CHRISTMAS LETTER 2019
“Finding Santa”
Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house,
The bakery was closed now, for all the cookies were sold out.
the stockings were hung, cookies and milk prepared,
Excited we placed them for when Santa got there.
Marty and I nestled all snug in our beds,
While visions of Christmas-morn’ danced in our heads.
Mom on the couch, dad in the chair,
Soon to their bed they would trek up the stairs.
as I lay in my bed this particular Christmas eve night,
No one else had a clue that something — just wasn’t right.
It was Christmas Eve of 1994, I was a creative and imaginative little boy of 10 years old. Christmas was always my favorite time of year, it was ingrained into me from my very first memory. I had always loved when December rolled around. I baked cookies, I helped put up decorations, I wrote letters to Santa, and when the 24th rolled around I made sure we put out our cookies and milk for Santa, carrots for the reindeer, and a note to Santa thanking him for coming again to visit. Like clockwork I did everything just as we usually would, but, this year I did my best to not let my family know what I truly was feeling… did the man in the big red suit -- the man who’s cheeks were like roses and nose like a cherry, whose belly shook like a bowl full of jelly…St. Nick, Father Christmas… did he TRULY Exist???
Christmas was a high holiday in my family, my grandparents did an awe inspiring job of making Christmas beyond special for us kids. My grandparents were a special couple. Gramps; a true man of his time, a retired air force drill sergeant, who ran his home, his garden, and his successful Grocery business as if he was still that stern drill sergeant. Grams also came from a hard working family, but was able to keep her beloved smile and silly heart that we all loved. if you looked hard enough, you could see the power source of the Christmas spirit in that Irish twinkle in her eyes. it was that twinkle in her eyes, that like alluring magic, so easily welcomed strangers, cultivated friendships, and without words assured her family how much we were loved. Though grandpa’s reputation of being large and in-charge preceded him, there was never a doubt in our hearts of how much he loved his family. If one were to pay close attention you could catch the Christmas spirit spontaneously combust out of Gramps in the most random of moments. HIS silly heart would more often show as Christmas got closer. It was more common for him to be found randomly singing and dancing with cheer, he would have more of a holiday jig in his step.
The Christmas season began like clockwork each year. Starting sometime in the month of October, Grams would lock up the back room in their house, and that was the first giveaway that Christmas time was near. We never knew when, exactly, it would happen but one day Grams would say:
“Ok boys, I’ve locked up the back room until Christmas”.
This was our stern warning to go nowhere near the back room for fear that if we did, come Christmas, there wouldn’t be a single gift under the tree for us. All of a sudden the back room that we knew suddenly turned into a mysterious type of paradise that housed the spirit and magic of Christmas just like the North pole. This room is where grams would store and wrap the Christmas gifts for not only all of our family, but her friends, and for those people she had adopted as honorary family members. Grams’ gift of decoration flowed through to her ornately wrapped gifts. She wielded a glue gun like a painters hand flowed with a brush. Each gifts corners were perfectly pressed. Starbursts of bows and garland adorned the focal point of her gift wrapping. I’m now confident that with each stroke of her glue gun, Grams’ silly heart knew it made it more difficult for us to open our gifts, and with that she got more glee and entertainment out of watching us trying to open them. She picked out wrapping paper like a tailor would jury out the best fabric. When you received a gift wrapped by my grandmother you knew that she spent as much time making sure the packaging was beautiful as she did picking out the gift. You knew that her gift wrapping was a masterpiece of art in itself.
The day after thanksgiving is when the decorations went up at the house on Nottingham. The sleigh and wooden reindeer went up led by Mr. Claus himself. All so perfectly lit in the middle of the front yard.
“I don't know boys, I think this is the last year we will put up Clause” grandpa would say every year, but as the next year came around Santa would faithfully go up with our help.
The tree in the main family room went up with its handmade wooden ornaments brought back from one of their trips to Germany in the early 80’s. The living room shelf would transform from shelves that held Grams’ nicknacks, trinkets, and music boxes, to shelves of Christmas animated and battery powered toys. One of my favorite things to help put up was my grandmother’s rather large collection of Clothtique Santa’s. The construction of the Christmas decorations, though always a stressful task, seemed to bring out the best in my grandfather.
