I Would Prefer Not To Learn the True Meaning of Christmas

But that just makes me a prime candidate, doesn't it?


I was thinking about Santa Claus recently. Specifically, about what it means for kids to believe in Santa Claus at this point. This was prompted by my listening to this episode of This American Life. There's a section where they report on a feud that's going on between two rival factions of mall Santas, and before it starts, Ira Glass warns parents that if they have kids listening, they might want to think about whether or not those kids "are ready to hear about this particular side of Christmas." He's speaking in code to the parents. This segment, he's telling them, takes it for granted that its audience knows there is no Santa Claus, and so you shouldn't let your kids listen to it if they still believe.

It's a nice gesture, but probably unnecessary. Or at least overcautious, like the other TAL disclaimers where Ira warns parents that the following segment "acknowledges the existence of sex." Because the average kid's belief in Santa Claus can probably stand up to hearing about a professional organization of bearded men who make their living portraying Santa in the mall. Because the average kid's belief in Santa is a kind of dizzying postmodern highwire act of faith and cognitive dissonance.

It's possible that there was a time when children who believed in Santa Claus just believed in him. Their parents told them that he was going to bring them presents, and they went to sleep expecting presents, and they woke up to presents, and then one day they were told or figured out how those presents really got there. I can imagine this being possible in an era before a truly mass media existed.

But those days are long over. Because now, when kids believe in Santa Claus, their belief has to also accommodate the knowledge that some people do not believe in Santa Claus. This knowledge is given to them by even the most kid-friendly of media products. I remember, when I was a kid, watching a Christmas episode of Family Matters. The episode opens with an argument between wacky neighbor/show stealer Steve Urkel and his perpetually unrequieted love object Laura Winslow. Steve, it seems, still believes in Santa Claus. Laura, as an adolescent, does not. She tells him in no uncertain terms that his belief is childish (and, incidentally, completely at odds with the scientist/nerd persona that he usually inhabits). So he decides to write down what he wants for Christmas, and not show it to anyone, to prove that Santa exists. A series of wacky mishaps ensue, and Urkel is forced to spend Christmas with the Winslow family. As the episode ends, Steve reveals that spending Christmas with the Winslows was his Christmas wish. "Thanks Santa," he says, and we fade to the credits. This pattern is repeated in most Santa-themed Christmas specials, including both versions of Miracle on 34th Street. These things are aimed at kids, and they're supposed to support belief in Santa, and they do. But it's a peculiar kind of belief in Santa - it suggests that such belief is optional, and that it's a choice that's made, largely, by children.

This all doesn't seem that odd, at first glance. After all, you can say the same thing about faith in God. If belief couldn't accommodate the existence of unbelievers, religion would be gone overnight. But there's a crucial difference here: somebody is putting the presents under the tree. The very thing that initially supports belief in Santa is what makes it so problematic. If the presents are there under the tree, and your parents say they're from Santa, that means your parents know for a fact whether or not Santa Claus exists. Add this to the fact that it seems like kids are the ones who choose to believe in Santa, and, well, that's the beginning of the end. But until that happens, kids must be doing an awful lot of unconscious processing in order to maintain belief in this thing while having skepticism about that belief presented as a viable option. There may have been a time when believing in Santa Claus was simple. Like so much else now, however, it's just complicated, and the burden of this particular complication is borne entirely by the youngest among us. So why do they put up with it? Well, as the boys from South Park taught us years ago, it's all about the true meaning of Christmas: presents.

I would prefer not to blog.

Sort of. I like the idea of it, to a certain extent. It's writing, after all, and that's the game I'm in. Plus it's constant writing, which seems like it can only be a good thing, at least from a practice standpoint. But every time I've tried to start one of these things the same thing happens: I write about two entries, and then I just... stop. It turns into just one more thing I'm supposed to do that I don't.

But that's dumb. That's me describing something about my behavior that I don't like as though I'm a passive observer, as though I don't have any say in the matter. And that kind of talk is for cast members of The Real World ("I'm just a person who says nasty things to other people, unprompted, all the time. And if you can't handle that then that's your problem"). So, here we go, let's try this. I would prefer not to blog, but I'm going to do it anyway. Let's see what else I can do that I'd rather not.