The Santa Secret

Well, the bubble finally burst. The other night Eden asks me point blank if Santa is real. After all, she is eight and a half and the magic of the tooth fairy, Easter bunny and all has been fraying just a bit at the edges. This based on various clues: slips of the tongue, intercepted knowing looks and hanging with the big kids. I’m a staunch advocate for the magical childhood and myself a believer in faeries. After all, who was it that said “If you want your children to be intelligent, read them fairy tales. If you want them to be more intelligent, read them more fairy tales." and “"When I examine myself and my methods of thought, I come to the conclusion that the gift of fantasy has meant more to me than any talent for abstract, positive thinking." Oh, yeah, Albert Einstein. Imagination and great thinking seem like the same coin. The more I delve into quantum physics and ponder deeper reality, the firmer my belief in “magic”.

So, here is my bright daughter, who owes so much delight to the concept of the mysterious Santa, questioning his existence. Of course, I’ve seen this coming for a long while. She’s queried before. Sort of. (When it comes right down to it, who would want to spoil something that brings excitement, sweets and playthings into your life?) I usually answer with a question heavy with implication “What do you think?” or “Do you really want to know?”. Hmmm. Serious doubt. What I’ve always added is that there is a secret about Santa, one that she would figure out when she was ready.

Well, I guess she was ready. She’d figured correctly. Basic 2 + 2. But that question: “Is he REAL?” That’s a big one that can lead to some sticky philosophical territory. What makes something real? Funny, my mind strikes simultaneously at both “The Velveteen Rabbit” (being loved makes you real) and “The Quantum Self” (reality is excitations upon the Bose-Einstein condensate ground state of the universe or, to put it another way, “thoughts in the mind of God”. Yow!) Neither love nor thought can be identified by a red suit. Are they real? Is Santa? Is it a question of believing?

This answer I’ve always found to be most satisfactory:
”Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if you did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.” From the Editorial Page of The New York Sun, "Yes, Virginia, There Is A Santa Claus" written by Francis P. Church, September 21, 1897.

So, we didn’t do in Santa the other night. We spared his life. He will continue to bring us treats and delights because he embodies that impulse in us to share, gift and surprise. We believe in those things, so he still exists for us. But now Eden gets to enjoy a whole new aspect of an old beloved. (And she got to enjoy a bit of Santa's leftover stocking stash last night. Just another perk of being in on it.)

Picture: Vintage Santa from an old postcard looking very Caucasian. I envision my Santa tromping through a snowy woodland, dark-eyed and luminous, gentle-spirited and kin to animals. Like a combo of a Green Man, St. Francis and a veiled Helios (riding his chariot across the sky). I like this Nick. He's in green, holds an evergreen tree embellished with candles and a five-pointed star and a curious tell tale heart-shaped package dangles from his hand like a Valentine.