Published December 25, 2004
Independent Newspaper Group
Ken White
A Christmas Carol, "A Miracle on 34th Street," and Charlie Brown's annual special aside, most families develop their own holiday classics. Here's one of our personal favorites, back to the days now long ago when our daughter struggled to keep sleepy eyes open in hopes of catching a glimpse of Santa himself.
It was mid-December, late at night. I heard the distinctive plodding of my daughter's feet running across the floor. We met as she was returning to her room from checking to see if, perhaps, Santa had dropped off any early packages under the tree.
Hannah's always been a "holiday person." Actually, she an "occasion person." Whatever the occasion - from Christmas to the night before roadwork scheduled on the street - her enthusiasm for whatever is about to happen typically gives her, and as result me and her mom, less than a perfect night's sleep. And as a family with both Christmas and Chanukah on the plate, our child (who once described herself as half-star, half-cross) is pretty excitable for much of the winter. Long ago, I learned that after such a midnight wake-up, it's best to just go with the flow.
"Daddy, will you snuggle?" is the invitation Hannah knows I can't refuse. But once we're warm and cuddled, it's inevitably "Daddy, can we chat?" This night's topic: Santa, the reindeer, and how that whole worldwide-present-delivery thing works. Joining us for the conversation, Lilly the cat sat on the pillow between our heads, purring her outboard motor purr. Kind of a "pdtrtrtrrrr."
It was early, I was tired, I didn't take notes, and it was years' back. Knowing Hannah will deny this when she reads the paper, this is how I remember the conversation.
"Dad, I have a question," which is how it always begins. "Dad, how does Santa get everywhere in one night?" I sleepily mutter something about magic. "Pdtrtrtrrrr," adds Lilly.
"But Dad, whose magic? Santa's or the reindeers', or is it the sled?" Okay, now I'm awake, not wanting to blow this chance: there's great value in holding onto a belief in a magic goodness that, if not an ever present resident, is at least a regular visitor to the world.
Careful, knowing Hannah well enough to be aware that she's as likely working on a theory as seeking information, I respond with that special brand of fatherly wisdom. In other words, I cop out: What do you think, Hannah? "I think it's the reindeer, Dad. The animals are always the ones with the magic."
Lilly purrs a longer louder "pdtrtrtrtrtrrrrrr," and the other animals begin to climb up in bed with us, aware that this is where the action is. They may have the magic, but our pack's not using it to help us get back to sleep. I tell Hannah that she's probably right, that it's the reindeer who carry the sleigh and the jolly fat guy through the dark sky at a speed that brings them to every child's home in a single night. Let's go to sleep now Hannah.
Relative quiet. A soothing "pdtrtrtrrrr". Hope for a couple of hours before dawn. But then I hear a fresh "Dad, I have a question." Oh, no.
"Dad, to you think the reindeer get enough rest? I mean, maybe, the humane society should try to get Christmas spread out, so they don't have to get everywhere in one night. Or maybe Santa could use a jet." You know, Chanukah is really a much simpler holiday.
Ken White is president of the Peninsula Humane Society & SPCA,
the largest animal welfare and protection charitable
organization in San Mateo County. You can help them help
the animals this holiday season by adopting, volunteering,
or making a tax-deductible gift.
