A Visit from Santa
Santa and I never really had a very good relationship. I wanted us to be the best of friends, but it just never worked out that way. When I was little, we went to visit Santa in the mall. And he grabbed hold of my hand and wouldn’t let go – so I felt compelled to kick him until he did let me go. In retrospect, I realize that he was trying to hold on to me until I could get my candy cane, but really, at the time, I wasn’t feeling that sort of love from him. Being a cancer (born on july 2, for all those who want to start shopping early), I had high expectation for Santa. I fully expected him to fulfill my childhood dreams and fantasies.
The first time I began to doubt the red suited man was one Christmas at Grandaddy Broadbents house (we spent most Christmas Eve’s at my Grandaddy Broadbent’s house when I was little – until we moved back to Cadiz). Anyway, Jodi and I were sleeping in the twin bed together. Jason was sleeping in the crib – which I thought was so silly because he didn’t sleep in a crib at our house. But I suppose he was only 2 or so at the time, so he would have had plenty of room. My grandfather had a wonderful, old two story house. And on the landing on the stairs, there was an old Grandfather Clock. I would love to have that clock – but I doubt that I’ll ever have the option or occasion – no matter that I still go and visit Grandmother Ruth (who’s not really my grandmother but the only grandmother I’ve ever known on the Broadbent side – who seemed to hate us without end when we were little – though I think she just disapproved of my mom and the heathenish way in which she was raising us – I suppose we were all somewhat forgiven when we didn’t end up in jail or on the 6:00 news).
Jodi and I were giggling and whispering in the bed. My mom reminded us that if we were awake at 12:00 Santa may not come and visit. I didn’t believe such nonsense for no where in the myth of Christmas that I had heard was there ever any mention of not seeing Santa if you were awake. In fact, Twas the Night Before Christmas clearly stated that if you were awake, you would see Santa and his reindeer. The grandfather clock began to chime the hour. And Jodi and I counted to twelve. It was midnight. The magic hour. And there was no Santa. No reindeer on the roof, no jingling sleigh bells. And it was then that I knew. Not consciously knew – but still new. When we went downstairs, Jason had gotten a race car set that year. And I can’t remember what I had gotten – I’m sure I got clothes from Grandmother Broadbent – WOO HOO the perfect child gift to be sure – though I suspect she felt that we didn’t have anything decent to wear. But it wasn’t the same. This time, they were just presents, not little bits of magic sitting beneath the tree.
Another Christmas I asked for Barbie and got my aunt’s old barbies, and G.I. Joe instead of Ken, and a new – flat footed, flat chested, pasty faced SKIPPER – I was devastated. True that was from my Grandaddy Broadbent instead of Santa – but you get the gist of my Christmas disappointment. My Grandaddy Broadbent found great joy in messing with my Christmas, testing my polite response to gifts on an almost yearly basis. He never did the same to Jodi or Jason – just me – and now that he’s gone, I don’t know if should consider that a special message about how he felt about me or what. For several years, Grandaddy Broadbent gave each of us $50 for Christmas. Each gift was always accompanied by some small trinket or what not. But as I got older, he seemed to experience no small amount of joy in watching my face when I opened my gift, looked for the money (which I invariably needed to pay a phone bill) and then not finding it, had to say a polite thank you for the mittens, socks, hat, scarf, what not – while Jason and Jodi pocketed their cash. Now, Grandaddy would always give the money to someone else – so I’d get it in the car – but there was always several minutes of panic while I tried to figure out how I was going to pay such and such bill without that money. One year, he asked me at Thanksgiving what I wanted for Christmas and I said a new car (I didn’t believe he’d get one – but it was what I wanted – and you never know what you can get if you ask) –anyway, when I opened my present that year, sure enough there was a brand new hotwheel – and no money.
