semi-daily journal of my thoughts and feelings(hopefully) On my life living in the Rocky Mountains...
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| rkymtnmusings semi-daily journal of my thoughts and feelings(hopefully) On my life living in the Rocky Mountains... .
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12/03/2005  ...A fellow blogger told me I was a wise man for believing in Santa Clause. Santa to me now is really the embodiment of the Christmas Spirit...or the Spirit of this time of year, inclusive of all people no matter what thier beliefs, a time (excuse, if you will) to practice are humanity, good will, kindness to our fellow man. There was I time when Christmas did nothing but depress me. But, then, everything depressed me to one degree or another... At some point in my life (a story for another time) my "partying" became a devoted thing. And when I would hit a rough patch in life, that's what I relied on to get me through-kill the pain...and then I "prepared" myself for any eventuality that might come my way, got ahead of the curve, so to speak, by drinking before something bad would happen. I found that I didn't have to count on the "hair of the dog", or worry about hangovers if I didn't stop drinking. Somehow this insightful thinking lost all ability to cure my pain when, in quick succession, I lost my grandmother, mother, several well-paying jobs, and found myself caught between a merry-go-round of drinking binges and A.A. meetings. After one particularly bad session with the bottle ( I spent 3 days drinking and "touring" the places I grew up in CA, El Porto-now part of Manhattan Beach-El Segundo..my grandmothers house on the beach where we lived for many years, my old grade school-you get the drift-) and on my way back to Thousand Oaks, I had this black serendipity, that all I had to do is drive over the center divider on the 101 Freeway and in short order the pain would be over...and when I didn't even have the courage to do that, I surrendered. I found an early morning A.A. meeting (7a.m.) where I really liked the people and what they had to say. It was the only place thoughout the day I felt safe. And so I was there early seven days a week. Now, as in most A.A. meetings, these folks talked a lot and freely about God. Being a "recovering" Catholic as well, this made me a bit nervous, but as I said, I had surrendered, realised my own best thinking had got me here, so I took their advice, shut up (most of the time..well, some of the time) and listened...and what they said seemed to slowly sink in. Now, through all this I had another small problem..eating-or, more precisely, obtaining food. I had no job prospects after burning quite a few bridges, and things were looking dismal. A new, opulent mall had just been built in town-the Oaks Mall-and someone had mentioned to me that they had seen an ad in the paper for Santas for the season. I was pretty bloated and red-faced from the effects of alcohol...broke..desperate...I sure didn't have much to lose, so I applied-and got a job ! Now I wasn't sure if it was the meetings, putting on that suit and taking on a "new" identity or what, but my attitude was changing, my outlook on life was brightening a little bit each day...it scared me-to the point that I was afraid to change anything-skip a meeting or show up late for work..God forbid take a drink, for fear I would lose any bit of serenity that I was having. Another subtle change was that the things I was hearing and learning at meetings, I was taking with me to work. I learned very early on that it would not be wise to promise something that you could not deliver... About a week into this "gig" as I call it, one evening in the middle of the week when it had been somewhat slow, not too many kids coming to see Santa, a woman brought her her son of about seven or eight up to see me. I could tell by thier neat but threadbare and worn clothing that, much like me, they weren't doing well.I was becoming a great observer of people, going to meetings in the morning where people had turned thier lives around, driving nice cars, dressing well, and going to a mall, and watching "normal" folks coming and going and spending money like there was no tomorrow (tomorrow terrified me). And so it wasn't hard to tell that, like me, this woman and her son were living hand-to-mouth. the young man walk up the steps and climbed on my lap with his mom close by looking on, and said to me (I will never ever forget this) "Santa, this is your last chance. For years I have been asking you for things, and I never got one thing that I asked for..." I was, of course taken aback-but how I could relate ! And then, inexplicibly, things that I had heard and been told at meetings began to, uncontrollably, I might add, come out of my mouth.We must have talked for more than a half hour (why were there no other kids coming up?), his mom looking on and waiting patiently. he gave me his list, and we talked. I told him that I couldn't promise him that everything that he wished for would be under the tree (if he would even have one) when he woke up Christmas morning, but if he tried to be the best person he could be, tried really hard and was patient, good things would come to him...and I would try my best, too, to make his wishes come true... Now, these could have been brutal words for an eight-year-old kid at Christmas, brutal but honest...but, somehow, with the big Christmas tree behind me and all the (fake) presents under it, the reds and greens, the christmas lights flashing, somehow, the three of us were caught up in it all. When we were done talking he gave me a big hug and got off my lap and rejoined his mom. He had tears in his eyes, mom had tears in her eyes, and so did Santa. As they left, the Lady (and she was, truely, a lady in every sense) tried to press a five dollar bill (which I was sure she couldn't afford) into my hand. I said no, but asked her to please give me a phone number or something so that I could keep in touch. She said she would come by later with it and left. I lingered a bit longer than I needed to that night, hoping they would come back by, but, sadly, they didn't. The next day, when I started my shift ( since that night, I have never called what I do "work") one of the Santa's helpers brought me an envelope and told me that a woman had left it for me. inside was a partial deposit slip with a womans address on it. I could only assume (and hope) if was from the Lady from the previous night. I didn't know what I was going to do with this information, but I was determined, somehow to put it to good use. A few days later, as I was taking care of an unusually long line of kids coming to visit Santa, I noticed a well-dressed woman watching me for a long time. After the line cleared out somewhat she came up to the podium and introduced herself. She said she was a psychologist that worked with a group in nearby