Shattering the Myth(s)

I still remember the day I realized, with finality, that Santa Claus wasn't real. I was standing on the back porch area of our house in Burlington, IL. I can still smell the hay-ish smell of the ropey, natural fibered rug/mat my parents had put on the floor back there. The room was essentially a closed-in porch and was always a bit colder than the rest of the house and always on a slope that made you feel off-kilter.

Anyway... there I was, standing around doing... something - and I looked down in the trash and saw the empty packaging for my Snoopy pencil sharpener lying in the trash. The pencil sharpener had been a stocking stuffer... and I was overjoyed and perhaps slightly self-righteously excited to finally have hard evidence there was indeed no such thing as Santa Claus, but rather two parents who were still keeping up the ruse for my younger brother (who still very firmly believed).

I think I confronted my mother, who acted surprised it had taken me so long to figure it out, and I agreed to keep quiet until Brent discovered the truth on his own or started asking questions about the veracity of our Christmas myth.

This story sticks out in my head because I feel it marked a major turning point for my relationship with Christmas. I think some of the nostalgia and fun and giddiness of the season was lost in that moment. The season became about something else, and perhaps also became something that could never quite live up to my childhood adoration and complete immersion in the magicalness of it all.

But it also meant that Christmas became about much more than "presents" and getting what I wanted. I felt greater responsibility for giving as well as receiving, and I felt a sense of power, love, and happiness to be able to be someone else's Santa... to be the one who created magic because I had found something that echoed my sentiments and said something more than ca-ching. Something more akin to, I love you * I know you * I care.

I sort of equate this with the attachments I hold now and the way in which my understanding of the world, my value and beliefs, my conception of truth, etc. are all changing as I continue to grow, evolve, and age each year.

It's interesting to be aware of what we hold onto and what we let go. To look at the lies we tell ourselves because they are easier to handle, and the truths we avoid because they are too painful to embrace.

Not every myth is dangerous - and there is something bittersweet in the loss of blissful ignorance that comes with letting go of some of our personal lore - but ultimately, I think I would rather strive to see things as they are... remembering perception is always a matter of choice and mythology is grounded at least somewhat in truth.

Winter Wonderment

We saw Santa at the mall today. Ari wanted to go check it out and see if he was "the real Santa."

After one look at his white beard, spectacled face, and comfortable perch atop a shiny, red sleigh... Ari looked at us all wide-eyed and excitedly said, "It is real Santa!"

She talked to him some more (he was nice enough to wish us Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and to wave and say hello multiple times as Ari shyly chatted with him sotto voce), and then we headed to the toy store... during which time she bounced along, occasionally squealing with total star-struck wonderment, "Me see real Santa!" Like she couldn't quite believe her luck.

Andy and I were not sure, prior to this year, how we would handle the whole Santa thing. Do you explain the myth? Do you encourage the make believe? Do you cop to buying the presents? I think we ultimately decided to follow her lead. So... when she said that was real Santa, we smiled happily (drunk with love) and agreed with how amazing it was he had been at our mall—of all places.

How cool it must seem to run into the real Santa on a Sunday afternoon. Sort of like seeing the President-Elect Obama at your grocery store one day or running into Meryl Streep at the Rural King, quietly scanning bird feeders and picking out suet.

Sometimes the most miraculous things about having a child are the simply, daily pleasures she seems to be able to reap from even the simplest of circumstances. Silly, happy gifts that are grabbed up with hungry, open arms and enjoyed thoroughly without worry or attachment or embarassment.

So yeah. That is cool. Santa was at our mall. He said hello and was really nice and friendly. And his suit looked way awesome.

I really love this time of year.