Santa used to be on radar!

Life was not all bad back in the long ago days of raising children.  The one part I took advantage of was when they finally got Santa on radar.  The kids were always excited on Christmas Eve because they knew all they had to do was go to sleep and Santa would pop in and leave them presents.  Now I kind of resented the fact that I had busted my ass to buy presents and some fat fart was getting all the credit.  So I devised a way to actually turn the table so I could get a little credit for myself.

When the weather man would come on and show the tiny Santa and his tinier reindeer, they were inevitably clear up in Montana or somewhere just as distant.  I would carefully explain to the kids that they should go ahead and go to bed and I would keep watch and if they happened to notice I was gone it was probably because I had made arrangements to meet him in Nebraska or some where because no way in hell was I going to not let them have Christmas and there would be presents under the tree from that rascal or by God I would know the reason why.  So they went to bed and slept the sleep of children who could always depend on mother.

Now in all likely hood, had they awoken and gone to check under the tree and found me missing, I was probably at the bar just down the street for a quick beer or at the liquor store at the other corner replenishing my "will to live."  But either way, there was always a pile under the tree for each of them and I had the satisfaction of knowing there were 5 little kids who loved me and were grateful that I had stayed up all night to make sure Santa came through for them!  I was a damn good liar back in those days, but now I am not so good at it.

But then I really don't need to do it any more!  I may stay up tomorrow night just to see where Santa is and relive the days when a hairy old man in a red suit was something I really wanted to see.  I have my brother Jake to thank for ripping my belief in Santa to shreds.  I in turn twisted the knife in my sister Donna, she in Mary, and when the veil fell from the eyes of Dorothy our childhood was over and we transitioned into a family who celebrated Christmas for the birth of the Christ Child.

Everyone except my father, who was an atheist.

But what about the rest of us?

I see people dashing about in the stores with thier carts loaded with gifts.  Christmas music is blaring over the intercom and seems to spur them into a fever of shopping.  I continue to the fabric section because I need 2 yards of blue gingham for an order.  Nothing else.  The lady at the measuring table folds the 2 yards and lays the ticket on top of it.  As she pushes it towards me she smiles brightly and says "Merry Christmas" or "Happy Holidays " or some such nonsense.  "Thanks", I mutter, ;not bothering to return the greeting.  I am glad she is in the holiday spirit.  I almost wished I could be.  But I am not and there is very little chance I will get into it.

Don't get me wrong on the Christmas thing.  I love Christmas.  I love the baby Jesus and the wise men and all that.  What I don't love is the commercialism that has taken it from a religious  holiday to a shopping frenzy and Santa Claus trying to out do each other.  I like to feed the hungry and clothe the naked and put a roof over everyone's head.  But I am not going shopping.  I am not buying presents.  Just not buying into the whole thing.

Several years back I gave away all my Christmas decorations.  All the outside lights went also.  And along with the trinkets and baubles went any  appearance of adhereing to the Christmas season frivolities.  Now don't get me wrong.  I celebrate Christmas, but I do it at church and it is for the birth of Jesus and all the symbolism asscoiated with that.  I do not buy presents and I do not want presents bought for me.  For most of my adult life I bought for a Christmas list that was 45 people long and I enjoyed doing it.  Then one year I looked around and I did not know who had given me what, nor did I remember what I gave anyone else.  Consquently it was the same year my husband died.  I made the turkey and the ham just like years before, but it was not the same.

I may have just lived long enough and seen enough to become jaded, but it is what it is.  I can not judge those who continue to fight the crowds nor do I want to.  By the same token, I do not want you to judge me.    I like to be alone, not that I am anti social, I just  like solitude.  Christmas seems to bring all my sad thoughts to the front and every year it gets harder and harder to cope with the holiday season.  Do I remember a time when I really enjoyed Christmas?  Not really.  I suppose when the kids were little and I could surprise them with Santa Claus things, I was happy.  But even then I remember how hard I had to work to do that.  I guess life has just never came easy for me in that aspect.

So Christmas will come in 4 days.  But before Christmas comes, I have an anniversary.  Kenny and I would have celebrated  34 years together on December 23.  So there you go.  Another thing I can do alone.

Ah, the innocence of youth, or Santa Claus is coming to town.