Westlake Village. Every year the professionals in the group got together for Christmas dinner and a gift exchange, and she wanted to know if I would like to come and distribute presents, and how much I would charge. I thought about it for a moment, and, having more and more finding myself in the Spirit of the season, said "sure" and that she could surprise me when it came to payment (which turned out to be $75.00 ! a lot of money for me at that time...) The party was held at her condo, in a very nice, upper-class area of town. The condo was decorated very festively for the season, I arrived, as planned, just after dinner. I was able to get into the moment, distributed presents, and was asked to give a toast, I with my seven-up and they with thier champagne. I offered up a toast to the season and the spirit of giving (the Program now influencing most of what came out of my mouth at any given time..) and then stayed for awhile mingling (there are no class barriers for Santa !) The woman that was hosting the party came up to me as I was leaving with a Christmas card with payment inclosed, thanked me profusely, and proceeded to explain that this professional group worked with poor folks and indigents on a sliding scale, and during this time of year they made up boxes of food and small gifts for the neediest of thier clients and distributed them. She wanted to know what I would charge to come and participate in the distribution. I was touched, and told her I would love to do it at no charge. I realized that, having carried The Lady's address in my Santa jacket pocket, this just might be the opportunity (do you believe in serendipity? I do...) I had been waiting for...I asked the woman if she would consider helping out a family that I knew was in need, and she said she would, and so I passed the address on to her. A few days later, the good doctor came by the mall with what at that time was suprising news (since then, and to this day, I truly believe this is how the world is supposed to run) She informed me that The Lady and her son were actually clients of thiers, and had already been included on thier list of families to help. It seems her then-husband had abused her repeatedly and had been thrown in prison for that ongoing abuse. She asked if there was anything else she could do, and if there was, to let her know. The next day on my lunch break I called the psychologist's office and gave her secretary, as a suggestion of possible gifts they might include for the young man, the list that he had given me and I had committed to memory (and had etched on my heart). The rest of the season was very busy for me, going to meetings, repairing bridges I had burnt, and working. Christmas Eve came quickly. I showed up early at the doctors' professional building to get the lay of the land and make suggestions that might help. They had made "appointments" for each of the families, so they wouldn't be rushed and could spend time with Santa. It was touching and fun. It was more than once that evening a tear of gratitude was shed and a heart was touched. The Lady and her son were scheduled last, at 8:30, so that we could finish up reasonably early and have time to spend with our familes. They, showed up right on time, and I was nervous, not knowing which, if any, of the gifts I had suggested they might have got for the boy. First, they brought out the boxes of food and we went through them, marveling at the fresh fruit, crackers, boxes of stuffing, a turkey, bread all the things needed for a big Christmas dinner, and then some. There was also some gifts for The Lady, bath products to pamper herself, a necklace and earrings, pajamas and slippers, things she could use and might have wanted, but were probably at the bottom of the list of things she would get herself. About that time the good Doctor called me into her office adjacent the waiting room where we were doing the gift-giving. My heart dropped when she closed the door and I saw she had tears in her eyes. I was thinking the worst when she opened the closet and pulled out a Santa bag brimming with gifts and said "Here, this is for the boy" I was was speechless in my embarrassment ("oh, ye of little faith..") and could only give her a big bear-Santa hug. I took the bag out to the other room and, one by one, gave him his gifts. As we watched him open them with increased amazement, well, there wasn't a dry eye in the house, as they say. That night a very deserving young man recieved everything that he had wished for...as did, I truly believe, a roomfull of other giving, caring people. And so, eighteen years later, I get to enjoy the gift I was given so long ago...to have the magic renewed when a little girl from Chicago crawls up on my lap, not to ask for presents, but to just spend a little time with Santa, a little boy with special needs that is ten and I have had the pleasure of being included on the families' Christmas cards since he was a toddler, and all he wants is something special for his mom and dad. I have gained a lot of insight over the years...to the point that I think I have made a few parents "believers" again, or at least planted the seed (" Hmmm, if we are from Florida and only been here a day, how could a Santa in Colorado know that our daughter doesn't like to take naps and bickers with her older brother who doesn't like to go to bed on time and wakes up grouchy and has to be told three or four times to take out the trash,and my wife hasn't been out of my sight a single moment to whisper in his ear..?) Yes, I believe in Santa...I believe we all have a little bit of Santa in us. It needs to be nurtured, and, as I tell my kids (all kids are my kids when I dress in red) It's not just in December that you nurture it-you can help it grow on a hot day in July and the lady at the checkout stand is having a bad day, and maybe, just maybe, a kind word can turn her day around. And conversely, if not nurtured, it will wither...and , for me it all comes down to this...let me be a channel..let me be a conduit for all the love that that is out there and only needs to be plugged into and shared and spread all around...and when this is done, it surely comes full circle, binds and warms us all. This is my wish.a wish for you to get to taste, to feel this, to find your own way to "pay it forward" as it were... The Prayer of Saint Francis "O Lord, make me an instrument of Thy Peace!Where there is hatred, let me sow love;Where there is injury, pardon;Where there is discord, harmony;Where there is doubt, faith; Where there is despair, hope; Where there is darkness, light, and Where there is sorrow, joy. Oh Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love; for it is in giving that we receive; It is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life." http://www.dlshq.org/saints/francis.htm posted by David | 12/03/2005 06:24:00 AM
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