Dear Santa: Drop Dead

I don’t know how old I was when my parents ‘fessed up and told me that there was no Santa Claus, but I do remember my response:  “I know.”  Eventually, any astute kid can piece the clues together, tipped off by things like the disparity between sometimes creepy mall Santas with their bad breath and disappointing fake beards, as well as the dawning realization that it’s totally implausible that anyone could physically deliver presents to the entire world on the same night.

I was reminded of that cynicism-inducing realization recently when 11-year-old Anisa announced that she’s too grown up to want to see Disney movies anymore, and she’s also  just so over this Santa Claus thing – but not over the getting presents part.

Her newfound sophistication is bittersweet, representing a necessary and expected maturity, but it also represents the passing of childhood innocence. What concerns me is whether the exposure of this whole Santa Claus story as a ridiculous fraud causes her, and children everywhere, to be less trusting of the parents and family members who perpetrate the fraud year after year – and, therefore, make children less likely to believe other things that parents teach?

Childlike faith is a precious thing, something that Jesus said is necessary to enter the kingdom of heaven.  But the Santa myth manipulates that child-like faith.  And that’s why I would like Santa to trudge away off into the frozen tundra never to be heard from again.

Some people might think that makes me a Grinch, but let me explain.

As a Christian, I’m a huge fan of the real message of Christmas, which definitely has to do with a gift –but it’s the gift of God’s Son.  Now that we’ve got this Santa thing going on, we’ve almost totally forgotten about the real meaning of Christmas.

The Santa myth perverts the purity of the real message, encourages out-of-control consumerism, and manipulates the willingness of children to believe what their parents tell them.  Think about it.  Those of us who are Christians tell our children that they are not the mere product of slime that suddenly appeared out of nowhere and then formed into a randomly produced life form that will live an ultimately meaningless life and then die, disappearing forever.  Instead, we tell them that they are a unique creation of a powerful and all-knowing God, who designed them in all of their miraculous complexity and that this all-knowing God wants to redeem their eternal soul through the gift of His Son, forgive their wrongdoing, empower them to live right and love others, and form a relationship with them that will last eternally.

At the same time, we tell them that there’s this jolly gift-giver who “sees you when you’re sleeping.  He knows when you’re awake.  He knows if you’ve been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake.” He’s a god-like figure but without the capacity to offer forgiveness because, if you blow it, you just get coal in your stocking, or more than likely, you’ll just get the threat of coal in your stocking (because I’m glad that I’ve never heard of a parent who actually did that.)

We tell them that this god-like Santa guy demands that they “be good” or else they won’t get any presents, when the Biblical way is the opposite – we receive the present of God’s Son and the free gift of salvation, which then empowers us through God’s spirit to do good out of love, gratefulness and a pure heart.

When the Santa fraud is exposed, what kid wouldn’t think that the God story, with a similar all-knowing character, wasn’t also fraudulent?  In fact, I’m convinced that some militant atheists, at their core, are just grown-up versions of disillusioned, heartbroken children who want to prove that they will never be gullible again.  They’re now way too sophisticated to believe in that Santa Claus/God stuff.  The result is the pathetic situation of someone like Christopher Hitchens, who is dying of cancer but too proud to even entertain the possibility that there might be a God because of the fear of believing in something or someone that could be a sham.

Personally, when my kids were growing up, I never told them that there was a Santa. I wanted my kids to know that I was trustworthy, so I never thought it was fun to deceive them with the Santa myth or any other lie. Instead, I would say things like, “Isn’t it fun to pretend that there’s a Santa?” and then I’d do the whole leaving-cookies-out-for-Santa and presents-under-the-tree thing, but only after I had already made it clear that it was just pretend.

 I enjoyed the annual ritual of my nephew dressing up as Santa and distributing presents to little children who are enthralled by the mystery of it all and who just know that it’s fun getting presents.  But, for me, that’s as far as it goes.  I’m not going to tell my children that this Santa guy in the weird, red suit is some all-knowing figure with the supernatural power to bring them presents if they’re “good.”

