TANGENTS: The Club Kid membership card doesn’t have to expire

TANGENTS By John Saccenti Never too old for Santa.

   There have been two periods of my life when I believed in Santa Claus.
   The first, of course, was when I was in that not-so-exclusive club of children who believed in the bearded man in red with the same unerring conviction that we had when we believed our parents would catch us if we crossed the street without permission. I lived most of my days with a suppressed tingle of giddiness that erupted at the mere mention of December, or Christmas or at the sound of jingles and the sight of those dusty old boxes of decorations in the attic.
   This was a good time for me. My golden age. When every Christmas was a mystery, every package a hit and regardless of my wish list, every year a success.
   But as age slowly revoked my membership to Club Kid, I began to see that the requirements for living were changing, and that if I wanted to enter my next level of evolution successfully and join the adult world, I’d have to stop believing in Santa Claus.
   This mysterious club of adulthood was not without its advantages, including driving, girls and unlimited TV privileges. However, sacrifices had to be made, and Santa, along with that old that tingly Christmas feeling, were heaved into the back of my closet with nary a rumble from either of them.
   It should be noted that that Christmas tingle wasn’t completely thrown aside, but merely replaced with one that, while fine and good, had a decided lack of magic. It was almost as if I had received the long-sought-after pair of X-ray specs I’d wanted as a kid. I could see through everything. The truth was there. My eyes had been opened.
   But the truth isn’t all its cracked up to be and Christmas just wasn’t the same. Slowly, yearly, those mandatory vacation days became the chief end of Christmas. Time off, not whether or not Santa ate the cookies I left out, were my new priority. My new, clear, adult sight showed me that Santa, that former bastion of childhood magic, was little more than a gimmick, a creation of Coca-Cola to sell soda.
   And there were other differences. Small for sure, but there nonetheless. Gifts from the corner 5 and 10 would no longer do. It had to be Sears, Macys, K-Mart, and the gifts had to be clever, smart and fun. It became a stressful time, where giving and getting remained noble, but annoying activities, and I grew exhausted. For a time, I couldn’t wait to get to the whole Christmas ordeal behind me.
   The second period of my life when I believed in Santa Claus is now.
   Having realized that I wasn’t one bit the better for forsaking the man in red, I decided on bold action.
   It happened a few years ago during the summer. I was standing in my kitchen on a hot July afternoon wondering why the air conditioning wasn’t on when it hit me. I couldn’t wait for Christmas. And then there was the tingle. Not the new one, the old one, with all the magic. The one that you get when you believe. And suddenly, the centerpiece of Christmas — Mr. Claus, since we’re still adults — was back.
   I let myself go for a minute and it was done. I had decided to let myself believe in Santa Claus again. That old familiar feeling of childhood bliss came upon me like a tidal wave. The mystery, the surprise, the awe. It was all there. Goodbye shopper’s anxiety, and hello visions of sugarplums.
   I couldn’t believe how easy it was. But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised considering how many other unprovable things I believe in, like how I am forever doomed to not own a Harley-Davidson, or that I will never win the lottery. But, believe me when I say that I couldn’t be better for the change.
   Before I’m chastised, I do realize that Christmas is a deeply religious day, and that part has always been there. But Christmas just wasn’t the same without Santa and elves and the North Pole.
   Now, unfortunately or not, I am still one of the adults in my house, and believing in Santa doesn’t actually get you out of shopping, or paying the bills.
   But, doing that stuff is a lot easier now, since I know that with every check I write, I’m getting a little Christmas magic in return.
John Saccenti is news editor of the South Brunswick Post and The Cranbury Press. He can be reached via e-mail at [email protected].