Santa Baby

When I went to elementary school I was not a big fan of Santa Claus. My neighborhood was diverse. We had social housing, low-income housing, and some lovely and pricey homes all surrounding our little school. My classmates were all colors of the rainbow and there was one thing that separated us all: Santa Claus.

Did Santa bring better gifts to "good" children?

You see, we were told that Santa brought Christmas gifts to children based on how good they were all year. In grade one, my friend Frida received homemade woolen scarves and socks. Itchy stuff. My other friend Richard had gotten some model cars that he called dinkies. The best part was that the doors and trunks opened. Marvelous! Sandy shared her jacks and ball with us and we played at recess together. Sweet!

Robbie lived in a house with a baby grand piano in the opulent living room. When he came to class he was decked out in new clothes, brand name waterproof boots, and leather gloves. He talked about his winter vacation to a place I had never been to before and told us about the new sound system and TV in his playroom. I was confused.

I was mad at Santa

You see, Frida was the most hard-working kid in our class. She’d help me with homework when I was stuck. Richard was kind, always giving a helping hand, and if you were having a bad day he always found a way to make you laugh. Robbie was athletic and always on the ball, but was he “good-er”? In my six-year-old mind not at all, but he got all the swag.

Frida was still the smartest in class, Richard still the most caring, but Robbie had all the cards. Pricey NHL signed trading cards, mind you. The kind you can look at but not touch. It’s a big lesson for a little girl to realize that doing good does not always end in getting all the good stuff.

I was mad at Santa for not seeing the good in my friends. Mad about Frida’s itchy skin and Richard’s toy car that broke the second time we played with it.

We do not always get what we deserve in life

My friend Sandy brought in homemade gingerbread cookies and shared them with the class. She told me that Christmas is about giving so she made them last night with her stepmom. She whispered to me that Santa wasn’t a real thing, no matter what everyone said.

As I choked down the truth and mourned a person I never truly met I realized that she was right. I begged my mom to buy some candy canes and shared them with the class the next day.

This may be a stretch, but follow me here. We do not always get what we deserve in life. There’s a whole host of reasons why. Some are more obvious than others. Cancer affects people indiscriminately. Cancer treatment can be a lot like Santa Claus, some get a whole lot of care and some barely scrape by. It’s not a function of the good the person has done in life, but a function of the opportunities available to them. Getting sick does not make us bad people any more than those fancy NHL cards made Robbie a good person. Our self-worth is not bound by the rewards, but by our actions.

A deep appreciation this season

This Christmas season I’ll be thankful for the second full molecular response my chemo treatment has achieved. I know this is precious and that it is not something experienced by many. There will be no fancy gifts or expensive winter vacays, just a deep appreciation.

My family and I have decided not to exchange gifts in these lean times, but to share baked goods, old school. I have never been more grateful. To those who think that Santa has not been good to me, remember that some gifts are beyond measure. Take a minute, if you will, and share what precious gifts you’ve received. In the Christmas Spirit, I’d love to hear about everyone. Happy holidays to all.