To fully appreciate the title of this column, you need to find a fan and speak “I am Santa Claus” into it to the tune of “Iron Man” by Black Sabbath.
There are at least two Christmas parodies that I’m aware of that use the same music, but search for Bob Rivers version. I think it’s excellent.
I’m nowhere as jolly as the fat man with the red suit, and I can’t recall ever having piloted a sled led by flying reindeer, but I think that I kept our children believing in Santa as long as I could. No adult should ever betray belief in the gift-flinging Santa from the North Pole. He exists as long as we let him.
I never did, but my children’s older classmates did. Spoil sports. I always look forward to the milk and cookies left for Santa, and the all-night bloodshot eyes and blisters from “some assembly required” and all the adult-proof packaging.
Honey, where are the batteries?
Mrs. Claus (my wife Lora Kaye) and I have conspired for well over 40 years to deliver the holiday cheer and the real reason for the season to our children and grandchildren. With a bit of luck, I’ll be able to inflict my version of holiday mayhem on at least another generation. It’s been a great run thus far.
In the meantime, I’ll enjoy some high-octane eggnog, and hot chocolate guaranteed to catapult most mere mortals into sugar shock. I’ve always thought that Christmas morning delivers confusion to toddlers. Right after Thanksgiving, a tree appears in the family room, with carefully wrapped packages at its base. They are admonished not to open any of them – allegedly teaching them patience. Building anticipation… and providing them with hang-ups for years.
Then, on one specific morning, all that is dispensed with, and 25 days of “don’t touch that” is replaced with “go for it”. Confusion reigns supremely for about two minutes and then the wrapping paper hurricane begins. It’s my grandparenting duty to bag the wrapping paper hurriedly torn from precious packages, being careful to spare any of the gifts, and I completed it successfully yet again this year.
Slightly earlier in December, I did a stint as the “Hanukkah Bunny”, a construct that only those blessed with a sense of humor could concoct with no disrespect to the holiday or the Easter hare. I am allowed to juxtapose holidays at my discretion. You are, too. Just have some fun with it. Respectfully, as this goyem does.
I am thankful that our friends with different traditions invite us to participate.
Different religions. Different traditions. Exactly the same emphasis on family. It’s why we get along.
It’s always about family.
What’s not to like about gift-giving holidays that promote faith, family, love, and light?
From my family to yours, we hope you had a wonderful Christmas, and we wish you a very happy New Year, as well.
