I confess I am an imposter!

             I have to come clean. I have to expose a secret side to my life. For the past ten years I have been hiding behind a mask, well actually a beard. I am now ready to confess, my name is Andrew Mair and I play Santa Claus. 

It all started innocently enough. My younger brother had taken up the habit several years before me. And I told myself that that was not for me. I would never do that. But then I bought a Santa hat, it made me look jolly and "Christmassy".   Then I would throw in a "ho ho ho" from time to time just to try it out.  Even still I never thought I would become one of “those” people.

 And then one day while walking through the Brigham City Deseret Industries thrift store I saw it, A Santa Suit.  I wasn’t sure if it was had all of its pieces, or if it was still intact and functional.  It had everything, a beard, a full suit, a belt, boot coverings, a hat and a wig. 

If I bought the suit, what would I do with it?  Would I be one of those guys who pretend to be Santa at parties?  Mocking the real Santa with fake beards and fake bellies stuffed with pillows and old shirts.  Could I be one of those men who every Christmas dress as this beloved icon and peddle themselves?   What about the other side?  If I bought this suit for the ten dollar asking price could I live up to the legend?  Could I be jolly enough?  Could I even walk in the shoes of the great Kris Cringle?

As I child I remember seeing a lot of different Santa’s at Malls, and Church Parties, and the Local Christmas Village display that was in the park adjacent to our City Hall in Ogden, Utah.  (The real Santa was at Christmas Village by the way.)  I remember being mesmerized by the suit and the pure celebrity of the real Santa Claus in the case of the Christmas Village Santa, and real Santa’s helpers in the case of the others. 

I can tell you that as far as children who believe in Santa go I was out in front.  I couldn’t see a world where Santa did not exist.  I knew Santa was as real as Kermit the Frog, Mickey Mouse, and Bugs Bunny were real.  I remember explaining in detail to a classmate how I had seen Santa delivering gifts to my house and heard his reindeer on my roof.  I had to say that to him, he was trying to sell me on the idea that Santa was not real.  And even though I couldn’t be sure I had really seen him, I thought that maybe I had seen him and had somehow forgotten.   

So armed with this deep feeling and love for the beloved Christmas crusader, I hesitated to purchase the suit.  But just as I was about to walk away from the purchase, I had another thought.  Maybe it would be fun.  I imagined crowds of children flocking around me with their parents taking pictures.  I dreamt of leading songs and visiting the elderly.  My mind transported me to Malls and Churches, to Schools and Businesses.  And since I am a look at me type person who cannot resist a chance to sing or perform for a group I was pulled back to the suit.  I purchased it for the ten dollar asking price and took it home to actually see if it fit, it did. (With the help of some pillows and old shirts.)

SO why confess this now?  Well to tell you the truth it’s not exactly a secret.  I told you that story to tell you this one.   

I have for the last ten years struggled with performing Santa.  I have had some great experiences; I have had the privilege to play Santa for my nieces and nephew, for friends and family for businesses and churches for charities and on stage.  I have developed a Christmas Eve route of 3 families that has become almost as important to me as spending that night with my own family.  I have only missed a few times for significant reasons and I deeply miss being the Santa in their homes. 

Yet outside of Christmas Eve I no longer do many other visits.  About seven years ago I became disenchanted with performing Mr. Claus for money.  It started to become a job.  It stopped being fun.  I thought I was being true to myself and to the spirit of “the jolly old elf”.  What I really was being was a snob.  I had developed into a Santa snob.  I raised my nose to gigs where I felt I was selling out.  I became the Curt Cobain of Santas.  What I didn’t realize was I had squandered and opportunity to learn to become a better Father Christmas. 

On this night one year ago I wrote about how the carol I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day had turned my Christmas around.  I had been struggling with feeling the “Christmas Spirit”.  One of the reasons I cited was that I had experienced a complete overhaul of the traditions I knew as a kid and all of what mad Christmas my favorite holiday had been removed and replaced.  One of my favorite parts of the Christmas season is dressing as the Sainted Mr. Cringle and visiting the family’s that have made me a part of their traditions.  Last year, even this was not part of my Christmas season. 