Do you remember the innocence of youth?  I mean your youth?  Remember when the world was fresh and new and every discovery was a miracle like a flower opening before you.?  Growing up was fun and each day taught us something new.  I think I was probably in the third or Fourth grade when I discovered there was a world outside of Nickerson, Kansas.  Back then life was dirt roads, playing in the creek and waiting for Momma to get home and feed us.  There was no television to watch at our house.  The radio was for listening to the stock market report so dad would know how much the wheat would bring.  At some point in time I recall the President of the United States talking to us in what was known as "a fireside chat."  That was fun and we always set around the pot bellied stove and listened.  Made it seem like we were right there with him.  And we always slept better after he reassured us that the nation was in good shape and better days were coming.  Seems he promised us a chicken in every pot, or something like that.
It seems in my mind that I can remember Roosevelt talking.  I also clearly remember hearing the words "The war is over!"  I can clearly see us setting around the radio in the last home we owned in Nickerson.  I know looking back, that this is not the case.  Roosevelt gave his last fireside chat in 1944.  I would have been 3 years old.  World War II ended in 1945 when I would have been 4 years old.  We did not leave the Ailmore place until I was in 2nd or 3rd grade.  So I think we no doubt listened to Roosevelt while on the Ailmore place and I transferred that in my little brain to the house we owned.  When I heard the war ended we had to be the same place.  The memories are there, just not quite like they really happened.  Or maybe I heard a re-enactment and took it as a memory.
And what does all this have to do with Santa Claus, you may ask!  Well, I have a little friend and her name is Madison.  We call her Madi.  She is 9 years old and she is beautiful.  Remember the Breck girl?  Madi has huge blue eyes, a Madonna face and a smile that is like a glimpse into heaven.  The best part of it is she has a pure innocence that almost brings me to tears.  She always hugs me and asks how I am.  Just an honest to goodness little angel that cares about all the people in her world.  And today she explained to me about Santa Claus.  Did you know he lives at the North Pole?  He spends all year making toys.  The conversation was two sided.
"Well, yeah Madi, but there is a recession going on so things aren't looking so good for you this year.  How is he going to get toys?"
"Well, he will make them."
"Well, he can't make them if he does not have money for the raw materials!"
"Well, he has money!  He has more money than anyone in the world."
"Ok, but he is old and fat, so how can he make toys for everyone in the whole world?"
"Well, Lou, he has helpers.  Do you know he can hear everything you are saying and he probably will not give you any toys.  Nothing!  Because he knows everything!  And he sees everything!"
Well, when I found out that he could hear and see everything, I acquiesced and recanted so I could get back on the good side of Santa Clause.  This made Madi happy and she thinks I may get something this year.  I sure hope she is right.  And I do so hope she maintains her beliefs as long as possible because all too soon she will be walking across the stage to get her diploma and heading out to take her place in the world.  A world that will no doubt get bigger every day for her.

Love you, Madi!

Maybe it is time to rethink the Santa thing!

I have once more been called a Grinch.  Now why do people do that?  I am not a Grinch.  I think Christmas is wonderful.  Or at least the part about the baby Jesus.  And the wise men.  And the shepherds.  I like the Christmas tree and the carols and all that stuff.  What I have a problem with is the commercialism.  Black Friday, Super Saturday, Something Monday.  How much are sales up?  How much are sales down?
I remember the last Christmas that I thought the presents were from Santa.  For years I had written the letter to Santa telling him how bad I wanted a dolly.  Dolly's were different than as opposed to now.  They had plastic legs and arms and a hard plastic head.  And if you got a really good one it would cry when you tilted it back and then it would close it's eyes.  I finally got the dolly. And  I loved that dolly.  And I could not figure out how she knew to close her eyes.  Unfortunately for dear dolly, neither could my brother, Jake.  But he had a solution for that.  Little tap on the back of the head with the hammer and all Dolly's secrets were revealed.  There were weights that caused her eyes to close.  And in all fairness he did try to glue the back of her head back on, but she was just never the same.  And since he had pretty well performed a patrial lobotomy on her, it was just another step to rip her stomach open and see what made her cry.  That was a sort of thing that when you laid her down, air went through an opening and made her cry. 
Now Jake did make me promise that I would not tell mother what he had done.  But mother's have a way of finding this stuff out.  I tried to tell her that I had done it, because I knew he was going to get a licking.  I was a girl so I did not get punished like the boy did.  And mother never did it herself.  Maybe Dad did.  I don't remember.  I do know he got in very bad trouble.  I could not understand why Mother was so upset.  It had come from Santa, but you would have thought it came out of her pocket.  Hmmm.
But that is not the Christmas gift I remember the most.  The last one I remember and it will always stick in my mind was simply a book, a red ball, an orange and some candy in a sack.  I  think I remember it most because that was the year I made the connection with momma and Santa Claus.  All the years that I thought he was so wonderful, he did not even exist.  My mother was putting money away a little at a time so us little ragamuffins could get something from Santa.
Santa has been going around garnering praise for all these years while mothers and fathers do without so he can get the glory.  I did it for my kids and in keeping with the season, I am going to tell about some of the Christmas's for my little kiddies.  I am not real proud of all of them, but they are what they are.  It is hard to hide the truth for very long.  So let me get my head together and I will share with you a few of the Seeger Family Christmases!