Digressions of a Dilettante

Digressions of a Dilettante
Vignettes of Inanity by Bud Hearn

Thursday, December 17, 2009

A Letter To Santa

A Christmas Trilogy, Part II

Some say, ‘Seeing is Believing’…but I say, ‘Believing is Seeing.’”
Dewitt Jones, Photographer, National Geographic Magazine


Santa Claus
North Pole


Dear Santa

I hardly know where to start, much less what to say. It’s been a long time since you’ve had a letter from me. Do you remember when? I do. It was 1950. I was 8, going on 9, and I’d accused you of being a fraud, a trickster of children, running a con scheme up there, or at least working illegal immigrant elves without green cards. Remember? I was dumb then, but I’ve wised up.

My apology will seem hollow…what could I plead? Not enough time, too busy? You’ve heard all that, so I won’t bother. Besides, I know you’re busier than ever, so many requests, so little time. But I am concerned that global warming is melting your headquarters. A fellow named Gore said so. Between you and me, I hope you ignore his letters…association with him would damage your reputation, believe me.

I get teary when remembering the many letters I sent to you years ago. In those days my brother and I, and our friends, would try to figure out just how you could make all those toys and deliver them all on one night. Since our house had no chimney, we wondered how you’d get in. Somehow you managed, because the milk and cookies were missing in the morning. How did you do that? We never figured it out.

I remember the letter I sent asking for a red bike. I can’t imagine how you got it into the house, but there it stood…I believed then, ‘cause seeing is believing to a kid. I admit I can’t recall everything I ever asked for, especially things like clothes. Somehow you knew my exact size, because they always fit.

Do you remember the set of tiny trucks, tractors and cars you left once? Why, we became engineers and road builders in the grit of our back yard, constructing small freeways, building small, stick cities to visit. We believed we were travelers, visiting places of excitement far beyond our small hick town. Guess what? It came to pass. But you knew it would, didn’t you?

Remember the Daisy lever-action BB rifles you gave us? And all the toy soldiers? We became warriors, real and imagined (well, I shot a few sparrows, anyway…I mourn for those fallen creatures to this day!). Once we played “real” army, drew sides, fought battles. Our parents took us to the woodshed for it. Remember those “harmless” pea shooters? Why, small boys can fashion everything into some kind a weapon. We amused ourselves for weeks in the movie theater before the proprietor body-searched us and confiscated our artillery.

What about the chemistry sets? The house reeked of sulfur for weeks. Don’t forget the erector kits, the parts of which were sucked up by the vacuum, causing great consternation with Mom. Or the Monopoly game…we were all entrepreneurs, and some of us pretend to be today. Space limits my recalling the model airplanes, which never lasted long. Yet I became a pilot some years later.

We really believed when you trusted us with large boxes of fireworks…no directions, no warnings, no rules. We were left to our own devices for entertainment. Everything was fair game with cherry bombs. Empty cans sailed high into the air, mailboxes blew apart, fence posts were shattered and roadside TNT bombs rocked passing cars. We once set the sedge field behind our house on fire with roman candles. Worse than the whipping we got, our bamboo fort was burned to the ground.

But back to the purpose of this letter. Age has enlightened me about the mystique of Christmas, of a jolly man in a red outfit, 8 reindeer and a tiny sleigh filled with toys for “good boys and girls.” It’s a time of great expectation, of anticipation, of surprises…and endless discussions of just Who you are and How you always knew what we wanted and needed. “Believing is receiving” we were told. Somehow, in spite of our doubt, it all came to pass. Santa, we need a renewal of that spirit!

The years passed…we played while the toys got larger; we grew up and moved on, made our own money. We forgot about you, but thankfully you did not forget about us. So, this letter is to thank you for your faithfulness. While we still don’t totally understand it, yet we believe it… faith may be the miracle of Christmas.

Next week children young and old will again attempt to resolve the enigma of which is the better truth of Christmas ---”Seeing is Believing, or Believing is Seeing?” Convince us all again, Santa…and keep eating the cookies!

Repentantly yours,

Bud Hearn
December 17, 2009


PS: No wish list is attached. Just a simple “Thanks” for continuing to infuse us with the joy of giving and the renewal of the Spirit of Christmas, and for always showing up. FYI, you remind me of Someone I know whose name is Jesus…are you related?

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