When I was a little girl, my parents took me to see the Christmas decorations on the streets which, in addition to twinkling lights and decorated trees, also included a small crowd of Santa Clauses. Nothing special, a prosaic family activity that my older sister loved, as did most children. Most, but not me.

The memories I have of that first encounter with the street Santas are one of those blurred memories we have of events from our early childhood, but the impact that the experience had on me was so strong that I can still feel it vividly today, and I can only describe it as fear and amazement.

Fear because they were obviously impostors, trying to pass themselves off as the real Santa Claus. and amazement because the adults seemed not to realize that, if there was a Santa Claus on every corner, they could only be copies of the real one, the true Santa, who would never stay on the sidewalk shouting out promotions for a shoe shop.

To make things even worse, they insisted that I should sit on the lap of one of the fakeSantas and have a picture taken! Were adults really that stupid? Apparently, yes.

If the adults who were supposed to protect me seemed not to realize the danger (who were those men in red with fake beards, anyway?), then it was up to me to get out of that situation. I was alone in my mission to unmask the fraudsters and I resisted bravely, fighting with the weapons I had at the time, crying and probably kicking a bit, too. It had some effect, I guess. At least, not a single photo with Santa Claus. And, by the way, I also learned not to trust people who pretend to be what they are not.

You might think that I was a very suspicious little girl and that I did not experience the magic of Christmas, but I prefer to believe that I was, in fact, a very smart little girl, who was not easily fooled and had an admirable sense of survival.

I certainly did not doubt the existence Santa Claus, quite the opposite, but my Santa Claus, the one who inhabited my mind and heart as a child, was a transcendental, powerful being, and he did not even remotely resemble those poorly made copies that were certainly not the responsible ones for the presents I found under the Christmas tree in the living room on the morning of the 25th.

Probably many other kids have cried the first time the met a street Santa or questioned the profusion of Santa Clauses on the streets, I was just more determined than average and did not give in.

This Christmas, I wish you the determination of that little girl and the discernment to distinguish the true magic of Christmas, the one you cannot explain but feel deep in your heart, from the false promises and the meaningless “ho-ho-hos”.

Merry Christmas.

Be seeing you!

G. F.