I cried when my parents told me there was no Santa Claus. It started out as a sniffle, and then all of a sudden tears trickled down my cheeks to fill the empty void in my heart. No Santa Claus? How was that possible? He ate the cookies and drank the milk, put the perfect gifts under the tree, and even left me a little note thanking me for the sweets. Although I refused to believe them at first, in the years that followed, I, too, thought of Santa as merely a cute story for the kids. Bah, baby stuff. I thought it was entirely childish, up until now.
When my parents told me there was no man named Santa Claus, they were right. There is no way, logically speaking, that a single man can fly around the entire world in a sleigh drawn by reindeer and enter every household to deliver presents; some of them are bound to have locks. Someone also (who had lots of time on their hands) mathematically proved that if Santa and his flying species of reindeer were to personally deliver gifts to each household, all 91.8 million of them, his sleigh would have to move at 3,000 times the speed of sound. It may not be that fast in your opinion, but to the 250 pound Santa (thanks for the cookies and milk, kids!) and his reindeer, that rate would be enough to make them all vaporize and combust within 4.26 thousandths of a second. Perhaps that’s why there have been very few eyewitness accounts of seeing Santa Claus. I really do hope that red suit is fire proof.
If Santa Claus truly did combust and create a small sonic boom every Christmas Eve before his rounds even began, how can we account for all of the holiday miracles we experience in our everyday lives? No, I’m not talking about winning the lottery and not having to pay a single cent in taxes (although that would be nice). I’m thinking of simple things: The postponement of an AP Biology test, the availability of napkins in the cafeteria, not getting eaten alive by the Spanish teacher after explaining that a dog really did eat homework, being able to make someone smile by retelling a stupid-funny SNL skit. These types of things don’t just happen on their own. There must be some supernatural, crop-circle-y explanation for this. We generally aren’t given breaks like this, but around the holidays, free passes like these seemed to be doled out and spread around generously like germs on a door handle. Everyone seems to be in a cheery mood (unless your last name starts with an “S” and ends with a “rooge”) around this time of year. It could be because of KOST’s long set of commercial free holiday favorites, but let’s be realistic: it must be because of the magic of Santa.
We’ve always thought of Santa Claus as a jolly, rotund man in a too-tight red suit with a fluffy white beard. Quite frankly, plenty of people look like that. Many of them hang around malls during the holidays. Santa-wannabes aside, have you ever wondered why Santa was always depicted as exceedingly plump? It’s not because of Mrs. Claus’ cooking, though I heard that every morsel of her meals were delicious and delectable and that every year the elves go nuts over the feast. It’s because Santa is not one person, but a collection of souls who in turn carry out the Christmas spirit. When I was younger, I failed to recognize that Santa was not a single person, oh ho ho no, he needed a break once in a while in order to keep from combusting, and in doing so passed on the job of miracle-working to others around the world.
Thant being said, I truly think it’s time for a new generation of Santas. I think it’s time to make some miracles happen. It’s not necessary to buy a red suit and fake beard and call up “Rent-a-Reindeer,” although those would all be nice touches. Nothing extra is required to meet Santa Standards, for each and every person’s inner-Santa can be brought out through singing “Frosty the Snowman.” Sing that song once, and I promise you that you’ll be filling napkin dispensers and training dogs to eat homework for the rest of your lives all to keep that Christmas spirit alive.
When my parents told me there was no man named Santa Claus, they were right. There is no way, logically speaking, that a single man can fly around the entire world in a sleigh drawn by reindeer and enter every household to deliver presents; some of them are bound to have locks. Someone also (who had lots of time on their hands) mathematically proved that if Santa and his flying species of reindeer were to personally deliver gifts to each household, all 91.8 million of them, his sleigh would have to move at 3,000 times the speed of sound. It may not be that fast in your opinion, but to the 250 pound Santa (thanks for the cookies and milk, kids!) and his reindeer, that rate would be enough to make them all vaporize and combust within 4.26 thousandths of a second. Perhaps that’s why there have been very few eyewitness accounts of seeing Santa Claus. I really do hope that red suit is fire proof.
If Santa Claus truly did combust and create a small sonic boom every Christmas Eve before his rounds even began, how can we account for all of the holiday miracles we experience in our everyday lives? No, I’m not talking about winning the lottery and not having to pay a single cent in taxes (although that would be nice). I’m thinking of simple things: The postponement of an AP Biology test, the availability of napkins in the cafeteria, not getting eaten alive by the Spanish teacher after explaining that a dog really did eat homework, being able to make someone smile by retelling a stupid-funny SNL skit. These types of things don’t just happen on their own. There must be some supernatural, crop-circle-y explanation for this. We generally aren’t given breaks like this, but around the holidays, free passes like these seemed to be doled out and spread around generously like germs on a door handle. Everyone seems to be in a cheery mood (unless your last name starts with an “S” and ends with a “rooge”) around this time of year. It could be because of KOST’s long set of commercial free holiday favorites, but let’s be realistic: it must be because of the magic of Santa.
We’ve always thought of Santa Claus as a jolly, rotund man in a too-tight red suit with a fluffy white beard. Quite frankly, plenty of people look like that. Many of them hang around malls during the holidays. Santa-wannabes aside, have you ever wondered why Santa was always depicted as exceedingly plump? It’s not because of Mrs. Claus’ cooking, though I heard that every morsel of her meals were delicious and delectable and that every year the elves go nuts over the feast. It’s because Santa is not one person, but a collection of souls who in turn carry out the Christmas spirit. When I was younger, I failed to recognize that Santa was not a single person, oh ho ho no, he needed a break once in a while in order to keep from combusting, and in doing so passed on the job of miracle-working to others around the world.
Thant being said, I truly think it’s time for a new generation of Santas. I think it’s time to make some miracles happen. It’s not necessary to buy a red suit and fake beard and call up “Rent-a-Reindeer,” although those would all be nice touches. Nothing extra is required to meet Santa Standards, for each and every person’s inner-Santa can be brought out through singing “Frosty the Snowman.” Sing that song once, and I promise you that you’ll be filling napkin dispensers and training dogs to eat homework for the rest of your lives all to keep that Christmas spirit alive.