Go On, I Dare You

Eggnog. Nope, allergic to dairy. Hot buttered rum? What did I say?

Ecologically cool gift exchange? Nope. Santa is thinking COAL. Being naughty is a true contradiction of Santa's nature; huh? You don't believe? Look in your stocking that was passed down to you from great Who & Who and if you find coal, you AND Santa are guilty.

Labouring in the mines, those dank, dangerous caverns beneath the earth, are real people. Guess what they are doing it for? Working for a living, a pay check to pay check kinda living, a high risk of cancer kinda living, lung disease and oh, indeed, sweating to put something under the Christmas tree. No one in Appalachian coal mines is thinking about anything but their next shift, their sick mother, their duty to provide.

Santa's dream is to bring cheer, smiles and hope to small children and to give. Thing is he needs help. Santa's pockets are stretched thin. The sleigh broke down and somebody has to fix it. The most likely to help him out is the Grinch; he doesn't give a Whoville about taking Santa's last dime.

Kids were pouring down from the scraggly mountains to see the Santa at the A&P waiting anxiously for their turn to whisper in his ear. The mother's who could be, were with them, standing solemn, straining smiles and clutching their purses. Most would say, "You don't need a picture with Santa darlin', we have one at home." Fifteen dollars to sit in the lap of some jolly liar to share one's wildest dreams; he says he will do what he can, yet he too, is being paid an hourly wage to indulge and devour innocent victims token means.

Santa is bushed. He strains climbing the incline to his home, and wiggles out of his happiness then settles next to his beloved wife of forty-five years. She doesn't think right anymore and brings him a cold drink and turns on the television. Together they sit and watch. There's a war on the Gaza, neither ever really understand what it was about, talk about some Russians and a country they couldn't find on a map. Then there is a story about a man needing prosthetic legs after serving in some other place far away and a number to call to donate. He's a local fellow, young, has a baby.

Santa and his wife can't help. They need his temporary income to keep their home sweet home warm through the chilly nights to come; located about a half a mile off Main Street it is full of memorabilia. The wallpaper is old and faded; was it once a wildflower design? Oval shaped framed photos of their five boys hang on the wall above the television. They all have good jobs in the mines. They all have kids and out of five, only one, Jeb, has a drinking problem. Santa's wife, Bess, says it's cause their daughter-in-law lost a baby girl last spring at birth. In front of both of the well worn sofa were two folding tables; Bess had sweet tea and some little packs of peanut butter on tiny round crackers and handed some to Santa.

The sun rises but never peaks; Bess does her best to fill his belly for the day with eggs, toast and apple jelly. She wraps up two bologna sandwiches and gives him a thermos full of hot coffee, he mentions that his feet ache. They can't afford the medicine he needs for his rheumatoid arthritis so he heads down the hill to greet more kids, the guilt weighing heavier than any sack of toys dropped down a chimney to some lucky feller.

Yes, Santa feels guilty. He knows most of the families in town. He recognizes their mothers from church and most of their daddies from his own sons school days.

Today a girl sits and begs for a real bed, with a pink and green quilt. She says she hates sleeping with her siblings on the smelly ole carpet, she really wishes that her mom could learn how to make real pancakes with maple syrup like in a Christmas movie she saw on T.V.; she slips off his knee and he holds back a tear while choking out a "Ho, Ho, Ho."

"Who we got here?", a boy, perhaps six climbs up and gives Santa a big hug. "Thank you, Santa!" Santa cups his ear and waits to hear the boys wishes. The boy doesn't ask for anything at all. He tells Santa that his Momma needs new shoes, his Daddy needs more hours in the mines and his Granny moved in with them because Grandpa died in his sleep. Santa looks up at the mother who is thin, her red hair in pulled back tight into a pony tail and she is wearing rainboots with duct tape around the soles. "I get confused sometimes", Santa looks into the boy's precious green eyes tenderly, "which house is yours again?"; the boy perks up, "We live in back of the old church; the one that has a loud bell. Our house is too cold right now. They have beds lined up, food, everything anybody needs but I miss my dog." Santa watches as he runs back to his Mother who takes a firm grip of his hand as they walk toward the door.

Santa has a fifteen minute break and eats his lunch; he is feeling sad, tired, older than he is and wishes he could get help for Bess. He worries all day about her being alone with the way her mind is; a few days ago he came home to find her crying like a child, she'd forgotten where he was. None of their daughter-in-laws could help out as they were lucky to have good jobs at a tire factory working on the line.

The A&P manager walked over to him and asked if he could stay an extra hour; Santa obliged and returned to his throne. The last hour was not work, it was torture. His eyes barely twinkled, his mind was full of woe, his heart although strong, felt weak. After his last little visitor he pulled out a note that the manager had stuck in his pocket when he was working. Five dollars under the table felt good; on a small piece of paper it read, "stop by my office before you leave".

Santa wobbled on his sore feet to the back of the store, through the "Employees Only" swinging doors, past boxes full of canned goods and knocked on his temporary bosses' door. He heard "come on in" and turned the door handle slowly.

"Surprise!" Why all the employees had gathered to give Santa a Christmas party as his parting gift. He smiled, even chuckled and wiped a tear or two from his eyes. "Ya'll didn't need to do all this" he said in a shy manner. A teenage boy who'd been an elf spoke up, "You were the best Santa we ever had!" He was donned with compliments as a short, robust woman in a bakery hat brought out a big sheet cake with red and green sprinkles with the words "Merry Christmas" written in a snowy white. The boss cut Santa a bigger piece than anyone else's and as if planned everyone sang, "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" while he licked his lips. Fruit punch from large cans was poured in big red cups while they all shared a small bit of glee. Santa realized in that moment, or rather was reminded once again, that he was here to spread hope, his role was not temporary for he could spread hope all year round.

The boss spoke above the others, "What are you doing for Easter?" Santa squinted his eyes without following where his boss was heading in the conversation. "Could you be the Easter Bunny, too? Pays the same, and we all just love you here." Santa was taken back. He needed the money but it was a long time before Easter and he had to find some other work before then. Could he commit? "Well, why I am so grateful, I need work soon, Sir. Easter is a ways off and my wife needs to get some help." He explained how she was starting to forget things, how he was worried leaving her alone all day and then he flat out broke down. Santa was crying. Cashiers and stock boys gathered around him and listened. One boy offered an idea, "could she come with you?" The boss crossed his arms and muttered something about liability. A woman who was very pregnant stepped in, "does she like kids?" Santa shared they'd had five boys, eight grand-children and expressed that she sure indeed loved little ones. "The church on Main Street has free child-care and needs volunteers. She could come and play, cradle and they give everyone a free lunch." The boss encouraged this idea yet was looking down at the floor in deep thought. He then spoke up again, "I tell ya what Santa, if you can work this out I actually need some help cleaning here in the store, mind you it's not forty hours and we don't have insurance coverage, but it's yours if you want it!" Santa's eyes widened, he got up from his metal folding chair and held out his arms to give the young man a big squeeze. He then hugged each and every person in the room. "Ho, Ho, Ho, it's a dream come true!" He was told he could start as soon as he got his wife into the church program. His feet throbbed in his shiny black boots, his hands were red and worn under his soft white gloves and his heart smiled under his red flannel shirt. The boss insisted he take some cake home for his wife and gave him a big can of fruit punch.

Walking up the hill, his cheeks were rosy, his blue eyes glistening in the dusky light which had just begun settling over the town.