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I asked my father what his earliest memory of Santa was. I remember I was about four years old — I was in preschool. My father worked in the tool and die department of American Optical Company with about 100 guys, and they did lots of stuff for the families. They had a children’s Christmas party at the Hamilton Rod and Gun club in Sturbridge, Massachusetts at the north end of Cedar Lake. The club was a lodge-type building with an upstairs and a downstairs. The upstairs was a dining area with two or three rows of tables about 30 or 40 feet long and then a front porch, and the basement was like a game room with a knotty pine wood bar. I remember being there for a Christmas party, and we drove up there, just my father and I, and when we got to the place, it was dark. We went inside and all of the kids were downstairs in the basement and we watched movies. They were Christmas movies, and they showed Santa Claus flying through the sky with Rudolph and landing on rooftops. We watched movies for a good long time, and we had candy canes and stuff. Then it was time to have dinner for the fathers and the children, so we marched upstairs toward the dining area, but first they brought us out on the porch, and there was the biggest Christmas tree I have ever seen in my life — it was huge. I was spellbound by the size of this thing. Then it started to snow, and it was those big, big, big snowflakes, and I could hear sleigh bells in the background. And up through the parking lot comes a horse-drawn sleigh with Santa in it, and he got out and came up on the porch, where all of us children were standing, and it was the Ho Ho Ho — it was so real it was unbelievable. We all got presents out of this big bag that Santa had, and our names were on them and everything. He knew everybody in the room. After we started opening our gifts, he was gone. To this day, I don’t know who that Santa Claus was.

Brandon is my nephew. Like many boys his age, he’s focused on toys and play time. Ever meet Santa? I never met him, but I heard him once. I heard a buncha deer on Christmas Eve. When I was three, I met the fake Santa at the mall and by mistake I pulled off his beard. It went back on, and all he said was hey. Then he asked me what I wanted. Last Christmas I saw a bunch of Santa dudes. They were like dinga linga ling with those bells. People were putting money in the thingamajig. They say Have a good Christmas, and then I say You too. One time I was looking out the window, and my parents weren’t there, and I thought that Santa just left. I thought I saw some breath steam coming off the roof. Something did stink like deer. What do you think of Santa? He’s pretty cool. Technically, he might need to go to a weight-loss clinic, but he’s pretty cool. Think you’ll see him this year? Hopefully, because last year my sister tried to wake up early to see if Santa Claus does exist, but when we got up, all we saw were a bunch of filled stockings and presents.  If you could tell Santa anything, what would it be? I’d like to have… you’ve heard of the TIE fighters in Star Wars, right? Well I want a TIE pilot, cause I don’t have one. That’s what you’d tell Santa if you had the chance to tell him anything at all? I might want more Star Wars things like a sand trooper, a snow trooper. I just like the bad guys more than the good guys. Do you think Santa deserves a year off? No. What could be so hard about making your deer land on it [the roof] and then barely walking to the chimney and then just jumping down the chimney or tapping your nose and falling through the roof? I never even saw the guy. Yet.

Betty Jane is my mother-in-law. I asked her for her earliest Santa memory. My first encounter with Santa was in the basement of our church when I was in second or third grade. We were having one of those little Sunday school shows, where you sang those little Sunday school songs and everything. Nobody ever expected Santa Claus. Even when I look back I’m surprised, because Santa Claus is almost a verboten in our church. They don’t even talk about him — I have to be careful what card I send to my minister, that kind of thing. There was a small stage in the basement, and our parents were there, and we were all just sitting in our seats when the Sunday school director came up and said, I have one more surprise for everybody. And here Santa Claus came bounding out onto the stage, waving and ho-hoing and everything. And the kids, we just all went crazy, because we never expected him. We all got in a long line waiting to get up on the stage and talk to him. We were laughing and giggling, jumping up and down and squealing — it was so much wilder than you would have at a department store, because it was such a surprise and in church, it felt kind of forbidden. It was him he was up there and we just couldn’t believe it. We kept saying to each other, It’s him! It’s him! It’s him! and by the time we got up on stage, it changed to It’s you! It’s you! and he handed out little presents to everybody. I remember looking around for my mother, looking for direction on how I should behave during all this, but she was just laughing at having a good time, so I guess I was allowed to be rambunctious. Also, my mom used to buy us presents that we could wrap up for my dad. I look back on this with some shame, but she always picked out a carton of Lucky Strikes. And I would wrap up this carton of Lucky Strikes for him, and he always acted real surprised that he got it. He told me many years later that usually by the time he opened it, he said, Bets, I snuck in there and probably the carton was half gone by the time Christmas rolled around. Because he didn’t see going to the store and buying more cigarettes when he knew he had a stash already under the tree.

