarah and I had a heart to heart talk about Santa. All of our friends had moved on and accepted Santa wasn't real. Sarah and I decided that we no longer believed in the physical Santa that Coke created the image for, but we believed in a spirit. Kind of like the holy ghost, Santa was just a spirit. But, he still brought presents.

On Christmas morning of 1996, my freshman year of high school I slept in until 8am and woke up to find presents from Santa under the tree. I went to get my stocking and noticed that both the dog and cat stockings were empty. I looked at mom and she said, "Oops, I forgot to fill the animals stockings this year." This was it, I finally had to accept that Santa wasn't real. Mom and dad still think I believe, to this day I still get presents addressed from Santa. Or, maybe Santa is real and the devil has performed his greatest trick in convincing me that he doesn't.

Merry Christmas,
Matt