A True Story by Matthew Wynn
The eight-year-old approached me. He was angry. Balled fists. Wide eyes. Pinched lips.
“Santa Claus is a fraud,” he said.
“Oh,” I replied, “is that a fact? Well, then who leaves those presents under the tree that say ‘from Santa’?”
He paused, seemed to roll the question around in his head a few times then blurted out,
“It was probably Mrs. Claus. She probably does all the work and she doesn’t get any credit.”
True story kid. Just not in the way you think.
But he got me thinking, what do you say, these days, when an eight-year-old asks you about Saint Nick?
What will I say to my own kids, when that day inevitably arrives?
What follows is a letter to my future kids and that angry eight-year-old:
Dear kiddos,
Santa Claus is real. Just not in the way you think.
Let’s start at the beginning.
A long, long time ago, there was a man named Nicolas. He lived in Greece. He had a long beard and probably wore a red and white robe. He was a really good person. He tried to help people whenever he could. He would give gifts to strangers and always looked out for kids. The people liked him so much that when he died, they decided he should be called Saint Nicolas. He was the first Santa Claus.
In England, a long time ago, there was a man called Father Christmas. He had a long beard and wore a green robe. He would go out and spread Christmas cheer and give presents, and everyone was happy when they saw him. He was probably a Santa Claus too.
In France they also have a bearded guy who shows up at Christmas and brings gifts to children, except they call him Papa Noël. And then in the Netherlands, yep, same thing, a big jolly bearded guy named Sinterklaas. In German areas he went by Kris Kringle.
They all have different names, but they all have a few major things in common. They all have a costume, the ability to fly, and only come out at night.
Who does that remind you of?
Batman?
Sure, if Batman were married.
And just like how Batman is a symbol of justice, Santa is a symbol of the feeling you get at Christmas. That feeling that overwhelms you. That feeling that is so huge there’s no word for it, when you’re with family and friends and the Christmas Spirit takes hold and everything seems to glow and you realize this a moment you’ll remember eighty years from now.
But Batman isn’t really real — he’s really Bruce Wayne. And Santa has a secret identity too.
Our Santa Claus’s secret identity is Claude O’Donovan.
Santa Claude.
Aiken’s Santa was born in California and grew up on a ranch that raised wheat, barley, and cattle. He enjoyed driving Caterpillar tractors on the land; it was the 110 degrees in the shade summers that were a bit too much for him to swallow. When he was old enough he joined the Air Force and then went on to fly helicopters for the Army.
So — ability to fly — check.
After that, he took a job in North Pole, Alaska. And what did he do there? Oh no big deal, just flew helicopters so conservation scientists could tag polar bears and reindeer. He worked in Alaska with Caribou and Polar Bears — that’s the most Young Santa Claus job ever!
And then he met Mrs. Claus. It was a Wednesday. It was in Florida. She had just returned from a church trip to Israel, where she asked God at the Prayer Wall for a good and decent man who “loved God first, me second, and PS, make him a good dancer.” Let me tell you — I’ve seen some videos, and our Santa can cut a rug. He calls himself a “freelance, freestyle street dancer.” I couldn’t have put it better. The man has moves like Jagger. A jolly old elf, indeed.
Claude is Santa to thousands of children across the southeast, from Augusta to Columbia to Charleston. He’ll visit museums and Christmas parties, hospitals, boys’ and girls’ clubs, and homeless shelters. He’s a very busy man. He spreads a lot of cheer. In addition to the Salley and Wagener Parades, the Aiken Tree Lighting, and the Night of 1000 Lights, Santa Claude has over 45 events between now and Christmas. He doesn’t do corporate events though — it’s all about the kids.
Also, his beard is real. So, that pretty much proves it. Santa Claus, our Santa Claus, is real.
“Four years ago,” Claude confessed to me, “I kind of didn’t want Santa in our house. I wanted Christmas to be about the Lord.” Then a friend at Millbrook Church asked if he’d be Santa, because of the beard, for a Christmas party. He agreed. From that Christmas party forward, Mr. and Mrs. Claus were in demand. Even though O’Donovan was no fan of public speaking at the time, he embraced it and learned to love it.
You see my child, that’s called The Reluctant Hero. That’s so Bruce Wayne.
Claude O’Donovan is really Bruce Wayne, which proves he’s Santa Claus.
I met Santa Claus, last Friday. True Story. I met him and Mrs. Claus at the Bella Studio in Aiken. And I asked him a few questions. I buttered him up with a few softballs. I didn’t want to rattle him. I wanted to make sure he was a real Santa.
What’s the worst job you ever had? K.P., Kitchen Police, in the military. Basically, you’re washing dishes and cleaning grease traps.
What do you do to relax? Read.
Favorite Sport? College football.
When are you happiest? When I’m with her (motioning towards Mrs. Claus), … dancing with her. I can be with her 24/7. We just … enjoy each other.
Any love advice? (Mrs. Claus answered) Meet him in a church, not in a bar.
Who is your role model? Her (motioning towards Mrs. Claus).
(Time for a curve ball)
What’s something in the world that you disdain? (Without skipping a beat) Willful ignorance.
(Well played, Kringle. So then I pitched a fastball, straight down the middle. A question that will finally prove, once and for all, whether our Santa is the real deal.)
So, why do you do it? (Mrs. Claus answered) We were having lunch after church one Sunday, and at the table next to us is a family, and the little child is staring at him, and finally says, “Thank you for my present.” (Santa blushed as Mrs. Claus continued. Rosy cheeks — our Santa’s got those too.)
The family pulled up a photo on their cell phone of last year’s tree lighting. The child remembered talking to Santa. In the picture, Santa promised a present. In reality, Claude gave that child one more year of a world wherein a jolly old man who is full of the Christmas Spirit devotes December to spreading cheer, good tidings, and great joy. Whether by sleigh or SUV, that doesn’t matter to me.
“Being a part of the memory of that child,” said Santa, “just to think, eighty years from now, they’ll open up a drawer and get out a book of pictures say, ‘Wow, I remember that Christmas.’ I get to be a part of that hundreds, thousands of times. That’s a legacy I never really thought about.”
There it is. Legacy. That’s Santa-speak for “I do it for the kids.”
Now if you have any more questions, I don’t know, go ask your mother. And if you’re my future kids, that homework had better be finished, or I’m telling Santa. And if you’re the angry eight-year-old, kid, I’m telling you:
Santa Claus is real.
How do I know?
Because I shook hands with Bruce Wayne … I mean, Claude O’Donovan.
Sincerely,
Some Guy who doesn’t have kids
(so what does he know?)
Photography by Christine McKeel
