An Unexpected Gift
My Initiation to the Path of the Every Day Santa
On my 49th birthday, two days after Christmas, I received an odd gift. It was addressed to me, but to a name I had not used in over thirty years. Even more peculiar was the postmark and sender. The package had seemingly made its way to me from the post office of the North Pole from none other than Santa Claus. It was a small parcel, roughly the size of a shoebox, and it was wrapped neatly in thick brown paper. The package was sealed with a ribbon artfully woven through the wrapping paper and held fast with a fat cake of sealing wax impressed with a circle enclosing two letters: SC. The package was light for its size, beautiful, and smelled faintly of cedar and wood smoke. In short, it was more a piece of art than a package, and I was reluctant to do it damage by attempting to open it.
The package sat on my coffee table for days. Occasionally I would sit and stare at it in wonder. I was trying to puzzle out the method in which it was wrapped and decide which of my friends had gone to such lengths to create this obvious prank. I would pick it up, shake it lightly while intently listening for clues to the contents, and then gently set it back on the table. This lasted nearly a week, as I could not bring myself to damage the artful wrapping. Ultimately, my wife made the decision for me, as she took a pair of scissors and cut the ribbon which held the wrapping paper in place. With the first step taken, it was a simple task to remove the box without damaging the paper, as only the single ribbon held it fast in place.
The thick brown paper, sealing wax still holding the ribbon in place, was carefully set off to the side, leaving only a simple wooden box. The box itself was bare cedar with brass hinges and a simple clasp. The cover had ’Skeeziks, ES’ elegantly burned into the center. The only other marking was a small circle enclosing the letters SC, which had been burned into the bottom right-hand corner of the lid. It was the same mark as in the sealing wax—the mark of Santa Claus.
The elegance of the wrapping, the workmanship of the simple box, and the use of my childhood nickname seriously limited the pool of friends who could have pulled this off. However, I still considered it probable that this was a prank, as the alternative was simply impossible. As such, I took the still-closed box out onto the deck, where an explosion of glitter or confetti would lean more toward amusing than annoying. Nobody wants to be vacuuming glitter out of the carpet for months… So, in the crisp winter air, on the first of January 2017, I opened my birthday gift from Santa Claus.
Inside I found a bundle of letters, wrapped neatly in a red bow, with a card on top. The card read:
Dearest Skeeziks,
Happy Birthday! I was glad to see the seed of your inner Santa finally blossomed this year and bore fruit in a beautiful display of Christmas spirit. I saw that you made an impressive effort to be Santa to spread the happiness of Christmas this year. The holidays can be a lonely time, so seeing young pups like you out there helping bring smiles and joy to people warms my heart.
Not many potential Santas reach the level of bearing such fruit, so you are to be commended. I am proud of you and know your grandfather would be too. I see you learned a trick or two from him. He was one of the good ones, so I am glad you are following in his impressive footsteps. However, now is not the time to rest on your laurels. You have only taken your first steps on The Path of Santa, earning the bantam-weight title of “Everyday Santa.” (That is what the “ES” on the box refers to.) This is the first rank on The Path of Santa, of which there are only two more: Every Day Santa (EDS) and Santa Claus (SC). So please don’t fret that you are of the lowest rank, as earning your ES is like getting your black belt in martial arts; it means you have mastered the basics and are now ready to truly learn.
In truth, not many make it from the ‘Everyday Santa’ to ‘Every Day Santa,’ as it is quite a big step. It is much easier to play Santa for two weeks every year than to embody the spirit of Santa Every Day, but I have faith in you.
Years ago, a young boy named Skeeziks sent me a letter asking me what I wanted for Christmas, which is how I knew I would be writing this card to you someday. I did not receive a similar letter from you this year, but your actions spoke to me. So, I will answer the question for you again, as I feel you are truly ready to understand. What I want most this year is to see you grow again. Become the Every Day Santa that I know you are meant to be. Join your grandfather among the ranks of all the other Every Day Santas who have walked this earth and left it a more joyous place.
With love and the utmost faith,
Santa Claus, SC
P.S. If you don’t mind, could you please toss an apple or two on the roof this year on Christmas Eve? The reindeer burn a lot of calories, and they always appreciate a snack. -SC
An hour later, my wife came out to find me still holding the card in my hands, tears rolling down my cheeks, and a serene smile on my face. Her presence woke me from my trance, and I dropped the card back into the box, rose to hug her, and sobbed. Concerned, she asked if I was OK, but all I could blubber between sobs was, “…Santa…Bumpa…Santa…he believes…in…me…”
Back in the house, thankfully glitter-free, my wife and I sat down to a warming cup of tea to discuss the card. As simple as it was, there was a lot to unwrap. First, while I had completely forgotten about it, apparently, I had sent Santa a letter when I was a child. Of course, all kids ‘write letters to Santa,’ but we never remember them, and we certainly never expect replies. Even if they do come nearly half a century later.
Also, while I always considered my grandfather, who we all called Bumpa, to be Santa Claus, I did not know how true it was. I have always told people that my grandfather was Santa Claus, and most people in the town I grew up in would agree with me, but not many outside of my hometown believed me. Now I had a letter from Santa himself confirming it. I wanted to shout it from the rooftops!
While I had already begun striving to reach the Santa level of my grandfather, the yoke suddenly felt much heavier on my shoulders. I was no longer working only to meet my ever-shifting goals in that area, but the big man was also watching. Thankfully, the tea was a calming chamomile, and the warm encouragement of my wife helped me take Santa’s statement of his ‘love and utmost faith’ to heart. I spent my whole life believing in him, yet it was hearing that he believed in me that I found the most challenging to accept. Santa believed in me.
That became my mantra: “Santa believes in me. Santa has faith in me. I can be Santa Every Day. Santa. Every. Day. Santa believes in me…”
It wasn’t until I returned to the box the next day that I learned I hadn’t only sent Santa the one letter. I had sent him many. And he had replied. To all of them. How could I not remember this? How did he have the letters I sent him and the replies he sent me as well? This was beyond comprehension. Santa had been my childhood pen pal, and I had forgotten all about it. Santa, however, had not.
What follows in the pages of this site are my letters to Santa and his replies. These recount the first steps of a child on the Path of Santa; stumbles, detours, and all.
Steve Henneberry, ES
AKA: Skeeziks
A Frannie story - I don't know exactly when but happened into Wentworth Lumber and did my 'check in' with Frannie. He was bussily working on his most recent acquisition - a tractor trailer full of shoes he had brought at auction. He donated and sent the entire shipment of shoes to somewhere overseas. What a big heart he had !