Living Without Santa

By Lucky Tomaszek

One night in December of 1978, when I was 6 years old, I stayed up very late watching a toy drive on TV. As I gazed longingly at all the dolls and drums and toy trains piled up for needy children, the host announced the arrival of Santa Claus — he was coming to pick up the toys!

I was so excited that I sat straight up on the couch to get a better look. “Ho Ho Ho!” shouted a deep voice, and I got goosebumps. I could hear him stomping onto the set and suddenly, there he was! He was tall and round, dressed in a red velvet suit with black boots. And he was African American. I watched in bewilderment as this jolly Santa picked up the collected toys and thanked the viewing audience for their generosity.

The Truth comes out.

The next morning, I had a million questions for my mom about the toy drive. I started with questions about the toys I had seen and who would be getting them. Then I said, “Why was Santa on TV black, and Santa at the mall white? How can he change his skin like that?” Then and there, she told me the whole truth, straight out, with no holds barred.

I was devastated. I felt like the adults were pulling off the biggest conspiracy ever. I told my mom I needed to get to school right away and tell all of my friends The Truth. We were being lied to, and it had to stop. Mom explained that I really shouldn’t tell the other kids, as it would make them sad. I didn’t understand it — I was taught not to lie. And in our radical house, I was also taught to stand up for injustice and help others in need. In my kindergarten mind, explaining The Truth to all of the other kids was merely fulfilling what I was already seeing as my role in life. Despite her advice, my mom was called to pick me up early that day, but not until I’d broken the hearts of four or five of my classmates.

The true meaning of Santa.

As I started planning my own family, I knew I wanted Christmas in my house to be different from what I felt it had become for most Americans. At the time, I was in the middle of spiritual crisis, unsure of my beliefs regarding Christianity and the role of the holiday in our culture. As a long-time retail professional, I detested the shopping and the spending and the consuming. But I didn’t have my own set of beliefs around which to build a “new” holiday celebration. I was a little lost.

My first baby was born in July of 1995 and I spent the next 5 months pondering how I was going to present Christmas to her. My husband and I exhaustively discussed the holiday and what message we really wanted her to take with her as she grew. We knew we wanted Christmas to be a time of great love and family togetherness. We understood that the gifts we give to others during the holidays are merely a symbol of the love we give all year long. And this is what we’ve taught our children. However you celebrate this time of year, this is the true season of love, a chance to celebrate having people in your life who you value and cherish.

We do this without contributing to what I felt was a conspiracy as a child, and yet our children love the jolly old elf. They know “Santa Claus” is a very nice story about a wonderful man who works all year to make gifts for children all over the world, and thus embodies the spirit of the holiday we celebrate. They know that other children believe something different, and they know that we must respect those beliefs. They are not scarred. They do not run around “ruining it” for other children, like I did. They simply enjoy every minute of the holiday season, preparing gifts of love for family and friends and making the longest red and green paper chain in the state.

Happy Holidays everyone! I hope you revel in the peace and love of those closest to you.