In Search of Santa

I was at Trader Joe’s last week reaching for my favorite balsamic vinegar when I heard a child crying. It didn’t sound like a tantrum for candy. It sounded serious. I turned and there he was, right behind me, hunched over with his head buried deep into his mother’s belly.

As she stroked his head, I heard her ask, “So he looked fake to you?”

The boy picked up his head and for the first time, I saw his face.  He couldn’t have been more than 7 years old. Huge tears rolled down his red-blotched cheeks and as he opened his mouth to speak, his whole body began to shake. He started sobbing all over again and burrowed deeper into the folds of his mom’s sweater.

I knew this was none of my business and thought I should give them privacy. As I turned away, I heard his mom say coldly, “Yeah. I remember when I learned there was no Santa.”

From behind me I heard his tears and felt my own swell up in my eyes. I knew I’d just witnessed a profound moment in that child’s life: the moment when he had lost the magic of Santa…the moment when a truth he’d been told by his parents was exposed as a lie…the moment that would forever change how he viewed the holiday season and launch an all-too-common process where he, like millions of other children, would begin to question other things he’d been told by grown-ups and wonder, “Who can I trust?”

I found myself getting angry at his mom for how she’d handled his discovery. I wished she had been gentler and couldn’t help but wonder if she’d done to him what had been done to her. So I decided to ask a few of my girlfriends to tell me about the day when their children had learned about Santa. I got a range of responses from a wistful, “They found out in school. The older kids told them and they had already suspected it” to a joyful “Wait – There’s no Santa?!”

My favorite answer was given to me by my friend, Lisa who shared a profoundly moving story. Lisa works with children and every year she used to help them prepare for the holidays by getting them all excited about getting ready for Santa’s arrival. One year, 2 of her kids who weren’t as privileged as the others came back from their holiday break and told her, “We waited all night long but Santa never came.” Lisa felt horrible, knowing that she had set these children up for disappointment by building unrealistic expectations. As she told me her story, I could feel the pain she felt thinking about those kids.

So, what are we to do? Should we stop encouraging our children to dream? Should we squash their imaginations and correct their fantasies? Should we help them be more “realistic” so as to protect them from disappointment? And if we do all of that, what harm will we cause them later, when they need their creativity, imagination, optimism and hope to succeed in life and to build a better world for future generations?

I think the answer is simple. the more we can encourage children to dream and hope, to see the possibilities and explore their creativity, the more we will build a world that is filled with greatness.

But what about Santa? What do we do about the jolly man who is here to remind us about the spirit of giving, kindness and joy. What do we do about the bearded guy who encourages us to be playful and hopeful, to hold onto our dreams and keep on saying “Ho-Ho-Ho” – especially when times are tough.

Is he real? Does Santa really exist? Well, here’s my take:

Until someone can show me hardcore proof that there is no Santa, then I’m going to keep on believing what my mom told me over half a century ago. My mom told me to dream and believe – to be creative and hopeful and above all, to keep on giving.  She told me to believe in Santa and every year there were gifts whose tags read, “From Santa with love.” And by the way – we are Jewish. But clearly my mom felt that Santa’s message was important enough for me to learn it. And that has always served me well – in my life as well as in my business.

So if you’ll excuse me…I have to go now to prepare the cookies and milk.

Happy holidays everyone!

Wendy

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