On being Santa

In which a fundamentalist Christian answers her town's letters to Santa

Not long after I moved to my little Connecticut River Valley town, I joined the library board, and during my first Christmas season here, I volunteered to answer the letters town children wrote to Santa and left at our library.

I don’t remember my motivation, other than I thought it would be cool to help some children extend their childhood a little bit. Growing up, my relationship to Christmas as a fundamentalist Christian was tattered. We attached absolutely no religiosity to the holiday — no manger scenes, no Baby Jesus — and I suppose if we’d been hardcore, we wouldn’t have had a tree, either. But we were of the lukewarm type when it came to Christmas, and so we had Santa and Rudolph and mountains of fudge for a wildly secular holiday.

Most certainly NOT a part of a fundamentalist Christmas

My older brother told me there was no Santa when I was 5. He was 8, and proud of his new-found knowledge. At the same time, he also broke the news that there is no Easter Bunny, either. Later, I appreciated that he let me hang onto the Tooth Fairy a while longer.

If I can counter an older brother popping a balloon for some kid, I’ll do it. I’ve answered Santa letters every year since, to the point that I recognize a couple of the repeat-families and marvel at how the handwriting has improved as the children get older.

No one can train you how to answer letters to Santa. It’s pure instinct. But, in general;

1. Don’t agree to bring a specific gift to a child, just in case a parent isn’t going to buy said gift. Let the child know that you’ve shared the list with the elves, who are hard at work at creating something wonderful.

2. Nevertheless, repeat the name of the most important gift listed in the child’s letter, to give the parent a head’s up as to their child’s priorities (assuming the child has made his/her/their wishes known already).

3. If a child admits that s/he has been naughty, let the child know that that’s allowed, and that as long as the effort is there, it’s cool.

4. Do not address any tattling a child attempts to do in a Santa letter. That is impertinent.

5. If a child admits to having a rough year (this year, fifth grade seems to be uniquely challenging), make up a back story where Santa had a rough fifth grade, too, but that things got better when he made some wonderful friends. Hold out hope that next year will be better because who knows? It just might.

6. If a child asks — as one did this year — what are your favorite Christmas movies, as Santa, don’t you dare say “Die Hard.” That is not a Christmas movie and I’m willing to fight you on this. Say “It’s a Wonderful Life,” “Miracle on 34th Street,” and anything not currently showing on the Lifetime channel, because the elves insist on watching Lifetime and only Lifetime during the holidays and you’re sick of it. Double ditto for Hallmark.

7. There’s probably something I’m forgetting here, but just feel free to fill in the blanks. Honestly, once you answer one or two of these letters, something weird happens. You become Santa, all-loving and all-knowing and the answers just kind of come to you.

There are always a few letters that stand out to me. One family with two boys and a dog always writes a letter for the dog, which I answer with a lot of woofs/barks/yips spelled out, and I include the human translation, as well. Santa, of course, speaks Dog. And Cat. And Reindeer, Mouse, and Giraffe. He can place an order at a restaurant in Horse, but he’s working on that.

Within this same family is a 12-year old boy, and as I read this year’s letter (asking for a load of electronic things (including an Oculus and an electric guitar), a big part of me felt for the kid. I wanted to tell him not to mention that he writes letters to Santa, as seventh-graders can be assholes. But then, in the P.S., he wrote, “I’ll never stop believing in you.” Of course, the only reply is, “I’ll never stop believing in you, either.” I hope he gets everything he wants.

Merry Christmas.