In defense of Santa.

I was distressed to run across a television news story about a “bad Santa” out in Maine. I won’t throw a link to the people that did the story because it was shoddy journalism in my less than humble opinion.

A candid photo taken while Santa is lost in thought.

I take being Santa seriously. I come home exhausted from turning up the dial to “11” when I put on that suit. My back hurts and my arms and shoulders ache from picking up and holding little ones on my knee from 7:30 until 9 pm. Up to 400 repetitions in a day, much more than that for mall Santas. It’s physically demanding work on occasion. That toy bag will weigh up to 50 pounds when people load you up heavily. But to the parents and children it no doubt seems effortless. After all, it’s just one small child at a time. Continue reading

No coincidences.

This morning I was out for my bi-monthly beard care appointment with Dennis at The Petite Salon. He mentioned that a friend of his was looking for a Santa. I gave him some of my cards and then decided to head over to Claddagh Coffee and talk to Mary about a Santa visit in person.

We chatted a few minutes, I gave her a card and she promised to let me know. I asked what was planned and she said that it was kind of an Irish Christmas celebration. I managed not to jump up and down but did have the presence of mind to tell her, “I know a Santa, who’s standing right here, who has an Irish green Santa suit.”

The effect was perfect. Nobody has a green Santa suit. Not true. I have two. Early on in my career I was asked if I could be an Irish Santa. I had two suits made and never wore them because I never got the request again.

Well, that may or may not sway the purchase decision but it was nice to be able to offer the suit as an option.

I headed for the door and noticed a Sheltie standing there looking at me from under a table. My heart kind of fluttered. You see it has only been a week ago this moment (as I’m typing) that Maisie left us. I stopped and talked to the owner. Yes, Sheltie, not a small Collie.

The girl’s name was Madeline. And she was as sweet and gentle as Maisie. A big girl, around 35 pounds, she has a beautiful black coat and gentle, clear eyes. I sat and talked with her “mom” for quite a while about faith, Santa, dogs, loss, and having her picture taken with Santa (mom, not Madeline.)

I left the coffee shop renewed. I had a Sheltie moment for the day and it was wonderful. I was able to see the promise of a young dog and all the joy she’ll bring to her family over the next dozen years or so. And I was able to remember the really excellent times with Maisie in a different frame as a result.

I’m home now. One week has gone by exactly since I left the vet’s office much poorer than I went in the door. But life is moving forward. Edzell is snoozing next to the couch. There wasn’t a mess when I got home. Maybe he’s healed a bit in the last week and isn’t as much angry as lonely. I hope to remedy that loneliness very soon.

Perhaps best of all, the carpenter called just after I walked in and saw Ed. He’s coming over Monday to build the ramp so my old friend can make it up the stairs just a little easier. I’m glad to do that for him. He’s a great dog with a good heart. I need to make his life smooth as silk when I can.

Is there an “old dog” in your life who needs a little help? Perhaps an old friend who you haven’t talked to in a while? Or maybe a stranger in a coffee shop with whom you can talk about the love of Christ while rubbing a young dog’s head. Take that time today and do something nice, something new, something out of love for a dog or a stranger. I promise it will brighten your day.

My boy, Ed.

Scientific research is scary.

All good things must come to an end.

Twinkies, cockroaches, and cupcakes were to survive the impending nuclear war when I was a child.

Not so true. Another childhood memory smashed like … Wonderbread.

Yes, I found mold on my cupcakes just 2 weeks past the expiration date. Guess I shouldn’t have saved them, eh?

Vacation and Contest time!!!!!11!!1!!!1!

Yeah, kind of lame. But I promised to resume normal posts on the 8th. So I have one more day to be abnormal. The contest for the used bedsheets and fruitcake is now open. I will accept entries via the comments feature from subscribers only for 1 week, contest closing on December 14, 2012 at 2359 Central time.

*(Hint: subscribing is free. Go to the upper right side of this page and follow the instructions. It’s the little box marked “Subscribe.” You get your daily blog post via email. You might win used (but clean) slippery sheets and a fruitcake. What are you waiting for?)*

Include your name, your phone number, and 2 reasons why you deserve used sheets and a fruitcake for Christmas. I will not post the comment until I take out your information. (Promise, double pinky-swear.) There will be extra credit given for the really amusing and sarcastic ones. Keep it clean, people, this is a family blog.

While you think about your reasons, consider a new vacation venue this year: North Korea! To think I’ve been wasting my time going to Las Vegas, San Francisco, Reno, Naples, Belize, and Des Moines. Pyongyang, here I come. Man, and to think Reno claims to be the bowling capital of the world.

(Say hello to the Dear Leader’s most recent ruling relative for me when you’re there. He’ll be the only one not observing “National Famine Week.”)

Link to the propaganda video. It’s really bad. Especially Boris Slobatnatakov’s accent. Also, extra points if you can identify the part of the brain damaged by watching this more than once. (Hint: The woman from San Francisco subscribes to the youtube.com channel for North Korea.)

Santa’s gift.

Every year I deliver countless gifts as Santa. I often go into my own pocket to provide something for the little ones who might not have anything. I love doing it. It’s my joy.

But sometimes someone gives Santa a gift:

A gift for Santa.

I was sitting on my esteemed throne last Saturday at an annual event. I’ve been going there for years and years and I’m already booked at Primrose of West Plymouth for 2013. They’re great people and great families. About 2 hours into the event a young girl came up to me with a very shy, but intense, smile. She had a box in her hands and she offered it to me with the comment, “This is for you, Santa.”

I am always honored and touched when I get one of these gifts. They have run the gamut from a pair of antlers with “Santa” on them to a full spa set. Some are still on my fridge, some enshrined in my spare bedroom in a place of honor. And some I ate so fast you would have thought I’d opened an empty container.

This one was special. She’d obviously given great thought to the items inside. There were a series of small, hand-made Christmas tree ornaments with the name of everyone in her family inscribed on them. They are going up on my tree this week. The ornaments were layered on top of some caramels and chocolates. And she beamed when I asked if I should open it then or wait until Christmas.

I don’t take myself very seriously sometimes. But I certainly take Santa seriously. He means a lot to these small children. And they mean the world to him.

I’m back. I’m starting to heal. I will miss my friend Maisie for a long time to come, but the new life has begun and this small gift and the laughter and joy that accompanied it have helped me to become myself once again. Thank you for that gift, young lady. And thank you, Santa, for giving me a special window into the world around me.

And most of all, thank you to all of my readers who have sent so many kind and wonderful notes over the past week. I appreciate all of you and the fact that you’re here today. And I know that for many of you there were tears of your own for friends in your lives with fur. Some still here, some gone on ahead. Thank you for sharing this journey with me.

And soon, hopefully, there will be another member of the family to share the love we have. We’re working on adopting a rescue dog and overjoyed at the prospect of Ed having a companion and that fourth wheel being back on the car.

God Bless you all.