December 15, 1999

Being a holiday icon is no easy gig

By GARRET LEIVA
Herald editor
       Wanted: Seeking positive, energetic, self-motivated jolly ol' elf to spread Christmas cheer. Belly that shakes like a bowlful of jelly required. Must own sled and eight flying reindeer. Time management skills and compass-like sense of direction helpful in completing overnight delivery route around the world. Part time, summers off. Grinches and Scrooges need not apply.
      When it comes to employment opportunities, Santa Claus seems like a primo gig: summer vacations, flying around the world, free cookies. Sure you have to wear a suit to work, but being Kriss Kringle means you punch a time clock for no one. After all, you are your own holiday icon.
      These days, however, it seems the only bags Santa is carrying are the ones under his eyes.
      Let's face it, in the age of shave-fax-cell phone-read-the-paper all while I drive to work, even Santa is multitasking. The big guy barely has time to push himself away from the Thanksgiving table before his Franklin planner starts bulging at the seams. Next thing Santa knows he's dashing through the leaves for television guest appearances, commercial voice-overs, even gas station grand openings.
      The real test of this Saint's patience, however, comes in December.
      Like the winter's first snow, it starts with a single tree-lighting ceremony. Before long it becomes a blizzard of personal appearances that would make even Martha Stewart a recluse. Thousands of children bending your ear - if not screaming in it- and the occasional whippersnapper pulling your whiskers while asking for the latest Pokeman.
      All the while your updating the naughty and nice spreadsheets day and night hoping your computer system doesn't crash before you've had a chance to check it twice.
      Week days and weekends you're constantly coming to town, and usually in two places at the same time. To top it all off, Mrs. Claus lectures you if your belly looks more like a washboard than a washing machine because of all the holiday runaround.
      Your only permissible four-letter response to all this seasonal stress? Ho-Ho.
      With this in mind, while I can't speak for all of humankind, I would like to at least apologize for the behavior of one 4-year-old boy.
      It was 1974 and I remember my excitement seeing you walk through a sea of jumping bean nursery schoolers all shouting your name. I also remember the utter disappointment of receiving a gift box that in millimeters would still be considered minuscule. The adage about the best things coming in small packages, like not eat Play-Doh, was an incomprehensible concept. Sorry Santa.
      If it's not too late, I'd like to make amends for my grievous behavior. This year you name it - chocolate chip, Snickerdoodles, molasses - and I'll set out a baker's dozen and quart of Vitamin D whole milk; I don't think Santa could be intolerant of anything, including lactose.
      By the way, If you need to crash on the couch for a while, the t.v. remote should be on the coffee table. If you can't find it, look between the pages of the newspaper classified section. You can skip the want ads but you might want to check out the snowmobiles circled in red. Just don't forget to update those spreadsheets before you dash away, dash away all.
      Grand Traverse Herald editor Garret Leiva can be reached at 933-1416 or e-mail at gleiva(at)gtherald.com.