12/6/24 - Friday Forget-Me-Nots by Jim Silcott

Photo Caption: Indoor Recess

Dear Our Lady of Peace Family,

Last weekend, I was at Timbuk Farms, the Christmas tree place out by my home in Granville, with the six grandchildren who are in town. 

The weather was cold but sunny, and my daughter and her husband picked out a nice tree. While we were waiting for the tree to be roped for easy car transport, we wandered through the large greenhouse. In the corner sat a very plump Santa Claus and his wife, Mrs. Claus. There was no line to see the First Couple of the North Pole and there were no photo hawks trying to sell us expensive pictures of our grandchildren, which was refreshing. Two of the grandchildren sat on their laps, three sat in front and Caroline, the oldest, stood in back while we took out our phones and snapped some good photos. 

Afterwards, the Silcott grandkids, Charlie, Thomas and Olivia, mentioned that the next day they were going to see Santa again at another venue. I didn’t press the issue about multiple Santas in multiple places while, at the same time, he was busy at the North Pole getting ready for the Christmas Eve gift giveaway. They weren’t bothered about it, so I wasn’t either. 

It got me to thinking, though, about my own experience with Santa Claus when I was a child. I believed firmly and steadfastly until Fourth grade when, after vehemently defending his good name and reality, my classmates laughed at me. Later, when I got home, my mother gave me the “Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus” talk, which all parents must do at some point with their children. 

The reason I believed for so long was that I was not exposed to multiple Santas vying for my time and attention. When I was very little, perhaps two or three years old, Santa actually climbed through the bedroom window that I shared with my sister, Cyn, at our row house in Baltimore. Although my memory of it was vague, even a couple of years later, my mother snapped a photo of Santa Claus himself sitting on my bed. Physical proof! We didn’t have a fireplace, so the window was his easiest point of entry from the rooftop. 

Later, living in the small village of Northport, we saw Santa Claus only twice during the Christmas season and it was weeks apart. First, it was at the finish of the Macy’s Day Thanksgiving Parade in NYC where the very real Santa was on the last float. A couple of weeks later, Santa came to our fire station on Main Street. He sat in one of the two bays. We got to give him our list of wants and he gave us a large juicy orange as a parting gift while he said, “Now be good for your mother and father, little boy.” 

That was it. There were no more competing Santas to confuse my young brain and, until Fourth grade, 

I was a true and fervent believer. 

Later, with my own three children, the real Santa resided in the Downtown Lazarus store on the Sixth floor, along with the Talking Tree. While they experienced other Santas, even at the breakfast with Santa here at Our Lady of Peace and at Northland Mall, we explained that those were the largest of the elves filling in for their boss, who was very busy preparing for Christmas. None of them believed as long asI did, and I blame the proliferation of bearded men in red suits for their early skepticism. 

Fortunately, I don’t think any child is traumatized by this realization that their parents went to elaborate measures to deceive our children, and they happily participate in the ruse with younger siblings!

It’s part of the fun of this time of year. 

Fortunately, there is only one Jesus Christ for us to await at this time of year. Hopefully our children and we are always true believers! 

Jim Silcott