Digressions of a Dilettante

Digressions of a Dilettante
Vignettes of Inanity by Bud Hearn

Thursday, December 12, 2013

A Letter to Santa


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

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Santa Claus
North Pole
December 12, 2013

Dear Santa:

Where do I begin? It’s been a long time since I wrote to you. It was 1950. I was 8 years old. I accused you of being fat, a fraud, a trickster, running a nefarious scheme and working illegal immigrant elves without green cards. I was dumb then.

My apology may seem hollow…what can I plead? Guilty by reason of insanity? You’ve heard all that. Besides, I know you’re busy. So many requests, so little time. But, trust me, I’m concerned about global warming. Are your headquarters really melting? We’re spending enormous sums to keep you in business.

I’m nostalgic when remembering the letters I sent. My brother and I tried to figure out how you could make those toys and deliver them all on one night in a sled. Our house had no chimney. How did you get in? Obviously somehow, since the milk and cookies were always missing in the morning.

I remember the letter about the red bike. How did you get it into the house? Yet, there it was. I believed in those days, because seeing is believing to a child. I can’t recall everything I asked for, especially clothes. Somehow you knew my exact size. They always fit.

Do you remember the tiny trucks, tractors and cars you once left? Crawling in the grit of our back yard, we became engineers and road builders . We constructed small freeways, built small stick cities. We fantasized being travelers, visiting places of intrigue far beyond our small hick town. Guess what? It came to pass. You knew it would, didn’t you?

Remember the Daisy lever-action BB rifles you gave us? The toy soldiers? We became warriors, real and imagined. Once we played ‘real’ army, drew sides, fought battles. Our parents took us to the woodshed for that.

Remember those ‘harmless’ pea shooters? Listen, small boys can fashion anything into some kind of a weapon. We amused ourselves in the movie theater until the owner began to bodily search us and confiscate our artillery.

Oh, the chemistry sets! The house reeked of sulfur for weeks. How ‘bout the erector kits? Parts were sucked up by the vacuum, causing great consternation with Mama. We became Monopoly tycoons. We still pretend to be. Unfortunately your model airplanes were shoddy. They never lasted long. Neither did my pilot’s license.

The fireworks were the best. Thanks for trusting us…no directions, no warnings, no rules. We were small-town terrorists. Everything was fair game…cherry bombs exploded, empty cans soared, mailboxes ripped apart. Fence posts were shattered. TNT bombs rocked passing cars. Roman candles set the sedge field behind our house on fire. Worse than the whipping we got, our bamboo fort burned to the ground.

But we have missed you. Age has enlightened us about the mystique of Christmas. It’s a time of great expectation, of anticipation, and of surprises…and endless discussions of who you are and how you always know everything.

We were told that “believing is receiving.” Somehow, in spite of our doubt, it all came to pass. Santa, we need a renewal of that spirit!

The years passed. We grew up and moved on. Our toys got bigger. We forgot about you, but thankfully you didn’t forget about us. So, belatedly I write 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.

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Soon children , young and old, will attempt to resolve the enigma of Christmas… “Seeing is Believing, or Believing is Seeing?” Convince us again, Santa…and keep eatin’ the cookies!

Repentantly yours,

Bud Hearn

PS: This may be a strange question, but are you related to Jesus? Just wondering.


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