December 7, 2006

By Santa Claus

The children came, 50 or so, to the Little Art Theatre (thank you, Jenny Cowperthwaite). They marched down the aisle decked with bows of holly, lit by Christmas lights, with Christmas carols and songs coming from a boombox set up halfway down. The beautiful red theatre seats were like several hundred happy, smiling elves beaming up at Santa, fat, fat, jolly old St. Nick seated on the stage, on his throne (thank you, ye Odd Fellows, for the magnificent, high-backed, black-leather-seated, old oak chair with the wonderful wide armrests).

They came in their mother’s arms.
They came in their father’s arms.
They came eagerly, their faces aglow.
They came hesitantly, timidly.
They came not at all — No! No! No-ohhh!

“Zenya! How are you? No, you don’t have to sit on Santa’s lap. No, it’s okay. What do you want for Christmas? Zenya? Zenya?” (Mommy, who is this strange red ’n’ white frizzy-haired, frizzy-faced creature ballooning out of that humongous chair? Mommy?) “I like your Spiderman shoes,” Boss Elf Adrienne cooed. “Would you like a Spiderman video game?” The boy nodded and then turned, heading for the stairs. “Merry Christmas, Zenya, thank you for coming to visit me,” Santa said to a quickly retreating 4-year-old.

“And how old are you two? 19?” Santa asked the beautiful brunette and her graceful, fair-as-is-the-rose-in-May blonde friend. “Go to Antioch?”

“No-ohh, no, we’re 13, “ Kelli, the rose-in-May said. “Eighth graders,” her lovely friend Alex said. “Only she’s 14, today!” Kelli said.

Kelli wanted a computer. “A Mac.” “Good,” Santa said. “Mrs. Claus prefers Macs.”

Alex wanted CDs.

“What kind? Hip hop? Metal? Rob Zombie? My elves like Rob Zombie.”

They danced, they admitted, learning moves from each other, from Justin Timberlake, who, Kelli said, “is as fine as a dime.” “Thank you, girls,” Santa said. “And Merry Christmas.”

“Ceron? How old are you?” He held up his right hand, his four fingers pressed tightly together. “Four? And what do you want?

“A Scooby Doo game.” Ahh.

Ceron looked up at Santa, his eyes full of mirth: “I like when Scooby sticks his butt up in the air and farts,” he said and we both laughed heartily, Santa being every bit as scatological as any healthy 4-year-old.

Will Gregor, 6, in his very red, red, Christmas red jacket, a thick, knit-cotton, navy scarf snug around his neck, brought a Legos Christmas catalog with him — “Legos make you smart, make you think!” we agreed as we leafed through the magazine, reading about the items he’d circled and a few he hadn’t. Star Wars creatures led this good boy’s list. “Santa likes the fence around your house,” Santa said and Will was thunderstruck: only the real Santa could know such a thing!

Priscilla Moore, Chamber member, without whom this visit would not have happened, reported overhearing a child tell another on Xenia Avenue, just outside the Little Art: “I just talked to the real Santa. The real Santa’s in there.”

Nicholas Wright, 8, was flushed with joy in his double-peaked red Christmas elf hat. Santa told him he’s talked to his teacher. “She tells me you’re a very good boy. And a very smart one, too.” Nicholas was starry-eyed, blissful, at this news. And then, after listing 10 things he wanted, being a bit apologetic at first — “My list’s pretty long....” — “Oh, go ahead,” Santa said, “tell me everything, we have time.” He came up with an idea “that all the kids might like — ugly dolls.”

Elf Abby, who rests between reindeer flights from the North Pole over at Antioch College with that other gifted and especially sensitive Santa’s helper, Elf Sofia, wrote this down: ugly dolls.

Boss Elf Adrienne took Nicholas’s picture just before he got off Santa’s lap. Elf Adrienne took pictures of every child with a digital camera, printing them on the spot, giving them to the parents as they left.

Jackie Mayer came up. Her home had been broken into just a few days’ earlier, a terribly upsetting and discombobulating thing. A violation, Santa said. But Jackie was being brave and as she sat on Santa’s lap, he promised her and her family a very special gift on Christmas Day — something to make up for this terrible thing that had happened to her.

Lili Peistrup, 6, delicate, articulate, beautiful, good, and smart, wanted a boombox (“Oh!” her mother JoAnn exclaimed and from the sound of it, Santa imagined Lili turning the volume all the way up). Lili wanted a doctor’s kit, too. She was very explicit and particular about that.