If it's not already evident, the deep roots of my Christmas spirit were planted by all the things my grandparents did for us, which is why it's so perfect that this specific year my grams began teaching me from where the true beacon of Christmas poured its magic, powering our Christmas spirit.
In no way did I want to stop believing in the man in the big red suit, but thanks to older and wiser kids at school I decided I no longer believed. As Christmas got closer and closer that year I was more and more distant when it came to talking about Santa. I tried to stay very removed from the whole Clause subject. As much as I didn't want anyone to find out I secretly deep down hoped Grams would catch on to what was bothering me.
Finally one December afternoon Grams just came out and asked me as we were sitting in the inclosed back porch:
“What's bothering my Tony Today?”
“Well gram,” I replied, “I don't think I believe in Santa this year”
Grams paused a moment calculating her next move, so I told her how some older kids at school were laughing about how there were kids that still believed in Santa, and how since I had already figured out the tooth fairy and the Easter bunny I just no longer believed.
Grams smiled that Irish smile that was always so comforting to see.
“Of course you figured out the Easter bunny and the tooth fairy, you're a smart boy, but even I still believe in Santa!” Grams said.
“DON!” She bellowed from the porch into the house to my grandfather sitting in the living room.
“Yes, Gert?” He replied.
Gert, short for Gertrude, her middle name, was a nickname he used for grams sometimes is a puckish yet endearing manner.
“Don,” she said as he stood at the doorway of the porch, “you believe in Santa don’t you?”
“Of course I believe in ole’ Clause!” he blurted back, with a sheepish and inquisitive look in his eyes, never knowing exactly what my grandmother was scheming.
“See… Even your grandpa believes in Santa!” She said to me with a joyful smile on her face.
She could obviously see I was confused and trying to figure out how they could possibly believe, and how I was unsure of what I believed, because then she looked at me with a very serious look and said something that would embark me on my quest to find Santa. Something she would also end up saying to my brother years later.
“So… would you rather tell your brother and ruin the excitement for him, or would you like to help make the magic happen?”
Excitedly, but without any clue of what could possibly happen next I blurted out; “I want to help make the magic happen!”
“Ok, let's GO!” she said as she extended her hand to take mine.
As I took her hand she eagerly led me to the back room, that up to this point, entrance had been forbidden to me. It was a threshold I dare not cross for fear of a gift-less Christmas.
“Wait here,” she said as we got to the french doors with frosted and beveled glass.
Though I had seen the room before many times when it wasn’t in Christmas mode, I stood at the doorway with my imagination running rampant with ideas of what it could possibly look like inside. From inside, I could hear shuffling and wrestling around as she prepared for me to set foot inside this magical land where Christmas dreams came true! Finally, Grams emerged from the gateway to Christmas Land, and as the french doors opened it was like I had stepped right into Santa's workshop. Along the Eastern wall of the room were stacks upon stacks of meticulously wrapped gifts glittering and gleaming from the shiny wrapping paper and sparkly adornments of tinsel and bows of all shapes sizes, and all colors of the rainbow.
Prior to this moment, this gorgeous display was all that was familiar to my childhood memories. When Saturday night of our family Christmas festivities arrived each year, once we returned to their house after church and dinner, Grams would call us kids to come back and bring the gifts from the back room to the main family living room. Once all the gifts were distributed to the proper owner Grams said, “GO!” , and flying bows and wrapping paper shreds would fill the air as grandpa struggled to gather it all into garbage bags.
Once I was able to take my eyes away from this mountainous wall of gifts, I started to see the rest of the room where the true magic happened. Along the western wall, sat stacks of shopping bags full of gifts and supplies for Grams to do her magic. Along the southern wall is where the gifts were organized and labeled with post-it notes who it was for, reminders to buy batteries, and sometimes a note with which wrapping paper she wanted to use with that gift. Along the Northern Wall was the storage area for Grama-Clause’s workshop. Containers full of ribbons and bows, all sizes and colors of wrapping paper, boxes for wrapping, bulk amounts of tape, tissue paper, and tinsel were organized along the wall. In center of the room sat Grams' work table filled with the needed tools and accoutrements; Tape, scissors, ribbon cutters/shredders/curlers, and like a chef wields his knife, her multiple sizes of Glue guns sat meticulously placed ready fo her to grab as needed.
