Sadistic Claus

As a kid, I couldn't figure out if Santa had a hearing problem or was just some sadistic old man that liked to disappoint kids.  Every Christmas, I would ask for one thing and then Christmas morning would come and I would receive a slightly different version of what I asked for.  By slightly different, I mean, slightly cheaper. 

For example, if I asked Santa for a G.I. Joe, I would get a Salvation Army Steve.  If I asked for a football, I would get a frisbee.  If I asked for a puppy, there would be new Hush Puppies underwear under our Christmas tree.

It was like Santa wanted to fulfill my Christmas wishes but also wanted to satisfy his own sick twisted need to disappoint kids.  But I got older and a little smarter.  So, I would aim higher.  I would tell Santa I want a motorcycle.  Then Christmas would come and instead, I got a bike.  The very thing I really wanted.  The older I got, I learned how to win the battle of wits against that old sadistic man from the North Pole.

Toys back then were 10% plastic and 90% imagination.  There really was no difference between a GI Joe or a Salvation Army Steve except price.  It all came down to the child and how he used his imagination with that toy.  That is something I never realized until I became much older.


This Christmas, I really only wanted one thing; maybe two:  A phone call and a three word sentence.  Instead, I got the Salvation Army Steve of phone calls:  Text messages.  Sure, I was disappointed.  Text messages are so impersonal especially on such a personal holiday like Christmas. 

So, for a few hours, I quietly wallowed in my own disappointment and reflected on why Santa, once again, has resorted to low balling my Christmas requests.  It dawned on me, that here we are in the age of technology and information and today's toys not only cause a disconnect between people but they suck all the creativity out of us. 

I used to love going to the mailbox on Christmas and getting physical Christmas cards.  Now, it's all about e-cards and Christmas wishes on our Facebook pages.  Or just some impersonal text message.  When I was a kid and I couldn't afford buying presents, I would either steal something from my mom, wrap it up and give it back to her Christmas morning.  Or I would just make her something like a drawing that said "I love you" or some ridiculous painted rock.  I would get creative because I wanted her to know how much I care.  Now, it's all about gift cards.  Nothing is more lazy and less creative than handing cash to a store and in return, they give you a prepaid plastic card for the recipient to turn around and do their own Christmas shopping.  Hell, you can buy gift cards for someone without even leaving your house. 

We have become so disconnected with each other and I don't even think people realize it.  We are either so fat and lazy in our love for another or simply so self-absorbed, we don't even recognize who we've become.

I think the best Christmases, the ones that are always remembered, are not the ones where we get the GI Joes we asked for or the fancy new iphone we begged Santa for.  The best Christmases are always the thoughtful ones; the ones where we are treated as someone important and significant, where gifts are simple but heartfelt, where people put pride and laziness to the side and either pick up the telephone or make something creative instead of relying on the easy way out that technology has afforded us. 

But I also believe the best Christmases are the ones where disappointment is realized to be nothing but one man's selfish wants triumphing over just simply being thankful.  The best Christmases are being content when you are given a Salvation Army Steve and thanking that person simply for making an effort.

I had a shitty Christmas.  But it was my fault.  Christmas isn't about focusing on ourselves.  It's about other people.  It's what we give not what we get. 

As far as Santa goes, I suppose he has his reasons for not meeting my humble demands.  Next Christmas, I will ask for something bigger like a knock on my door.   And like always, Santa will low ball me and I just may get that phone call instead. 

And if I don't, I'll be happy with whatever that sadistic old man finds me worthy of.