Austin, 5, would not come up. Elf Abby sat with him, offering him a candy cane, talking to him, listening to him, trying to assuage his considerable anxiety. Just imagine you’re 5: you weigh maybe 30, 35 pounds, and they ask you to go sit on the lap of this mammoth, gargantuan, 340-pound guy? This king-sized dude who looks like Puff the Magic Dragon, all bloated and about to explode? Who’s wearing this thick, red, red triple flannel Santa suit, an outfit like none you’ve ever seen before?

Christian, 20 months, came up with his mom, dad, and his baby brother Sam (in his father’s arms). But Christian had no intention of getting into anybody’s lap, least of all into the lap of this enormous creature dressed in the brightest bright red suit, his frizzy face a forest of flying white hair!

Aiden Hackett, Hollywood handsome, and as sweet as sweet potato pie, was exhilarated. His sunny buoyancy lifted Santa’s already exuberant spirits, melting Santa’s heart anew. Aiden wanted a race car track, two bionacals (bionicles) and a bionacal castle. His two moms, Margaret Hackett and Beth Lutz-Hackett, a remarkable pair, happy as clams when, with their gorgeous, cantankerous, energetic, strong-willed sons, they could not convince young Liam, 2, to come up. He’d seen another Santa that morning at the First Methodist Church’s Annual Christmas Breakfast. He may have still been distressed over not getting his gifts that morning, right then and there — after all, Santa had been right there, had he not?

Kaliyah Fulton, 8, was priceless. Lovely to look at, easy to chat with — can a child of 8 show deference? She said she wanted an iPod, adding, “And I want a pen for when I can write.” She came back an hour later for a second visit — asking Santa’s permission first, of course: being deferential? Courteous? Considerate of others? All of the above? Santa said, “Sure, come on up.” She let him lift her to his lap, then told him, Santa, her two siblings, 6 and 8, didn’t want to come up, but that she’d remembered one more thing she wanted: “A pretend shotgun.” She and Santa talked about how beautiful a shotgun could be and how much fun it was to shoot. Then Santa thanked her for being so good, so loving, so smart, and Rachel gave him a hug — which only a few children did all afternoon, making it an especial, nearly miraculous thing, filling Santa’s already overflowing heart with more joy than he thought he could bear.

Selene Fernandes, 7, came with her aunt Madina and Madina’s best friend, Mayha Graham, two members of our village’s famous belly dancer troupe. Selene sat silently for a long moment, facing the theatre, her spine straight, the girl totally self possessed. “And what do you want?” Santa asked. After the longest, most thoughtful pause, she fairly exploded with, “A scooter!” A razor scooter? “Yes! A razor scooter. And a Scooby Doo scooter, too. One for each foot.” She also decided on a helmet. “Purple!” she declared, absolutely certain of that fact.

Rachael Menutta, 5, wanted “tools.” A hammer? “Yes. And a snowboard.” Simon Herbert, 8, wanted a lot more play dough and a ton of silly putty. His brother Michael, 10, wanted a Spyro, while their baby brother, Aiden, 6, who came running up at the end of the afternoon, wanted a play station portable and a Neopet Pet-Pet Adventure.

They came from Cedarville, Enon, Fairborn, and Springfield. And they came from Yellow Springs, from the Antioch School, Mills Lawn and McKinney Middle School. Elf Abby got their names so Santa could call them by name, and then he asked them their age, where they went to school, their grade, and who their teacher was — and then told them, each and every one of them, how he, Santa, loved that teacher, and how that teacher had told him how good they were, how smart they were. Then, before he said goodbye and sent them on their way, he thanked them for coming to see him, for visiting him, telling them it made him very happy.

And the children loved it, the praise and the appreciation. They reveled in the praise, believing it, soaking it up, and graciously accepted the thank you as a gift. It was astounding, they were astounding, and Santa’s a better Santa because of it. So, thank you, Yellow Springs. Thank you, Priscilla, Karen, Adrienne, Jackie, Abby, Sofia, Jenny. You’ve made a fat, jolly old Christmas dude a very happy fellow.

Merry Christmas. Happy Chanukah. Happy Kwanzaa.

And may God bless you all.

Oh — Austen did finally come up, did finally sit in Santa’s lap — after 30–40 minutes with Santa’s elves, with Abby especially — and when Santa told him he was being a brave little boy, Austin agreed, proclaiming, “I know. And I’m not afraid of the dark either!” Which wowed us all. “And you know why?” he pressed. “No, why?” we wondered. “Because I sleep with a night light! A turtle night light,” he said, beaming, his pride palpable.

Well, good for you, Austin. And thank you, thank you very much.

* The writer, who lives at the North Pole, visited Yellow Springs during Holiday in the Village.