In the house where we grew up, my brothers, my sister, and I were taught that the focus of Christmas was the Christ Child, born in a manger. We were further taught that “every good gift and every perfect gift is from above,” and that the gift of God's son made all others gifts possible, along with the experiences of joy and hope and peace and love and goodwill and a generous spirit.
Many of those delightful experiences are represented in the characters of Father Christmas, Ol' St. Nick, and Santa Claus. At our house the “jolly ol' elf” did things up right.
In the fleeting days of our childhood, we learned a great deal about him. For one thing, he was faithful and true. He always showed up. I can't remember a Christmas that he didn't deliver on time and in style.
We also learned that the man in the red suit was a little absent-minded.
Our living room couch had three large sectional cushions. On Christmas Eve three of the four boys picked a cushion. The prime spot was a big, oversized matching sofa chair we called “the big chair.” Every fourth year one brother got the big chair. (When my sister came along we brought in another chair.) We left a note with our name on it in our “place” so Santa Claus would know where to leave what.
He never got it right. Each one's gifts would be together, but never where they were supposed to be. Every Christmas morning, with confused amusement, someone would declare, “He did it again!” It was really kind of funny.
And we concluded that Santa Claus had a healthy sense of humor. It seemed he was always deliberately misplacing things. One Christmas, my brother Tom, received a new fishing rod and reel. The rod was one of those two-piece jobs, but the tip section was missing. Late Christmas day we found it tucked behind the pictures on the mantle. We decided Santa was a tricky ol' elf.
On another Christmas, Tom set a big rat trap at the front door in an attempt to catch Santa Claus. I didn't think it was a good idea myself. I mean, why risk making him mad?
The next morning, the trap was sprung, and inside it was a large piece of torn red cloth. The cloth was wedged in the front door at the bottom corner, making it appear that Santa had barely escaped. The way I saw it, Santa must have felt a draft for the rest of the night, thanks to losing the seat of his pants at the McCall house.
I learned from that experience that the man in the red suit had a forgiving spirit. He returned, undaunted, the next year.
We also learned that Santa Claus is smart.
There were two buildings that flanked our house on the right side. One was located directly behind the other. We called the one in front the front shop and the one behind the back shop. It just seemed to make sense. The front shop was in constant use, a center of activity. The back shop was more “out of the way” and seldom visited. Our hay baler was stored there in the off season.
One day in mid-December,...
my three brothers and I found ourselves playing in the back shop. If my memory is correct, I would say Tom was probably 14 years old. That would have put me at 11, John at 7, and Dewey at 6.
I was always intrigued by the bale of hay that never quite made it out of the hay baler's chute at the end of hay season. As we played that day, I was giving the partial bale of hay a close examination. Strangely, the other three boys gathered around to see what I was doing. I grabbed a block of hay and pulled. What I uncovered froze us in our tracks.
Four new BB guns still in their boxes were tucked neatly back in the chute. No one moved. Time stood still as a deathly silence fell over us. With the slightest note of horror in his voice, John whispered, “That's what we're getting for Christmas!” I couldn't breath. No one wanted to think what we were thinking.
I have always loved my big brother Tom. He has always had a knack for knowing what to say when it was crunch time. He was up to the task. He would bring us out of our daze.
“What is wrong with ya'll!” Tom snarled, half mocking us. “Don't you know Santa Claus can't haul all those presents around at one time? He drops some of them off ahead of time and picks them up later.”
Of course, it made perfect sense. We all breathed a deep collective sigh of relief.
You have never seen four boys repair a situation with such speed and skill. We got out of that shop in a flash. We would not return to the scene, nor would it ever be mentioned among us.
On Christmas morning Santa picked up his stash and delivered it right on time. That Santa Claus is one smart dude!
And Ol' Kris Kringle taught us something about selflessness. In all the years
he visited our childhood home, he never brought a present to my father and mother.
But he brought us one gift that I especially treasure. It was the look of satisfaction and joy in my mother's and father's eyes. They would sit and hold hands and watch as we discovered our gifts and showed them to one another. And they would seem to be as happy and surprised as we were.
That Santa Claus, he is something else! As I look forward to this Christmas Eve, I can't help but be excited. This will be my 56th time to be looking for Santa Claus to come.
And you know something else?
I still believe!
Copyright 2007 by Jack McCall
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