Seven-year-old Jay does not – and hasn’t for a while, albeit a short while – believe in Santa Claus.
“‘He’s not real,” the child declared in a recent visit to the newsroom.
When someone asked him about gifts he, in a very matter-of-fact way, let it be known that his mummy and daddy bought the gifts for him at Christmas.
Those of us who know Jay are amazed at, and at the same time frightened by, his straightforwardness. He is a very practical and oftentimes brutally honest child as a few in the newsroom uncomfortably found out.
I love those type of children – from a distance. I tend to avoid children who have not quite developed that sense of a delicate situation. I know my flaws without having some child loudly point them out in a crowd – alone maybe – but not in a public setting.
So whenever Jay enters I have certain instructions for his father.
But on this day in question little Jay took up a position close to me. My pressure went up just a wee bit. I kept an eagle eye on him for at the first sign of trouble, I intended to head him off at the pass.
Instead, the conversation had more to do with Christmas and all its myths and merriment surrounding the suited-up jolly Santa Claus.
Jay was not all impressed with this concept of a big fat man attempting to slide down a chimney. The notion of this jolly fellow, which history credits Coca Cola with singlehandedly commercialising through its creative Christmas ads during the depression period in the United States, is no longer so readily accepted.
First, reasoned Jay, the man was too big and then there was the little matter of chimneys not being part of the Barbadian household landscape.
Getting into his way of reasoning, I reckoned that transporting all those gifts in one night was just not possible, given all the constraints of climate change, night vision and environmental problems.
And doesn’t that naughty or nice list conflict with international human rights or child rights? Shouldn’t every child be entitled to a present according to modern day standards of reward for nothing?
I don’t remember at which point I stopped believing in Santa Claus but it surely was not at age seven. It was years and lots of disappointment later.
In the name of tradition, I passed on the fairy tale of Santa Claus to my daughter who soon got over him.
There are some things I have also left behind. I still do the cleaning and eating but I practise a form of restraint.
Many years ago while sitting in the pews of the Emmanuel Baptist Church, I heard Sister Deborah speak about not following tradition and buying new outfits for Christmas. I thought upon it and that Christmas decided against the new dress and shoes. It has worked for me ever since.
My secret is that I will wear an outfit infrequently during the year and set that aside for Christmas Day. Or, if fortune befalls me and my overseas relatives send clothing my way, I’ll put aside something if it is close enough to the season.
But I have found that not having to look for that Christmas morning outfit has taken a lot of pressure and expense from me, in that I have found another part of the meaning of Christmas.
I’ll still get a hairdo as some things are hard to shake.
This year I am challenged to, in tidying up, give away something that perhaps I would like to keep. It may be shoes, clothing or an expensive trinket, but I intend to give it away. Please note that regrettably, sarcastic teenaged daughters must be kept. The same for confrontational sons.
In the way of food, perhaps I will not buy excessively. Instead of buying things that I know I do not want – but will eat because they are in the house – I will stay clear of.
Antoinette Connell is a News Editor. Email [email protected]