Our finances were meager and I even tried to get other Santa gigs.  However due to my own “snobbery” I wasn’t able to perform at even one party, or visit one church.  I did not don my suit even one time.  Last year taught me that if I can’t feel the spirit of Christmas, or “hear the bells”, the fault was not in others, or the season, or in the lack of money, it was in me.

So this year, I have taken on a renewed view of performing Old Man Christmas.  Our finances have not recovered by much, even though there have been improvements.  However, to accomplish this work took me to New York State for three months.  These three months were not easy for me.  I am not very good about leaving my wife.  The trip was successful and I returned with a renewed vigor for the future and a new more positive outlook.  And as I returned I was offered several opportunities for putting on my old red suit, and once again reaching into my soul to see if I could make Santa Claus become as real to others as he was and is to me.

Each opportunity this year has reminded me why Old’ St. Nick is beloved across this world.  He embodies the magic of the season.  To kids of all ages he reminds us of a time where we saw only the good in Christmas.  I find it interesting how even adults and kids who obviously do not believe in Santa treat me while dressed in my festive garb. 

When I drive to and from an appearance I never drive in partial dress.  I travel in full dress, beard wig and all.  I believe like Disney does with its characters that seeing a partially dressed Santa could have devastating effects on a child who may not be prepared to know why Santa does not have a beard and has blonde hair. 

It is a delight for me to see all the kids who do double and triple takes as they are parked next to me at stop lights.  I find it an added bonus to see parents with kids and especially adults of all backgrounds with or without kids in the car, go out of their way to wave at me.  Today while driving home I had a truck full of thirty year olds (maybe older) chase me down on the freeway simply to honk and have me wave at them.  The Magic of the Claus suit makes grown men into small boys and women into pigtailed girls, even for a second.

Even though I needed the money this year, I found myself jollier, more energetic, more like Santa.  I allowed the legend and magic of Santa Claus to engulf me and teach me why children are the center of this beloved holiday.  And why I love it so much.  And I was touched all the more by every little experience that carried on through all the visits I made this year.

At a school I visited I had one little girl almost go into convulsions when I walked into the room she was so excited.  At the same school a sixth grader who had a class full of non-believers wait till her classmates could not hear and whispered what she wanted for Christmas.  And a young boy gave me a small eraser as his own gift for Santa, a gift that touched me so that very eraser is now an ornament on my tree.  At a Boys and Girls club in Salt Lake City, I had a young Muslim girl ask if I was going to bring presents to her, pausing briefly I told her that is why I was there that day, which was true. 

All of these experiences help me understand that this season of giving is only “magical” if we do not think about ourselves.  In a conversation with a boyhood friend the other day, we concluded that while our memories contain some details that include the presents we received, usually the larger or more significant ones.  It is the times shared with others and the service and gifts we give others that seem to stand out the most. 

Santa Claus has given me more gifts this year than any other.  He did not need to come down my chimney.  He did not need to ride in on his supernatural sleigh pulled by his airborne antlers.  He gave me the gift of being him, and looking at Christmas from the perspective of service.  Saint Nicholas is the embodiment of the scripture that reads, “Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”(Mathew 25:40)

I will never be snobby about performing The Claus again, although I am not the real Santa.  I will keep his legend pure and treat it as an honor to be asked to enter another family or groups traditions.  As I left my final visit this year the head of the family whom I have known for years came out to thank me, he told me it was a blessing that I have been “their Santa” for ten years that I know his grandchildren’s names, I have watched them grow up, and I am the only Santa they know.  There is no greater compliment or sentiment as a confessed and unashamed Santa Impersonator.

So from the words of that “jolly old elf” from A Visit from St. Nicholas by C. C. Moore or H. Livingston, “Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night.”