Santa Drives A Fiat...

The other day - a lovely Saturday with sunshine and nothing much that had to be done - my family was in the car, in search of lunch options.  At a stop light, I looked to the left and saw none other than Santa Claus driving next to us.  If the beard and the twinkle in the eye didn’t give it away, he was wearing a festive vest and a ballcap embroidered with the word “Santa”.  I pointed him out to my girls, who smiled and waved, and Santa smiled and waved right back.

It was no surprise to me that we’d see Santa in the Atlanta suburbs.  We were near the mall, after all, and there’s a list of names to supply.  I have to admit that it was a *bit* of a surprise to see that Santa drove a sporty Fiat. But then, I thought, “why not?”  Santa can drive a Fiat.  And a Jeep.  And an old Ford truck.  And a VW bus. 

I know there are many who roll their eyes at the idea of Santa.  Neighborhood kids are quick to correct me when I mention him because they don’t believe he exists.  Poor kids.  They’ve got holes in their lives that could so easily be repaired with a little belief.  My kids, thank goodness, not only believe, but they KNOW Santa personally.  In fact, they know a few of them!  So it’s not such a stretch for them to accept that he’d drive a fancy sportscar on his day off.

Shortly after I got married, I needed a haircut and walked into a local salon.  While there, I noticed a line of men who looked suspiciously like Santa Claus with foil in their beards, sitting under the hairdryers.  The stylist working on my mop told me that the owner of the salon was well known for specializing in Santa makeovers and jolly elves came from all over the southeast to get her treatment.  While marveling at the transformation, I noticed one Santa who looked really familiar.  I thought “Of course, he’s familiar, he’s Santa” but then that Santa held up the magazine he was reading so I could see the name on the address label.  It still took me a minute to process, and then I realized I WAS seeing someone I knew, my friend Frosty (yes, that’s the name by which we know him), a presence in the Blues community.  He was Santa!  Wow.

This meant my kids would have their very own Santa!  And they did.  No matter which venue he may have been visiting, we went to see our Santa.  Remember, Santa is our friend, so my kids were able to see him year round.  Even in the middle of summer, if Santa Frosty thought he might see our kids, he was prepared with a gift for them.  At one blues festival, he presented Josie with a big round pillow that looked like a globe.  She said to me “Look, Mom, Santa gave me the world!”

Perhaps it’s the nature of the blues crowd that there are a lot of white-haired bearded men in the midst, but over the years, we’ve known several men who happened to be professional Santas.   Atlanta, in particular, is a hub for many!  My mother, being a skilled seamstress was tapped by a few of them for repairs to their suits.  And our Santa Frosty recruited her to play his Mrs. Claus.  So my kids not only have their own personal Santa, but their Grandma is Mrs. Claus!

I’ve long been a Santaphile (is that a word?  It should be).  I’ve read everything about the man’s history, the legends, the origins.  I know as much about Santa as a nerd knows about Darth Vader.  And these Santas and Mrs. Claus types that I know spend a lot of time at workshops, training to be the best they can be.  Santa bootcamp!

When we were kids, someone always took a turn being an elf on Christmas eve.  Whichever kid fit the suit would disappear, we’d wonder out loud about where they went, and then an elf would knock on the door and would come in to pass out presents.

Now, I was a smart kid with lots of older siblings. I knew it was my brother in the suit and I knew that gifts were purchased by my mother.  That’s not the point.  The elf was real.  Santa is real.

Kids will obviously have questions, and the older they get, the more outside influence they have to raise *new* questions.  I’ve explained that “Santa” is not so much a person as it is a title that has to be earned.  Like a General, an Ambassador, even a Principal.  One can’t just wake up one day and decide to be Santa.  Santa is the embodiment of love, joy, peace, and kindness.  Santa is real.

My ten year old realized some time ago (probably with the help of blabbermouth friends) that maybe Santa didn’t bring presents and wanted an explanation.  So I told her what I know in my heart to be true:  I believe in Santa.  I believe in his Magic and I believe that he lives.  Maybe not at the North Pole, but I’ve never been to the North Pole to see with my own eyes, so I can’t be sure.  I’ve also never been to China but I trust that there’s a great wall there.  Likewise, I trust in Santa.  I trust in the joy and spirit of Santa.  As for the presents, I explained that there are a lot of children in the world and, even with Magic, there’s no way Santa could do it all, so he relies on parents to help him.  As little children begin to question, Santa calls on parents to step in.  That seemed to be a good enough explanation for her and she promised to not lift the veil for her little sister.

Knowing what she knows, did that change the way she viewed the man in the Fiat?  Did it change the joy in her heart when she sees our friend Frosty and he gives her a hug?  I don’t think so.  Because, despite what she may know about logistics, she knows in her heart that Santa is real.

And maybe he drives a Fiat.  Or a Ford truck.  Or a VW bus.