The myth of Santa Claus does a terrible disservice to the truth: the birth of Christ. Christ gave hard-Corps Marines like me enough of a soft side to hold my fire when the enemy surrenders. That is my call, not that of the Geneva Convention.
Christ gave me enough compassion to realize that a PFC on the other side of my desk for drunk on duty was a POW and came back out of Vietnam deserving not only a few medals, but a month R&R at Kaneohe Bay MCAS, with his family. Then an Honorable Discharge, with back pay which he had earned while he was being pasted daily in the Hanoi Hilton.
Forgive me that I am still a tough as nails Marine Warrant Officer but Christ has softened me enough to keep a patient view with people and that makes a great big difference. It will make that big a difference in you also.
Besides that, Santa Claus flies an experimental aircraft under FAA minimums without a license, powered by Alaskan Caribou if nothing else . . ..
The real story of Saint Nicholas is far more real and moving. He was tortured under Justinian, sat on the Council of Nicaea, is the Patron Saint of Children, Russia, Virgins, and organized charity!
If you really want to give the kids a thrill a minute story of Saint Nicholas, stick with the facts and know that the facts are far more moving than any myth about a jolly elf at the North Pole . . . although we have a C-130 squadron flying out of Fairbanks with Santa Claus letters every year, legally postmarked North Pole.
Of course, every year the US Postal Service is inundated by Santa Claus letters. Most are vain gifts but those from poor families receive their attention. Some ask for a job for Daddy. Some ask for groceries for Mommy. Some ask that Mom or Dad get out of jail. Some ask to meet Mom or Dad because they have spent their lives in foster homes.
There, you and I can make a real difference. Go to the post office, ask for a few Santa Claus letters, and see what you can do.
Maybe you know someone who is hiring. Maybe you know a grocer with a soft spot for widows with children. Maybe you are just damned tired of seeing kids get stiffed at Christmas because nobody gave a rat's behind about them . . . until you came along and took charge in a great big meaningful way.
That, my friends, is Christmas. Take it from a gal who has learned that even the hardest warrior should have a soft spot for kids.
Merry Christ -- mas. And a happy New Year. Don't give till it hurts. Give until it feels great!