There are some beliefs you embrace in your life that just take all kinds of work before you un-believe them. I had particular problems with Santa Claus.
A lot of my early life was spent growing up in an apartment
in Manhattan.
We lived on the second floor. Every Christmas Eve, after supposedly going to
bed, I would open my bedroom window (letting in the cold air in the dead of
winter) twist my neck around, and look up in the sky to see if there were a
sleigh, reindeer, etc. Yes, I did worry about the logistical difficulties of
how Santa was going to noiselessly deliver the toys, especially when there were
nine floors of apartments above.
I didn’t usually get what I wanted for Christmas – not
because we were especially poor or I had mean parents – it’s just that I wanted
impossible things most of the time.
There was not nearly as much trouble un-believing in the
Easter Bunny or the Tooth Fairy – the latter in particular. When I was in bed
but still awake, a family member would walk into the bedroom and slip a quarter
under the pillow. If an older brother did this, he sometimes didn’t take care
to tiptoe or consider how gently to shove the pillow aside to deposit the
quarter, but I feigned sleep anyway. (What’s the fairy ponying up these days,
$5?)
But Santa Claus – that was a tough one. I was at a rather
advanced age (I won’t admit to the number here) before the breaking news was
given to me about his reality. I did not take it well. I think most precious but
erroneous beliefs are like that. We have to go through a mourning period when
they die, just as we do when a real person close to us passes.
Yes, reality does indeed bite! But it occurs to me that those
discarded fantasies leave their traces behind, and they will always be a part
of us, evolving as we age, often materializing in forms other than the ones we
outlined. Some of our dreams will actually come true, when the time is right. I
think when all is said and done, Santa figures out how to deliver the goods.
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