[Somewhere from the heartland....]
It's only a suit. An impossibly ridiculous red-and-white get up with a peaked hat with a fuzzy ball at the end. A suit with a bushy, white nylon-haired wig and beard.
"Be careful, he's an icon", said my friend, as I put on the Santa suit. It felt uneasy being on the other side of the camera, more so to play the role of Santa, who was a great super-hero to believe in: Non-violent, egalitarian; wielding the power of kindness and generosity...a caterer of dreams. The beard, big hair and the hat are like a mask, one that walls one in, and is hard to breathe and talk through. Fine nylon strands stuck to my lips and tongue. Only my eyes showed....The first location was at a lakeside resort in a church that had been renovated into a chic mini-mall, full of delicate and colorful Christmas knicknacks. My throne was a green velvet couch, with a hand-made Santa quilt over it. 2-D and 3-D Santas, side-by-side. Children began arriving.. Their faces lighting up when they saw Santa, smiling and even jumping with glee as they approached. Many were shy, but they still wanted to ask Santa for what they wanted.
Some had incredibly long and detailed lists. Sitting on my lap, their voices cracked and eyes glittered as they liltingly recited their wishes. One little girl only wanted one thing: Rapunzel Barbie, nothing else. Her father smiled, lovingly looking on. Another wanted Saint Nick to know she was visiting her grandmother this year, and to note the address change. My friend took polaroid pictures of the kids and Santa. But it wasn't only kids. Adults sat on my lap. Mostly women, but a few men did, too. They smiled broadly, eyes glinting, their voices longing. Mostly houses and cars. Lexus, BMW Z4's, Jeeps, a teenager made do with a Corolla.
A thirty-something woman, of slight build, with three friends, told Santa in a soft voice: "I want my health back". Santa hugged her tight and eyes rapidly watering, said: "Why....Karen, that will take up little room in my sleigh". A white-haired lady wanted her ex-husband on a bearskin rug. Santa asked: "With or without clothes ?". "Without", came the reply. A glowing face and eyes intensely looked into Santa's and said she wanted her baby to be born healthy. "Happiness", from a gentle-faced woman.
The second location was a company Christmas party in a ballroom. People had their picture taken on Santa's lap (the throne here was a blue, vinyl-covered brushed aluminum chair. Magic was underfoot. I was still me, but I had become Santa. Normal adults would become starry-eyed and wistful, and tell Santa their wants and dreams. The guy in the Santa suit wished he had an army of elves, and that he could do the BIG Mission Impossible and make it all come true on Christmas. All I could do was be Santa, and in a few minutes, open doors, be kind, listen to their dreams and wants, reassure and tell them with loving eyes and tone that some may come true, that it is good to dream, and to share those dreams with a perfect stranger in a funny suit.
A mother brought her mentally handicapped son up for a picture. He shook my hand, and grinned. He was too excited to tell me what he wanted, and shook my hand when we were done. The next woman told me she had always wanted to sit with Santa, but had always been too shy. She lit up, and I could clearly see her as a little girl talking with Santa. Two women sat on my lap simultaneously, and asked for sex toys (!). Santa replied that one elf, a perculiarly happy one, handled those orders. As we left, Santa lugging cases on rollers, power source in hand, was stopped by the young man who had shaken my hand earlier. He said: "Thank you Santa, for never forgetting me".
Happy Holidays, Phoforum
--- Luis
