Santa Claus Is Coming to Town

Recently, my son was playing “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town” by the Jackson 5. When the words, “He’s making a list and checking it twice. Gonna find out who’s naughty and nice,” rang out, I told my son, “I used to believe every word of that song, which was silly seeing that I had never received a Christmas present before.”

Yes! I believed there was a Santa Claus. And, yes! I believed he had an all-seeing eye and kept a list of who was naughty or nice all year long. And, based on that list, some kids would receive what they’d asked for on Christmas morning, while others—the naughty ones—would receive a lump of coal. I believed this until I was at least nine years old, and I believed this even though I had never received a wrapped Christmas present from Santa my entire life. Since none of my siblings received anything from Santa either, I never thought that Santa bypassed our house because we were naughty. I had various other theories.

1. We lived too far out in the country for him to find us. There were no lights out there at night, so naturally, he wouldn’t be able to spot our house even with Rudolph’s bright red nose.

2. We didn’t exactly have a chimney for him to climb down. In my brothers’ room was an old chimney that had once been used to connect a wood-burning stove. I would often stare at that chimney and ponder whether Santa could possibly fit. Sometimes, I’d shrug and walk away thinking, He could just knock on the front door if he really wanted to give us presents.

3. We never had a tree. A tree is required, right? Where else was Santa supposed to leave the presents?

4. We never wrote letters to Santa, so how did he know we existed? I wrote him once, but I didn’t know how to address the envelope so I never mailed it. Santa can’t bring toys to children who don’t exist.

Finally, I decided to ask my mom why Santa never came to our house. She responded matter-of-factly, “You have to buy toys.” Oh! I thought naively. Parents have to pay Santa for the toys, so that’s why he never comes to our house. We’re too poor.

I held that belief for at least two more Christmases, then I finally gave up the belief that there was a Santa Claus who traveled the world on Christmas Eve, delivering toys to the good children who had requested them—or to the ones whose parents could afford to pay him for his services. But one thing I never gave up was my hope that I would miraculously receive a present on Christmas day. Every year—tree or no tree—I would get up on Christmas morning with the hope that somebody (mainly my dad, who didn’t live with us) would stop by with Christmas presents for me, my brother Willie, my niece Brenda, and my two younger sisters, Mary and Gloria. For some reason, I assumed my three teenage brothers, Robert, Odell, and Leetonia (yes, it’s a boy’s name), didn’t need Christmas presents. But maybe they, too, hoped that someone would stop by bearing gifts for them. Occasionally, our dad, Isaac, would show up bearing a few gifts—knock-off Barbies and a sack of clothes from the thrift store. But he never showed up with any presents with which I could make a list and present to my classmates in January when everyone came back to school and shared their “What I got for Christmas” lists. Since no one could refute me (we lived too far out in the boondocks for them to visit my house), I made up a list, just like I made up so many other things about my life. But that’s another story for another day….

I said all that to say this: I am so glad that there are organizations that help get Christmas presents to children who would otherwise not receive anything. I know…. I know…. It would be so much easier if we would simply de-commercialize Christmas. But, since we know that’s not going to happen, I’ll say it again: I’m glad there are organizations that help get Christmas presents to children who would otherwise not receive anything. Toys for Tots and Angel Tree (who gives Christmas gifts to children of incarcerated parents) are just two examples. There are many others.

Once when I was out shopping with my daughter to fill a few shoeboxes for New Missions, which delivers shoeboxes to children in Haiti, I was only loading my cart with personal hygiene items and underwear. My daughter asked, “What about the toys?”

“Well, these things are more important than toys,” I said. “They don’t need toys.”

“Every kid needs toys, Mom,” my daughter responded.

Her words took me straight back to my own toyless Christmases. I immediately went to the toy aisle and began looking for small toys that would fit into a shoebox. I hope that the toys that I included in those shoeboxes brought a smile to some child’s face. I know they would have brought one to mine.

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