But the magic of Christmas really ended when we were traveling home from Aunt Martha’s or Grandaddy Broadbent’s house one Christmas Eve and Mom stopped by Debbie’s apartment to pick up presents – clearly labeled from Santa – and then told us that he had left the gifts there instead of at our house. Let me simply say that when my mom is no longer interested in feeding a myth – she doesn’t put a lot of energy into the story – and there it was the end of Santa.
But not the end of the belief…or the desire… in the magic of Christmas. I am so grateful and excited that I now have kids for whom I can create the myth of Santa. I think that is why I so love the move Polar Express. Because it is about the magic of Christmas – and the desire for it to be true and that if you really believe that it is true – it can be true (a bit of Richard Bach Illusions thrown in there as well I think). I was never the main character little boy in the movie – I’m the poor kid – who never got the gift from santa before – Not to say I didn’t get gifts – but not THE GIFT.
To be fair – I’ve always been a bit bad about letting people know what I want. I didn’t feel that I really needed to let mom, jodi, dad or anyone know what I wanted Santa to bring. I just needed to let Santa know. He was the one who was supposed to bring the present – not them. And so, I never really got what I wanted. I did the same thing to the tooth fairy. I lost a tooth, but didn’t bother to tell anyone that I had done so. So the next morning when I didn’t have a quarter for my tooth, I was devastated. When I told my mom, she asked me to go check in the bathroom – and then she wrote me a check – saying I.O.U. and signed it the tooth fairy – and thus another bubble popped.
All of this comes about because of my current dilemma. Elijah really wants this monster truck – one of those battery powered ride on toys. And they are $300 – which is a bit beyond my budget – unless I use a credit card – and well – I hate to start a credit card, because I’ve poor impulse control when I have a credit card in my wallet – so I try not to get or use them. Anyway, I don’t want to say Santa can’t bring it. We went to the mall and it’s the only thing he said he wanted. And it’s killing my soul, because not getting it from Santa would be the beginning of the end – So here I sit trying to justify the purchase – it will hold up to 130lbs – so he’ll be able to ride it for several years. Isaiah will be able to ride it for several years too – and it can technically be for both of them – even though Isaiah couldn’t care less this year – though he would enjoy getting a free ride every now and then. I would even give up my own Christmas presents this year from my family to get the gift for Elijah -- I have everything I need – really – and I no longer need Christmas money to pay bills –
Ultimately, I know that that I most likely find a way to get this for Elijah – though I think Santa may ask Elijah to save up for part of the gift – And Elijah seems willing to save – he’s started charging for cleaning up the living room. Or actually, he’s now willing to clean up his mess for $1. This morning, he ran into the living room to pick up like 2 toys and then wanted to be paid – at which point I laughed in his face. Jose told me that he protested the payment amount – Jose was going to pay $2 – and Elijah said, “OH man! Why can’t you pay me $16 instead.”
And finally – my last bit of – I’m such a good mom – I found a santa’s bag at brylane home .com that you can get monogrammed – the bag in the picture had some family’s name. But I had it monogrammed FROM SANTA. And this year, and every year, we’re going to have Santa’s presents under the tree in that bag – with a note to please mail it back to the north pole. Our house is going to be the last one of the night – so he just left the bag there for us to mail it back. I thought that would be just another bit of proof that Santa was alive and well for the Serrano kids.
Oh – wait – another Christmas story. Perhaps the best Christmas gift that I ever received, I got from Jose. The first year that we were dating – actually it was the only year we were dating –as we got married that second year, I didn’t have any money to purchase gifts for my family. Jose, who’d met my family only once, purchased a gift for every member of my family. I was astounded by his generosity – amazed – and forever grateful. I don’t know if my family realized that he purchased those gifts or not – but nothing else ever showed me what type of man Jose really is. And if I wasn’t already deeply enamored of him, I was definitely after that. And, I felt that he might have liked me a bit too – as you don’t buy presents for an entire family without liking the person a little – though probably Jose would – as when I ask him why he decided to marry me – the only answer I ever get is – well, I was ready to get married, and you were a nice girl . . . I know, I know stand back girls this romantic creature is all mine.
