Thursday, August 17, 2017

Chapter 22 - Santa

"We gotta go Cap, we got to be in the first classroom at 8 AM" Chris says.

I am staring down at the well-worn wig and beard in my lap.  I am sure the last Santa did not bother to check the inside of the wig and beard before he had to wear it either.   The inside of the wig looks like a inside of a white ball cap that was worn by a construction worker on a hot, humid day for a month straight.

"What?" Chris is looking at me look down at the beard and wig.

"Nobody checks the Santa suit?" I said extending the inside of the wig for him to see. 

"I am guessing that would be Santa himself" Chris said and he cannot hide the grin on his face.  He looks like he is going to bust out laughing at any minute.  

I hate it when it is right about stuff like this.  I don't know how I am going to make it through the next couple of hours.  We are due at the school in 30 minutes and there is no way to do anything about Santa's hair or beard.  They are still in my lap and my head is already itchy and I want to take a shower. I am climb into the officer's seat in the engine for the short ride to the school.

"Put your beard and wig on Santa, you are going to wreck a kid's Christmas if he thinks Santa is really the brown maintenance man at the school" Chris says smiling.

I wish what he said wasn't so funny, I don't want to smile right now.  I start to put the wig and beard on, adjusting them on my face and head.  I can't seem to keep the white synthetic hair out of my mouth and nose.  I am guessing that last year's Santa, had a problem sweating and had an affinity for cigars and red onions.  My head is already starting to itch, and the red velvet pants are riding up high.  I have a wedgie I have already given up on fixing.   

When they asked Station 3 for a Santa visit, I brought it up during dinner.  When I asked for a Santa volunteer, the very same men who routinely put themselves in harm's way for complete strangers were silent.   

"Really?  No one?  I will do it then" How hard could this Santa thing be?

I am getting out of the Engine at the school, slip on a patch of ice I cannot see and break my fall onto the running boards with the bag of candy canes.

"Son of a ..."

"Santa!, look at the kids on the playground waving at you" Chris says.

There is a line of young smiling faces on the playground, and they all are waving at me.  The principle walks out to meet us and thanks us for doing Santa this year.   She gives us a quick rundown of the 4 classrooms we will be visiting.  Chris and Gary are my handlers.  Cathy the 1st grade teacher sticks her head outside to make sure we are there and gives a quick wave to come on in.

Gary starts to shake the sleigh bells and you can hear the parents inside wondering in loud voices "Who is THAT?"

"MERRY CHRISTMAS" I say in my best deep voice and wave to everyone in the room.   All of the kids in the room retreat to the safety of parents and parent helpers.   All of the adults in the room have a couple of kids hugging their legs and burying their heads, taking an occasional peek at me

All of the parents are telling the kids "Look, SANTA is here!" and are trying to coax them into looking.

There is a chair in the far side of the room that is set up for me and my handlers.  I tell the kids I have heard that they have ALL been good this year and I want them to come up and tell me what they want.  Half of the kids nod slowly, yes.  There is also at least half of the class that are shaking their heads with a emphatic no.  They do not want to tell me and are comfortable rolling the dice this year.  

A line forms and the kids who want to see me are coming up to spend a quick minute with me.  All of them are speaking in barely audible whispers and I cannot make out what is being said.  There is absolutely no eye contact, and they are looking at my boots or looking up at a far corner of the room.

No one leaves empty handed, the kids that have spent that painful moment with me, the kids that have spent the last 30 minutes with their heads buried in pant legs and skirts. all get candy canes.  Parents and teachers get the peppermint sprinkles that were candy canes before I fell.

When its clear Santa is leaving the room, the entire rooms jumps to life.  Even the kids who barely peeked at me from behind the shelter of parents are waving goodbye with loud "Bye Santa!"

First grade is done, and we are off the second-grade classroom.  The difference is night and day.  When the sleigh bells announce my arrive the kids come immediate over to me and are trying to hold my hand or hug my leg.  These kids just melt your heart, they want to look at you, study you, they are the true believers.   They are very specific on what they want for Christmas.

Video games, bikes, IPODS, phones and everything in between.  I always raise an eyebrow to one on my handlers when I hear IPOD or phone.  I tell everyone the same thing - that they can all expect a surprise on Christmas morning.   We are almost through the entire class, and I am already looking forward to lunch.  We will eat lunch with the kids in the cafeteria.  I am already wondering how I can manage a school lunch through this nasty beard.  I am starved.

One of the last kids I talked to was a black-haired young girl with the biggest brown eyes.  She is standing in front of me, and she seems to be sizing me up.  

"What do you want for Christmas?" I ask.

"My dad is sick" she says and looks directly at me.  

The teacher is sitting across from me and ever so slightly nods here head.  The young girls' eyes brim with tears and she says she just wants him to get better.  Again, a slight shake of the head from the teacher and I know her dad is not going to get better.  Every adult in the room that has heard this exchange is wiping their eyes and not letting the rest of the kids see that.  As a kid in my Santa years, I never thought there was anything that Santa could not do.  My heart aches for this kid that I just met.

There are things Santa can't bring, and a ton of things Santa cannot do.

I hug her long and hard and I tell her that her dad loves her a lot and that all of us are praying for him to get better.  I cannot think of anything else to say that makes any kind of sense.  

I feel so ridiculous and shallow for complaining about the wig and beard now.  I did not anticipate a kid asking for anything like this.  For the guy that always expects the best and prepares for the worse, I did not see this coming.  I did not think Santa had to prepare for the worst, he only had to prepare for the best.

I am feeling very humble for everything and all the people I have in my life.  My biggest worry was wearing a nasty beard and wig.  I do not have to deal with anyone in my inner circle being sick.    

In the second classroom, a stocky kid in jeans and a white shirt jumps right to the front of the Santa line.

"What do you want for Christmas?" I ask him while I am reaching for a unbroken candy cane in the bag in front of me.

"My dad is in IRAQ and I am scared" He is wide eyed in a way that a kid his age should never be.  My heart feels like it has been kicked out of my chest for the second time today.  My heart aches for this kid too.  

There are a LOT of things Santa can't bring and a ton of things Santa cannot do.

I hug him and tell him his dad loves him a lot and that we are all praying for him.  For the second time in a short 30 minutes, the words that I want to find to give him momentary comfort do not come.   Santa's helpers are as taken back as I am.  None of us had quite the words we wanted for these kids.  I would have happily endured hours in that Santa suit if it would have taken a minute of worry from either one of those kids.  

I volunteered to be Santa without complain for years after that, hoping to make up some ground for things I was not able to say that day.

As firefighters there are calls and people that stay with you for indeterminate periods of time.  Both of these kids have stayed with me to this day.  Those two beautiful kids that day still remind me where my place in the universe is.

This was a common theme throughout my career, every time I showed up expecting to be a hero, I found one instead.

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