I'm a Believer!

I'm wondering . . .

“You better watch out, better not cry, better not pout I’m telling you why, Santa Claus is coming to town.” This iconic song by J. Fred Coots and Haven Gillespie became an immediate hit when it was played on Eddie Cantor’s radio show in November 1934. Within twenty-four hours, orders had been placed for 500,000 copies of the sheet music and more than 30,000 records. Those were the good old days, when families gathered around the piano instead of heading to their respective screens at the end of the day. Ah, but I digress.

Our modern-day version of Santa Claus, based on the sainted Nicholas of the third century, has been shaped by Clement Moore (The Night Before Christmas), political cartoonist Thomas Nast, and Coots and Gillespie – and Rudolph! I’m glad to report that the man, the myth and the legend continues to be in good hands as Dan and Becky teach the sweet Emma Belle, now age two and a half. No piano or record player is responsible for perpetuating the message in their home, nor are Bruce Springsteen or Bing Crosby crooning away – instead, there’s a Santa Spy Cam in Emma’s house, keeping an eye on her day and night. Because we know, thanks to that song from 1934, that “he sees you when you’re sleeping, he knows when you’re awake, he knows if you’ve been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake.”

Naughty or nice. It’s been a challenge to humans since the beginning of life. Religions use the concept, as Judeo-Christian teachings paint the contrast between sin and righteousness, as does Islam and Hinduism. Contemporary parents use it with the hope of regulating behavior so their children won’t get kicked out of nursery school. We teach the difference between good and bad behavior to our kids, but spending time with Emma and the charming Henry Kyle makes it obvious – there is also an innate sense of right and wrong. They know. Even Gracie, Emma’s four-month-old Bernedoodle, knows when she grabs Emma’s toy and runs away. Moore may have suggested St. Nicholas was a “right jolly old elf,” but he does help out a parent from time to time as well. What kid wants to be on the “naughty” list? Not me!

When I was a small child, we’d make sure we were watching Channel 4 each weekday at 5 pm for a visit from Santa Claus and his friends – Grumbles the Elf, Freezy the Polar Bear, and my favorite, Forgetful the Elf. Might they read my letter to Santa on the show today, I wondered? I was doubtful, as Miss Molly never called out my name on Romper Room.

Emma doesn’t have to park in front of the television at supper time, hopeful that Santa will see her. Instead, he calls her up at night on her mom’s cellphone, talking to her as a dear friend. Becky tells me it’s an app, some newfangled way to tell the story of Santa.

In 1897, eight-year-old Virginia O’Hanlon wrote to the New York Sun newspaper. “Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus. Papa says, “If you see it in THE SUN it’s so. Please tell me the truth; is there a Santa Claus?”

The response came quickly from long-time newsman Francis Pharcellus Church. “Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. . . A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.”

I’m eager to report that Santa Claus is continuing to make glad the heart of childhood, whether gathered around the piano or a cellphone – and before we know it, around a Christmas tree. As Church told Virginia, any who doubt his existence “have been affected by skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except they see.” I may no longer stand on my bed for hours, staring off into the night sky on Christmas Eve, hoping for a sighting of Santa, but, as the Monkees sang, “I’m a believer.”