Letter to Santa

Dear Santa,

How have you been? I’m sorry it’s been such a long time (like maybe three or four decades) since I wrote you. I feel like we’ve lost touch. It’s my fault.

I bought into the “it’s your parents,” myth a long time ago. Both my parents are gone now, and yet I still get stuff in my stocking (which is hung by the chimney with care). I’m sorry I ever stopped believing in you. Please forgive me.

By turning our backs on you, we lose more than just childhood innocence; we also lose a part of ourselves – the part that wants to believe in the unseen, the magic of life. Thomas Nast, Francis P. Church, Clement Clark Moore (although some say Henry Livingston), Arthur Rankin and Jules Bass were men who still believed in you. So you see I am in good company.

I’m not even sure what name you prefer anymore. Do I still call you Santa Claus, or something more reverent like St. Nicholas, or St. Nick to be more familiar? Should I refer to you as Kris Kringle? It’s the same feeling I get when addressing former teachers or parents of my childhood friends – when is it permissible to just call you Kris? Every year you and I grow closer in age, because although you are ageless, I am not.

Do you still make a list? I know for awhile my name was inked on the “naughty” side of the ledger. Hopefully I’m on the “nice” side now – check it twice please. I’ve tried really hard to be a good man, but maybe I’m fooling myself. Santa, you see the real person behind our public portrait; you know when we’ve been bad or good.

I’ve seen you around town these past few weeks, particularly at the malls. The lines of people waiting to see you were too long, and I didn’t have that much time. A middle-aged man waiting by himself to see Santa would attract too much attention anyway.

I’m sure you aware of the push by some people with too much time on their hands. They are demanding that you lose some weight, throw away your pipe, and eat a more balanced diet (fewer cookies and more vegetables). Don’t let them get to you; be yourself. Nobody likes a skinny Santa.

I don’t even have a “wish list.” I can’t think of anything I need so you don’t have to bring me anything, but if you insist – surprise me. But, as I think about it I guess there is one thing I would really like. Please bring me a clock that keeps time. I don’t mean keeping the correct time, I want a clock that stores time, tucking it away where a special moment can be relived. With such a clock time would neither be wasted nor lost. It’s not as lofty a desire as shoelaces that stay tied – which I’m not sure even your talented elves could create. All I want is my fair share.

There are so many questions I have for you. Do you need snow to get the job done? If a little is good, is a lot better? What’s your favorite Christmas movie? Do you use a Star to guide you?

Write when you can, and please stop in and see me if you get a chance. On Christmas Eve I may step out for a few minutes with my kids to look at the Christmas lights. If I should be gone when you visit, help yourself to the cookies and milk. Happy Christmas, Santa wherever you are.