(12/15) “He was just a man. St. Nicholas was just a man in a...

(12/15) “He was just a man. St. Nicholas was just a man in a village, who gave presents to children. But he was so kind that people remembered his story. They called him Santa. And in 1862 RH Macy put an ad in the paper, saying that Santa had come to his store. That’s how it all began: one man, one chair. Since that day only 275 men have worn this suit. And not to toot my own horn; but what I do, as this man, I take it very, very seriously. Every time you put on your suit, you get ‘fluffed’ by the make-up people. Some guys need 5 or 10 minutes, something is always off. But not me. When I stand in front of them, they don’t touch me. They say: ‘Thank you.’ I take a moment to myself. I picture all the people I’m going to see that night, and I make it my business. For every single one of them to believe. I muster up all the joy and hope and wonder that I have in my being. All of my Christmas, I pour into this man. And I dupe them all: the kids, the adults. Especially the adults. Kids believe automatically. It’s the adults that need it; they need to believe. Sometimes I’ll get a call from a friend. They’ll say: ‘Johnny, my daughter is eleven. She’s on the fence. Can I bring her in?’ And when she comes to see Santa, I know her name, where she lives, how she’s doing in school. And my friend has their beautiful little child believing for one more year. Just one more year. It’s such a short time. From one to five you have them. In all their innocence. Before it starts to click in: the real life, the adulthood. First it’s only a glimpse; and it clicks back. You get them back. But each year it clicks back less and less. Until it doesn’t click back. Until your baby boy, the only one you’ve got, comes home from school and says: ‘Dad, my friends and I have been talking. And it’s logistically impossible for Santa to do all of that in a single night.’ And I knew. I knew I couldn’t hold him any longer. I went into the bedroom. Tabatha took one look at my face, and said ‘What’s up?’ I said: ‘I think our son just told me he doesn’t believe in Santa.’ And she said: ‘Thank God.’ And we laughed for a second. Then I said: ‘It’s over. This year, when he comes to Santa, he comes to me.”