“Was this where I would find Santa?” I couldn’t help but ask myself.
Grams proceeded to show me all of her work like the master showing the apprentice. The remaining days and weeks leading up to the family party I helped Grams wrap all the remaining gifts, stuffed the stockings, as well as all the other usual things we would do to prepare for the wonderful Schramm gathering! I had yet to find my belief in Santa again, but at-least I was able to be one of his “Helpers”.
Finally the weekend arrived, the weekend of the Big Schramm extravaganza. For every year that grandpa was a grocer, our party always fell on the weekend before the week before Christmas. Many family members worked for him and the week before Christmas was the busiest week of the year. The weekend before was always the easiest to get everyone together. Bluffing through the family Christmas party was easy, due to the overwhelming whirlwind that was our Schramm family Christmas weekend. How could I not be bursting with Christmas cheer when our family gathered? So, it was super easy to not show my wavering belief in Santa, even when Father Christmas himself came for a visit as he did every year. The true challenge would be getting through Christmas Eve and Christmas Day without breaking my cover.
Christmas Eve arrived and my performance began, I was not about to let my brother find out what I knew, regardless of what I believed. We put out our cookies and milk, we wrote our note, and we woke up on Christmas morning to gifts from Santa just like we did every year. I wasn’t about to ruin the magic of Christmas for him. Christmas came and went that year and Marty wasn't the wiser. I had preserved the magic of Christmas for him and it felt good. However, to say that just because I helped Grams wrap some gifts I found what I was looking for would be a farce.
As years progressed the time came where my brother Marty admitted to Grams, that he had found the exact gift he asked Santa for in my parents closet, and that he too no longer believed. Though I was a bit more hopeful when I told Grams I no longer believed, Marty however was a bit more angry and disappointed. Grams called Marty over to her lap in the same fashion she said to him:
“Marty, I know you’re disappointed, but, you have a baby brother and two younger cousins, you don’t want to ruin the magic for them do you?”
“…No…” Marty said sheepishly and hesitantly.
“Ok Then,” Gram smiled, “how about you help make the magic happen?”
“Ok!" Marty replied, as you could see the excitement slowly return to his face.
Grams replied, “So put a smile on your face and a song in your heart”
Grams then kissed Marty and then rubbed her chin into his neck which would always make us laugh and squirm. Gram then reached for her purse, she grabbed her monthly planner where she kept all of her appointments, and revealed two ornament shaped pieces of construction paper with a piece of ribbon connected to them. Written on the red ornament was: “BOY 9-11yrs," written on the green ornament was: “BOY 12-14yrs”. She handed the red one to Marty, and to me she handed the green ornament.
“I want you both to hold onto these.” She said, “We are all going to go for a drive, and when we arrive at our destination I will tell you what these are for.”
We grabbed our coats and off we went, Gram, Gramps, Marty, and I. as we arrived at Toys R Us, Gram gave us our instructions:
“Ok boys, Pull out the ornaments I gave you. These ornaments are from the giving tree at church. We are going to go in and pick out a toy or two for a child that is your age, to give a less fortunate child a good Christmas. We aren’t picking out anything for ourselves today. We are getting gifts for a total stranger, and can you imagine how excited these kids will be to get a special Christmas gift this year?”
We rushed inside because there was something about picking out a toy for someone our age that made it just as exciting as picking out a toy for ourselves. Once we picked out the toy, and Grams approved, we rushed home. Gram then let us help wrap them and take them to the church, and place them under the giving tree. This then became a tradition we would do every year throughout our teenage years.
