Who stole Santa?

When I think of the big elf, I’m transported back to my childhood when, every Christmas Eve, I’d pull out my copy of T’was the Night Before Christmas to read. 

Then I’d make a ham sandwich and put it out with a drink for Santa. A well-balanced diet is important and I figured he’d be sick of cookies by the time he got to my place.

At no point did the Santa of my little-girl heart ever hustle a Mercedes or, yeesh, a Chevy. Then again, he didn’t have a daughter who was a corporate executive in New York either. 

He didn’t die falling off a roof, have a bitter older brother named Fred, or go to court to prove his – dare I say it? – Santaty. 

No wonder kids today are so confused and jaded. Each story contradicts the previous. While amusing and yes, occasionally heart-warming, these images are destroying the sanctity of Santa.

Maybe I’m too sensitive on the subject.  But for decades, children went to sleep with visions of sugarplums … sugar-wha? … anyway, dancing in their heads. They were surrounded in the security that if they behaved, a mystical man would fulfill all their dreams by morning.

And what did they call him?  No, not just Santa Claus. He went by St. Nicholas – a freaking saint, people! And Father Christmas. Do you want to mess with Daddy?

Despite the initial honours bestowed, by 2011 he’s been shanghaied for the latest Movie of the Week and forced into commercial labour by advertisers. 

His early Canadian Tire cameos were bad enough as he encouraged shoppers to “Give like Santa.  Save like Scrooge.” But now he’s relegated to personally cruising the aisles for the best deals.

Meanwhile, YouTube videos are turning Papa Noel into a peeping Tom in the window. Another has him coming through the TV screen à la Poltergeist. 

Does this mean they’re finally proving his existence for the nay-sayers? Of course not. Everyone knows that you can’t videotape something that moves at the speed of Christmas lights.

Where is the respect? Did it disappear with Frank Capra? Every element of the Santa Claus mystique has been sold to the highest bidder. 

The North Pole has been trampled by Hollywood and those poor reindeer are in survival mode. 

And don’t get me started on the poor elves sold into retail slavery for the sake of Verizon Wireless. We’ve all seen the ads with their ultra-white workspace. 

They’ll be snowblind before the first cookie break!

I appreciate the attempt to keep the holiday spirit alive despite our attachment to the bottom line. But can we leave Santa Claus alone? 
He’s got enough to do between now and Christmas Eve. And I, for one, don’t want to get on his bad side.