It all started back in 2001 when I wrote a Christmas poem called “Redneck Christmas Carol.” My wife, Megan, and I recorded the poem complete with sound effects and background music. We sent the song to our friends and family. Fast forward to Christmas 2004. I had written some lyrics to a song I called “South of the Border Santa,” and sent those lyrics to my father-in-law, Robert Peckman. Robert is a really talented musician who has written and recorded a lot of excellent music. I asked him if he wanted to write some music and record “South of the Border Santa.” Being a responsible artist, he needed to take a look at the lyrics first. When he saw the level of maturity involved, he simply said, “sure.” We spent a good part of Christmas Eve day in 2004 recording this song in his studio at his house in Pittsburgh. I do a lot of radio interviews, especially around Halloween and I’ve become friendly with some of the hosts who have interviewed me about all things ghostly. In December I contacted some of those hosts and offered them this song to play on the air. Against their better judgment, some of these radio shows started playing “South of the Border Santa.” If you’d like to listen to either of these “artistic accomplishments” in MP3 format, you can download them here: http://www.jeffbelanger.com/santa/ Enjoy!

Howie Adams played Santa every year at the office party for the company I used to work for. Employees would bring in their young children to get a gift from the big man himself. What’s it like playing Santa at the office party? It’s great with the kids, with the looks on their faces and everything. They just love it. It’s like I’m a god. This is it. This is the man they look up to, and they really worship, and they really wanna get all the goodies for Christmas. You know what I mean? They finally bought me a real suit. Last year they gave me this total piece of shit — I said, You expect me to wear this? I said, It looks like I’m Salvation Army, I am not wearing this. So they bought me a real good one. I have it in my closet at home. My granddaughter, she was two last year. You’d think she would recognize the voice and everything, but she was mystified by the whole bit, the whole outfit. Some of them cry — they’re scared because they’re young, you know. Some of the older ones, they see me every year, they’re getting older and they’re starting to figure it out. They don’t say too much, they don’t squeal on ya, pull your beard off or somethin’. With some of them I say, You say anything, you’ll get a good swift kick in the butt for Christmas, kid. Don’t you mention it to your little sister.

I went to college with Sean. I was particularly interested in asking him about Santa because Sean isn’t Christian. What did Santa mean to you as a child? I’m Jewish, but I wanted to see Santa, too. All my friends were. All that was on TV was Santa this and Santa that, so of course we had to do Santa. I’ve sat in the big man’s lap and asked for toys. My mom took me. I didn’t understand it all at the time. We weren’t terribly religious. We didn’t do a lot of stuff until late when I got toward Hebrew school or was getting Bar Mitzvahed, really. But I don’t know why they did it or gave in to my demands. Guess any little kid wants toys. Did your family celebrate Christmas? Well yeah, in a way. I mean we didn’t have a tree, okay, but we did hang stockings a few times. So we got candy and little toys. We already had Chanukah, so we got our presents then. Santa Claus was just kind of this seasonal extra that didn’t have any specific religious meaning. Did you tell your friends at school that Santa came to see you? I think I must have — to fit in. You give in to peer pressure and whatnot. Everyone knew I was Jewish. There were a number of other Jewish kids in the class that I was growing up with and you kind of wanted to do what they do, but there still wasn’t enough of us to make a stand against Santa. So you just kind of rolled with it, I guess.

