Kansas Snapshots by Gloria Freeland - December 27, 2024

Christmas reunion

Husband Art was born old. When he was about 4, his dad took him to visit Santa at the local Sears store. Watching the various kids sitting on "Santa’s" lap reciting their Christmas wishes, he became convinced "that" wasn't Santa. Why? Because he wasn't writing anything down and couldn't possibly remember all he was told. When his turn arrived, Art noticed that when pseudo-Santa's lips moved, his mustache and beard didn't. He was a fraud!

When Art was about 6, "Santa" arrived in Appleton in a helicopter. Art was impressed. He'd never seen a whirlybird before. Santa? No recollections stuck!

At 7, Art told his parents there was no way Santa could visit every house in his hometown in one night, much less all of them in the world.

With this overly-practical viewpoint, one might think that the holiday season might not mean much to him.

And that would be wrong! He considers Christmas the only real holiday.

As a youngster, he loved going with his uncle to northern Wisconsin to pick up loads of balsam and spruce for his grandfather's Christmas tree business. He fondly recalls when adding pines meant more trips.

Art's mother Donna considered decorating their tree about as much fun as vacuuming or dusting, so she was happy when Art took over. As a teenager, he also decorated the one at his grandparents' home. He even set up a tree for himself in his parents' basement, orchestrating an additional family gift-giving session of his own.

Tinseling the tree was his specialty as others found it tedious. A few days ago, he shared that sometimes after the tree was trimmed, he'd come home from school, plug in the lights, and then just lie beneath it, mesmerized by looking up at the mixture of branches, ornaments, and colored lights reflected in the tinsel streamers.

Tinseling went out of fashion years ago. The disappearance of local tree growers and the dryness of trees trucked in weeks before Christmas prompted him to finally accept our having an artificial tree. However, he insists on arranging the lights.

And no Christmas goes by without Art singing Gene Autry’s 1949 hit:

If it doesn't snow on Christmas,
How is Santa going to get around to us.

This year, 5-month-old granddaughter Diana has been added to the family. Moms Mariya and Miriam wanted her to have the full Christmas experience. So they asked Art if he’d dress up as the Jolly Red Elf if they bought a suit. Last Saturday Art put on the red pants and jacket, cinched the belt, donned the curly white beard and wig and put on the hat. The belly-shaking "Ho-ho-ho"? Those were BOTH natural!

Diana is too young to remember her first Santa. For that matter, she was far more interested in the nearby cat. Still, we had fun taking pictures and sharing them with family and friends across the globe.

We were joined by another even more diminutive family member this year. In the 1970s, Art and his family celebrated a Christmas meal every year with his aunt Ione. She was a buyer for a local store and her specialty was small gifts. With her love of crafting added to the picture, it was no surprise her apartment was overflowing with Christmas decorations.

Most years, recent additions garnered only passing attention, but there was an exception. One year, they arrived to find a small Santa suspended by a spring attached to the dining room light. A sharp bump to his bottom caused him to sing "Jingle Bells," while bouncing up and down.

With the electronics available today, such an item wouldn't be all that fascinating. But it was quite an attention-getter at the time. Every so often, someone passing by did the deed and those assembled would be serenaded. Singing Santa became a staple of the season.

Years passed. Then, sometime in the 1980s, Art saw an identical singing Santa in a Kansas City store. He bought it and it became a fixture in our holiday home. Art has to work a little each year to get his vocal chords loosened up, but then, for the remainder of the season, he patiently waits until someone gives him a crack on the bottom. His voice starts out low and slow and picks up pitch and speed as he rolls through his few verses, and then becomes quiet again until the next passerby gives him a friendly whack.

Alas, 40 years of singing has taken its toll. He stops a little early in the song and the last verse is understandable only to an ear trained to knowing what should come next. And just as with the rest of us, certain wear and tear cannot be undone.

And then it happened. Walking through an antiques mall in 2022, I spotted singing Santa’s sibling. Pointing him out, Art's immediate reaction was that a transplant might bring ours new life.

But, as they say, life got in the way. Last Christmas came and went and donor Santa idled the holiday season and the months that followed in a corner of Art's shop.

Then, a recent lull in his work, combined with another repair, caused the sibling Santa to catch Art's eye. The delay also caused a reassessment. Maybe the sibling was in better shape, and repair efforts might be better spent giving him new life.

Sibling Santa proved to have some life-threatening problems of his own, but they were readily addressed. Unfortunately, the support spring is missing, so until another is found, rubber bands will have to serve. But now, like our original, he sings away, gathering speed and rising pitch as he croons.

Neither Santa will ever replace Bing Crosby's "White Christmas," but that's OK. We feel a bit like the hosts on one of those TV shows where long-lost family members are reunited. We once had an orphaned singing Santa. Now he has family.