Mrs. Claus

Walking through one of the malls the other day I noticed that Santa was sitting by himself, bearded head in gloved hand. There was no one on his lap and no one in line waiting to do so. I found this troubling. Santa should not be sitting by himself. Why is no one talking to him?

I considered approaching the old fellow and asking him if he needed some company. I could have pulled up a chair next to his green throne – no need to sit on his lap, and I doubt very much he would have sat on mine.

We could have talked about anything he wanted. For starters I would have asked him what he wanted for Christmas, and then we could have moved on to a discussion of child-labor laws and their effect on child-like elves. Perhaps I would have some explaining to do about this year’s behavior, or maybe I could have told him about the summer I met his wife.

I was working at a nursing home as an orderly. I took advantage of the situation and engaged the residents in conversation whenever I could. One woman was especially pleasant to talk to.

Although her legs were too weak to support her, her mind was strong enough to carry a conversation. She was short and round and her eyes sparkled behind her round glasses that sat just above her round, glowing cheeks. And to complete the circle, her hair was drawn back in a bun that outlined her happy, round face.

She was known to everyone as Minnie – but I knew who she was. She was Mrs. Santa Claus, who else could she be? I asked her once why she thought I addressed her as Mrs. Santa.

“Because I’m so fat,” she said with the trademark belly-shaking laugh.

“No, that’s not it.” I said laughing with her. Although I guess it was partly true. “No, it’s because you are so happy.

“How else should I be?” she asked.

Clearly, there was no better alternative. In our talks I found that she had led a busy life. In addition to keeping house at the North Pole she enjoyed gardening, baking, sewing and mending.

After the summer ended I went back to college. I never saw her again, but I will never forget her either. Thirty years passed and I found myself back at the nursing home again, this time visiting my father, and then later, my mother.

Often, during these visits we would include another resident in our conversations. It was usually rewarding. Naturally, I met some wonderful people. But, after my folks passed on I quit going to the nursing home, maybe because I wasn’t strong enough to push past the pain, or maybe I was just being selfish and lazy. But that’s going to change.

This week I am going back there for a little conversation. There are many people waiting for a visitor to share some time with. We all have someone we know who would love to see us, and if not, there is someone we haven’t met yet in a hospital or a nursing home who would love a visitor.

Everyone needs someone to talk to, even Mrs. Santa Claus and her husband.