Basura: The adventures of a man wearing a seasonal red suit

It was about this time of the year, for a few years in a row, when I was asked to put on the red suit. A volunteer was needed. I have a big belly, a hearty laugh, wire rimmed glasses, and I’ve always enjoyed kids. Playing that particular role seemed like a good fit for someone like me, so I was happy to be asked, and glad to do it.

I suppose the first year I was surprised by how tired I was after a couple of hours in the role. I learned it is not as easy as I might have thought. The venue was public. There were lines of kids waiting to see me, and hoping to provide me with important information as to things like toy preferences.

I might have thought of myself as a guy dressed up in a red suit and all the accoutrements, playing a traditional role as a character much beloved by children. But to the little ones, I was THE GUY. You know who I mean. Even now I find myself hesitating to name the name, aware that some kids are reading while still believing in the Jolly Old Elf that comes from the North Pole about this time of year.

The difficulty came from not knowing what children brought with them as their understanding of the process. What had they been told at home? Was it similar to what our son had experienced, or did each child come with a different set of hopes, based on different family folk tales?

In my own family of origin, for example, one year I was asked, “Don’t you think when our visitor comes, late at night, down through the chimney, that he will have visited many houses, and had all the milk and cookies he might want? Don’t you think he might really enjoy some cheese and crackers, and a bottle of beer?”

It did make sense to me, having observed my father and my uncles. So cheese, crackers, and a beer, were set out. In the morning, the idea was proved correct. All the cheese and crackers were gone, the napkin was crumpled, and the beer bottle was empty. There were toys under the decorated tree. It was true!

Years later, as I wore the red suit, there would be some interactions that tested my resourcefulness. One family brought a child to me that was crying. “Now you tell why you’ve been naughty,” the parents said.  “You tell him you deserve to get a lump of coal!”

The kid was really distressed. I reminded the boy – and his parents – that I had a good idea who was naughty, and who was nice. Even nice boys sometimes do things that are naughty, but coal is not a very proper gift. I really wasn’t sure I had much coal, I said, but I did know there were a lot of toys at the North Pole. I made sure to make eye contact with the supposed grown-ups as I said these words.

Another child I remember was afraid of me. Her parents were pushing this very little girl toward me, and she didn’t want to come closer. She was getting more agitated, crying, and the parents were pushing her harder. “It’s OK,” I said, “I know where all the children live, and what toys they like. I’ll remember you, and bring something nice. Maybe next year you’ll come and see me again.”

One girl asked me for her own separate bedroom. She said that she was tired of sharing with her sister. “It’s the one thing I really, really want,” she told me. Her parents’ eyes widened in horror as they heard her say this. I said, “Oh, goodness. The elves don’t know how to build a room. They’d try their best, but I’m sure they’d make a huge mess of the project. But the elves are really good at toys. It’s what they do all year long, and they’re great at toy making. I think it would be a lot better if you got a nice toy.” To my great relief, she smiled and said she thought so too, if the elves couldn’t make an extra room. I saw great relief on the faces of the mom and dad.

I did it for three years. Then connection to the entity putting on the event was lost. A new guy would be putting on the red suit. I found the process challenging and richly rewarding. The suit and all that went with it was very hot. I was onstage from the moment I stepped out of the back room.

But seeing the children looking at me with the biggest eyes, calling out, excited and happy to see me made it wonderful. I got to be, for a couple of hours, a magical, mythical, beloved figure.