Santa Claus story represents dreams

Column by CJ Conklin

I will never forget the Christmas of 1998. I was on the brink of turning 10, meaning that I had been hearing rumors that Santa Claus was not real for nearly two years (older siblings ruin everything), but I never believed a word of it. After all, every Christmas, Santa had brought me something. Maybe it wasn’t exactly what I wanted, but it was something.

Besides, Santa Claus has been showing up to my house on Christmas Eve every year since I was seven. Every year we plan our entire evening around his arrival and anxiously anticipate his presence. And every year he does not disappoint, showing up with a bag full of presents, a white beard that even Grizzly Adams would be jealous of and a red suit that reflects off the white snow.

But in 1998 I saw something that, for the first time ever, gave me doubt. I was standing at the door, impatiently awaiting Santa’s arrival, when I saw a Corolla scoot up the street. A man in a full red suit got out and proceeded to walk toward our house.

Then, to my even greater astonishment, the man reached in the trunk of my mom’s car and pulled out a sack of presents, threw it over his shoulder and entered our house.

I stayed up for hours that night, wondering if my eyes had deceived me. Was it be true that Santa wasn’t who he said he was?  Were the way movies and stories perceived him not what really existed?  It wasn’t until years later that I realized the truth.

My little sister was so proud to tell everyone that Santa Claus was not real the year she “found out.” But for some reason, even after years of knowing, it pained me to see her give up on believing. And so I spent that entire Christmas trying to convince her that the man in red was as real as the presents he brought. Whether she bought into or not is beyond me, but something else happened: I bought into it.

I realized Santa Claus was more than a fat man with a long beard (I can see one of those on couches all across America every Sunday football is on).  Furthermore, he was more than just another source of presents other than those underneath the tree.

I finally realized why my Mom, who at the young age (you’re welcome, Mom) of 30, made such a big deal about Santa coming every year.

She never wanted to be the one to tell us something we believed was real wasn’t. Maybe he doesn’t fly a reindeer-drawn sled, or climb down the chimney when everyone’s asleep, but he does show up every year just so he doesn’t disappoint us.

He would never want a child, or anyone for that matter, to think that something they believe in is fake.

Santa Claus represents the idea that if you believe in something, only you can determine its reality. He represents every dream that we don’t give up on because we know that it can become reality.

No person has the right to tell another that something they believe in is not real, or could never become real.

Maybe Santa hasn’t been to your house in a while, and maybe you stopped believing in him years ago when you “found out.” But what did you stop believing in?

Was it that a man in a red suit climbs down your chimney on Christmas, or was it that anything you believe could be real is?

CJ Conklin is an accounting and finance junior. E-mail opinions@kykernel.com.