As each years went by, I would help do more and more, as Grams could do less and less. With each year she would let Marty and I be a part of something special in the making of our family Christmas. It was in these years that my trek for Santa was completed. With each passing year I would see my family come in for our big event and each year I would see their faces enjoy this special homecoming. Our family Christmas was truly a combination of “A Wonderful life," “White Christmas," and a Norman Rockwell painting, with a hint of the Grizwalds. With each special moment that happened, Grams would just give me a WINK, and as if my heart had just seen the true face of Santa, I would be filled with the Magic. One year, Marty and I even did a photo shoot of me in a Santa suit, to give to our youngest brother Michael, to show him photographic proof that Santa came that year.
I don’t remember exactly what year it was, but, the year that my heart truly realized that I had found Santa again, my grandmother gave me the best gift ever. One random day when I cam to visit, Gram asked for my help in the garage. She asked me to pull down the boxes with the Clothtique Santas from the shelf in the garage. I thought this was an odd request because it wasn't time to set up the Santas yet. Once I got them all down, Grams smiled at me and said:
“Tony, I think it’s time for you to take the Santas. I love you so much, and want you to have them.”
Tears began to well up in my eyes as I profusely thanked Grams, and promised to take good care of them. In the deepest part of my heart I wasn’t sure if I was ready for what this truly meant. A few year later after this gift Grams was gone. A year after that Gramps was gone, and the time had come to sell the house on Nottingham, so my family all decided we would have one last Christmas on Nottingham, where we ALL learned the true meaning of Christmas.
How could I possibly pull it off? How could I get through the sorrow of Gram & Gramps not being here to make it one last Christmas “Like it used to be”? Somehow, we did it. I rallied my brothers together and we went to work. I cleaned the Christmas plates and polished the silver, Marty and his wife Andrea fluffed and decorated the tree, Michael set up the train. He also fixed and put batteries in all of the Christmas toys of our childhood. All of the Christmas pictures were hung, Christmas light were strung, and the sleigh and reindeer were placed in the front yard. The culmination of this hard work was glorified when the family came in just as they had so many times before. Though, the difference this year, was what every single person said the minute they walked in.
“It looks just like it did all those years ago!”
We even had a visit from good ol’ St. Nick, that christmas, that came with gifts and a special message for our family to honor my grandparents and help us through such a difficult Christmas. All of our hearts began the healing process that Christmas, last year. My heart had also arrived at the summit of my personal trek to find the Santa I was seeking. When in a time of reflection, I had realized, as tears flowed freely down my cheeks, that THIS was the Christmas that my grandmother had been preparing me for all those years before.
It didn’t take me all those years to realize what it meant to find Santa. However, not until last Christmas did I realize the entirety of how I now truly had become the Santa that I was seeking. Traditions change. The new ones may be scary even as they are grand, and if you know what Christmas means to you, the traditions are just the wrapping on the true Christmas gift.
I am honored and proud to say I now am a True Believer. Should you have a chance to make it to the North Pole and look in Santa’s red suede bound and gilded lettered book of names, you will see that I come from an Immense family tree of true believers. To be a true believer in Santa one must believe in and exert the ability to inspire others with Christmas cheer. To be a true believer in Santa one must believe that it is truly better to give than to receive. To be a true believer in Santa one must find joy in giving away the presents of love and understanding. To be a true believer in Santa one much go on their own trek , to find the Santa that resides within.
You NEVER forget your first year AS Santa.
As the Carols sing, “Santa knows that we’re Gods children so that makes everything right”
If one pays close enough attention, just like finding the true Santa, we can find a relationship with our living lord and savior. Christ is ALIVE today at the right hand of our still speaking God. Take time in the silence to hear the still small voice of the kingdom of God which is constantly calling you. Whoever you are you ARE welcome, you ARE worthy, you ARE good in his sight. You can and will find his voice if you are willing to diligently seek him. Don’t put the kingdom of God in a mere Christmas box, but be aware that there is more than one way to seek a direct connection with the Kingdom. Where ever you are on life’s journey you are welcome here. As you go forth this year it is my prayer for you that you Go forth into the world with peace. Be of good courage. Hold fast to that which is good. Render to no one evil for evil. Strengthen the faint hearted. Support the weak. Help the afflicted. Honor ALL People, while rejoicing in the power of the Holy Spirit.