I asked my niece, Courtney about Saint Nick. Children easily have the most charming perspective on the jolly fat man. What can you tell me about Santa Claus? He’s nice. I wanted to stay up all night Christmas Eve and go out into the living room whenever I heard something, but I fell asleep before then. Do you want to meet him? Yeah. What would you say if you met him? Hi. Anything else? No. Would you ever want to go on a ride on his sleigh? Yeah. I’d go to the North Pole with him. I want to see the elves’ ears and meet the reindeer. Do your parents ever tell you better behave around December because Santa is coming? Yeah. My mom always says that after Christmas too, for next year, and because me and my brother always fight a lot. But I never listen to her. I just ignore her and fight with my brother more. Until December and then you get your act together? Why do you do that? Because then Santa will come. You know all of this is going to be published, right? Yeah. Santa may read this and see that you’re only good for one month of the year. Really? …Really? …I’m good all year. I don’t really fight that much.

Bernice Chamberland was my grandmother. I asked her about Santa back in 2004.  Tell me about Santa Claus. That bum? I’m not a good person to ask because my brothers, especially Bill, were jokers. And Bill would tell me that there wasn’t any Santa Claus, and that people used to just dress up as him and do all that dirty stuff. Of course my mother was dead then. So I don’t have any pleasant memories of Santa Claus. I tried to believe in Santa Claus, but then they would tell me don’t be stupid, how could anybody like that come down a chimney? I used to think that there might be one and I’d run downstairs for Christmas. That’s when the coal was in the stocking. Nobody was going to go out and buy me any presents and that was the joke. I was six when I got the coal. And it would be hanging up behind our gas stove. That went on for a couple of years anyway. I’d go to get my stocking and they’d say don’t be stupid, you know what’s going to be in it anyway.

The first time a child meets Santa Claus, it’s like meeting the world’s biggest celebrity. Most of us never forget the racing heartbeats, the giddy excitement, or maybe even the fear of meeting this omniscient, supernatural being who can either make your dreams come true by laying your most desired toy under the Christmas tree, or crush you with lumps of coal in your stocking. As we get older, our ideas of Santa morph and evolve until many of us actually become Father Christmas — either at the office holiday party or when we have children of our own. The Santa experience offers genuine miracles on both sides of the fluffy white beard in a world where most mysteries are dying off at an alarming rate. Childhood is full of myths and monsters. On the bad side are ghosts (sometimes) and boogeymen, on the good side are the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny, but the kingpin of them all is Santa Claus. Old Saint Nick’s roots are based in the kind-hearted ways of a wealthy orphan who lived centuries ago and spent his life giving gifts to children and those in need. But since Santa went mainstream, he’s has been deified, lampooned, imitated, commercialized, scorned, and overexposed. But through all the murk and mess, Santa’s magic still shines through like Rudolph’s nose through the fiercest blizzard. We teach our own children about Santa because, even if only for the first few years, it’s right to believe in magic. Do you remember thinking you heard footsteps on your rooftop? Or did a red, glowing light in the night sky on Christmas Eve make you think that it was certainly Rudolph leading Kris Kringle’s sleigh team and surely not an airplane? Did your parents use Santa for extortion to get you to behave better — at least in December? Remember your Uncle Larry who dressed up as Santa, had way too many hot toddies, and crushed the Christmas tree? Anyone who has ever survived Christmas has a Santa story to tell. As a side project I started collecting interviews with people about their Santa experiences for a possible future book. As a holiday treat, I’ll be sharing some of these interviews in the coming days. Reader beware… they ain’t all warm and fuzzy.

Yesterday I made a trek to the western portion of Cape Cod to do some research for my forthcoming book, Weird Massachusetts. Joining me was Derek Bartlett from the Cape and Islands Paranormal Research Society — Derek wasn’t so much joining me as he was acting as my tour guide. We’ve had a strange weather pattern here in the Bay State recently and the sunny skies and mid-fifty-degree temperatures didn’t match the date on the calendar.