Once upon a time, back in the 1990s, I was asked an unusual question. A nice fellow named Ben used to dress up in a red suit every year and play the role of a cultural icon. He was the star of an annual parade and he handed out candy canes to hundreds of good little girls and boys.
One year, the head of the Healdsburg Chamber of Commerce (also my sweetie) called Ben to discuss that year’s commemoration, and found out that he was, well … unavailable.
“Honey, Ben died,” she told me, with a sad look. “Can you be Santa Claus this year?”
And, so it began. For the next dozen-plus years, I put on the suit, rode in the fire engine and sat in the Plaza — meeting, chatting, consoling and sometimes terrifying thousands of kids who came to share their dreams of generosity and hope.
Being Santa is an incredible gig. Yes, a few of the littles can’t restrain their bladders or their tears. Others are so scared, or anxious, or overwhelmed that they freeze up, or holler, or pull your beard halfway off.
Most are happy to see someone who doesn’t mind if they skipped their chores, or didn’t finish their homework, or never made the team. They enjoy a moment with someone who simply asks if they’ve been good, assures them that they’re doing their best, and says: “What’s your Christmas wish this year?”
The whole event begins with getting into a costume that restricts motion and vision, standing up in the front of an antique fire truck while a local firefighter tries not to pop the clutch and send you flying, then lumbering past a forest of high-fives on the way to the chair.
Once in the chair, a sweet sort of magic happens. You make sure the bag of candy canes is full and ask your elf to keep an eye on it, then you nod at the front of the line. The first kiddo runs to greet you with a hug and eyes wide with anticipation. You get them settled on a knee or beside you, encourage them to look at the camera, have a brief conversation, pat them on the shoulder, encourage them to “be good,” and off they go.
A few kiddos stick in your mind — the little girl who hides behind her eager parents’ legs and resists seeing Santa until the last moment; the little boy who runs at you, jumps in your lap and declares his undying love for Santa; the sisters who walk up quietly, then burst into excited talk when they hear Santa say: “Cómo estás?”
At the end of two hours or so, the line slows down and you realize that your knee is wet, your back hurts and you’re drenched in sweat under the heavy suit, despite the cold. That’s when your sweetie/elf collects you and drives you home, while you stay in character and wave at any kids who yell, “Mom, Santa’s in that car!”
Months later, when you’re back in jeans and a t-shirt, you run into parents who tell you, “I have a picture of you on my refrigerator,” and you have to stare blankly for a moment until you realize that they’re referring to Santa and their kid.
Santa also talks to grown-ups, and that’s when the magic takes an interesting turn. Adults know that it’s you wearing a costume, but in a way, they still believe. Adults see Santa as a sort of confessor, and they talk about illness, family trouble, sadness, loss and disappointment. They know that Santa will listen, nod and keep their secrets.
Next week, Ray/Santa is making a one-time return. There will be no secrets, no sadness and no wet knees. The newspaper is sponsoring an online virtual visit with Santa Claus, from 5 to 6 p.m. on Thursday, Dec. 10. Leaders of local chambers of commerce will visit and share the latest gift ideas and holiday events, there will be music and song, and a few kiddos will be able to answer that important question about their holiday wish.
Follow this link bit.ly/33xWMeT or this meeting ID 962 3314 3114 and use the Zoom passcode 487170 or visit the newspaper website for more information. Santa will see you next week!
Ray Holley is suiting up. He can be reached at ra*******@gm***.com.
