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Posted November 10, 2009
I am a huge fan of Santa Claus. In fact, I still believe in Santa, and in my mind - at least sometimes - I believe we work for the Jolly Old Elf.
In 6th grade I played Santa Claus in the class play. I was pretty good. I have a good 'Ho Ho Ho.'
My father made a big deal of Santa’s arrival each year, with footprints in the fireplace ashes, and even ashy footprints on the carpet in front of the fireplace. Milk half drunk, cookies eaten - pure scientific evidence. Proof positive that Santa existed and had been in my house that night.
When I was a bit older, and living on the first floor of a 4-flat, I lay in bed near to sleep one Christmas Eve and I thought I heard tiny hoofsteps on my roof, 3 floors above. Hmmmm . . . I know, pretty weird, but this Santa thing was deeply ingrained in me.
Today I argue with my own kids that Santa does really exist, and in a way, we make it so. It is a wonderful fantasy, and I hope you won’t think ill of me that I cleave to it so. I am, afterall, a toymaker, which is kind of like being a part of the North Pole milieu.
So, being in the toy business and having a Santa fixation of some sort, I had for some years been thinking that I would love to play Santa and give out toys, somewhere, for someone, but who, how, where? To Be Continued . . .
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