miracle on 52nd street

Yesterday, I saw my cousins John (6) and Ethan (4). It’s so much fun to be around kids this time of year because they truly believe in Santa Claus and all the magic of the Christmas season. Not only do they believe in Santa’s magic but in their minds, reality and magic coexist: After engaging them in the standard line of Christmas questioning – what do you want for Christmas this year? How many days until Santa comes? Did you write a letter to Santa? – Ethan asked me why he couldn’t just pick up the phone and call the North Pole to tell Santa what he wanted. Why did he have to write a letter? John told me that all Emma (his 8 year-old sister) wants for Christmas is to see Santa. I wonder how long before Emma learns that Santa isn’t real. How will she find out? Will she keep up the façade for her brothers or will she accidentally (or intentionally) let the truth slip?

I remember I was in school when I first learned that Santa wasn’t real. I don’t remember who told me or how old I was. What I do remember is that when I confronted my parents about the existence of Santa, my dad delivered a lengthy speech about the history and modernization of Santa. I’m not sure if I was far too young to know that Santa didn’t exist or if my dad was utterly determined to keep the magic alive. We are talking about the man who overnighted an advent calendar to my office this year so I would have it ON December 1. I’m also not sure if he had this story prepared knowing this day would come, or if it came naturally (lawyers have an answer for everything, don’t they?). My dad convinced me that as the world’s population grew, it became impossible for Santa to visit every house across the world in one night. And so, the exhausted and over-worked Santa started a corporation. There were many Santas and they all drove trucks. From that point forward, I fell asleep looking outside my window waiting for the “Rockville Centre Santa” rather than falling asleep in my bed listening for that magical, omnipresent Santa like the normal children.

There must be children (and probably adults) who actually put letters to Santa in mailboxes all over the world. What happens to these letters? Are they thrown away? Are the letters returned with big yellow stickers that say “return to sender” and if so, do parents scramble to hide the returned mail? Do U.S. postal service workers open these letters en route? Do they bring their favorite letters home to share a laugh and a smile with their friends and family? Although there is no person by the name of “Santa Claus” living at the scrawled address: “North Pole,” is it a felony to open his mail? It’s not addressed to the mail carrier. And is there anyone who has come upon a child’s letter that has been moved to send that child a response or even a gift “from Santa?” Or would that be creepy?

If there was a Santa – the omnipresent, magic Santa (not the Santa-by-ordinance) -- I wonder what my letter (or as Ethan suggests – phone call) would request? I think that writing a letter to Santa a good exercise for everyone – even for presumably rational and established adults. I am going to write Santa a letter before Christmas Eve. I’m not sure I will post it here or put it in the mail for fear some postal service worker will read it or send a return letter/gift because I for one would find that creepy. Is that cynical or safe?