Apparently, the Santa Claus myth has its roots in the behavior of St. Nicholas centuries ago.   Maybe it’s my jaded, modern persona, but personally, I’m suspicious of old dudes who habitually give gifts to non-related children. At the very least, such activity merits an investigation of motives. What did they have to do to be “good”? And that living with elves story?  Pretty weird.

Wikipedia states that Santa Claus could be the result of Christians superimposing the story of a kind-hearted bishop upon a framework of Germanic paganism or vice versa. “According to Phyllis Siefker, children would place their boots, filled with carrots, straw or sugar, near the chimney for Odin’s flying horse, Sleipnir, to eat. Odin would then reward those children for their kindness by replacing Steipnir’s food with gifts or candy.”  Fast forward to 2010 and, instead, you have kids ripping open packages that leave them asking, “Is that it?” while their parents are left with a staggering credit card bill during tough economic times.

All I know is that the real St. Nick, if he existed at all, dropped dead centuries ago. And IMHO, it’s about time for the diabolical Santa myth to drop dead as well.

Merry Christmas.

Stevie Ray Vaughan-Inspired Ruben V Gets it Done

Ruben V was a musician in a Judas Priest-wannabe band when the music of blues artists like Stevie Ray Vaughan spoke to him.  “In Texas during the 80s, it was all about metal,” he told me recently at Doctor Rockit’s Blues Bar in Corpus Christi.   “But when I heard artists like Robert Cray and Stevie Ray Vaughan, I knew that was what I wanted to play.  I wanted to bend a string like that.”

And learn to bend a string he did.   I can attest to that fact because I paid a $7 cover change to hear him two other band members play a few sets in front of a small crowd in Corpus Christi, Texas, where he went after Thanksgiving to “wear off some turkey.”

And he was amazing.  It takes guts to cover people like Santana and Hendrix, but Ruben pulled it off with aplomb and got the crowd dancing with his original music, which also grooves.

Check out some of his music here. 

We bought a CD and asked Ruben to sign it so he came over and talked to us for a while, in the same way that he stopped and talked to most of the people in the small crowd at Doctor Rockits.

He told us that Stevie Ray used to play at the same place “and there would be less than 100, maybe 50 people in here.”  But after Vaughan died, his popularity sky-rocketed. “I was working in a record store at the time,” Ruben said, “and we had maybe 20 Stevie Ray Vaughan disks but there was such a demand, that people were lined up out the door.”

Suddenly, the injustice of it all inflamed him. 

“I jumped up on the counter and started yelling at people, ‘You know what, people, you all suck!  When Stevie was alive, you didn’t support him, but now that he’s dead, here you are’.”

Needless to say, the record store fired him, but he landed on his feet.  He now opens for acts like Robert Cray, playing Latin-influenced music and Texas-style blues, and he’s well known in his hometown of San Antonio, where the city awarded the title of “Best Guitar Player,” as well as “Best Songwriter” and “Best Blues Band” – but he’s still working hard to make a name for himself nationally, and at 44, he’s not exactly a young turk.

Nevertheless, he’s an immensely talented working musician who seems to have his head on straight, playing music that he loves.  And I love that he had the guts to vent his passion, even though he now sees things a little differently.  “People get upset when I say this, but one good thing that came out of Stevie Ray’s death is that, now, people know who he is.  Everybody knows Stevie Ray Vaughan.”

I don’t know if I’d go that far, but I think that I know what he means. 

I hope that Ruben lives a long and happy life, but if his popularity soars after he dies, I’ll be the first one jumping up on the record store counter, or whatever counter exists, yelling passionately that, “You know what, people, you all suck!”

Me, surrounded by three cool men: brother-in-law Richard, Ruben V and my hubby, Vince.