Ringo, Son of Santa

Santa hates elves.

You didn't know that, did you?

But it's true. He thinks they're dirty, disease carrying midgets. Oh, he's happy to let them do all his work for him and he knows full well that without their unceasing toil, the whole toy making industry the city of North Pole is built upon would crumble to nothing. But that doesn't make him not hate them.

I know about Santa's prejudice against elves because I'm his son. You didn't know Santa had a son either, did you? Ringo Claus is the name. Pop used to be a Beatles fan.

Okay, I swore to myself that if I was going to write this story down, I would be totally honest. There are already too many misconceptions, exaggerations and downright lies about my father and the place where we live for me to be adding to them, and here I go telling a half truth with the very first sentence. Let me tell you the whole truth now.

Santa used to hate elves. That was before he became a grandfather and by chance, his grandson was half-elf. The grandson's mother is my wife, Callista. She's a full-blooded elf to the core. She's the most beautiful elf I've ever seen, but an elf nonetheless. Her skin's a shade less green than most elves and she's tall for one too. Only about a foot shorter than me in fact, and her ears are hardly pointed at all, but she's an elf and proud of it too. Our son was three months old on Christmas Day. That was the first time his grandfather laid eyes on the handsome child. The fact that Callista, myself, and our son, Bono (I'm a U2 fan) were even there that day was all of Mom's doing. Pop had disowned me soon after he had confirmed the truth of the rumor that his son had impregnated an elf.

He called me into his office and told me I'd disgraced the family name. He'd known about all of my tomfoolery for a long time: carousing at the bars on the outskirts of the city until the wee hours of the morning, smoking fairy dust and getting drunk off Rudolph's Red-Nosed Rum and all of my endless womanizing. He said he was just hoping Grandfather didn't hear the news. It'd probably kill him being as old as he was.

Pop seemed more hurt than angry with me that day. That was what bothered me the most. He said it might be best for all concerned if I just left the city for good. He'd give me a pass to Earth if I wanted or I could just leave North Pole and make my home in New Elf City. That was where all the banished elves were exiled after they were injured on the job or just got too old to work any more. Pop always said it was better for them to be outside of North Pole than to have a bunch of old, crippled, begging elves uglying up the peanut-brittle paved streets of his city. He sent a wagon around every so often to pick up the dregs, as he called them, and have them transported outside the city gate. The gate was guarded and magically charmed so none could enter again without Santa's expressed permission.

Hearing that Callista was pregnant was news to me too. All I knew was that our relationship was going awesomely, and suddenly she'd quit speaking to me without any explanation. Now I knew why. I had to find her and tell her it was all right. The fact that she was an elf and I was a prince, heir apparent to the Santa Claus title, made no difference to me. I loved her and only hoped to get the chance to help her raise our child up right.

I told Pop it wasn't quite like he was thinking. All the stories he'd heard about my carousing and womanizing were probably true, but Callista wasn't some skuzzy old elf I'd knocked up after too many shots of Blitzens. I loved her and if she was with child, I'd happily do the right thing.

But that didn't seem to satisfy him. He said I had no sense of the importance of the Santa Claus title. I had no conception of the humiliation he would be subjected to because of my actions. He said I'd be lucky if the whole scandal didn't cause the Upstairs people to look for a new family to assume the Santa Claus mission.

My father seemed a broken man on that day. I thought his reaction was unwarranted, but he was from the old school and that was how he felt. Perhaps, when he went, Mom might make him see things in a slightly better light. That was the way she had with him. But I had no intentions of waiting to see.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" he asked me.

"Nothing," I answered. "At least now I know why my girlfriend has been acting so strange lately. If you're done disowning me now, I need to find her and make things right."

He said nothing, but shook his head to show his disgust and gestured that I was free to leave. His hands were washed of me.

Failing my father disappointed me, in spite of the injustice in his reaction. But I pushed the feeling aside for the time being and went to find Callista.

Well, before I go any further, let me give you a little overview of how things work in North Pole. My dad, Wilhelm 'Santa' Claus, is just an ordinary man more or less. He and I and the rest of the good citizens of our city are going to live twice as long as you and your kin, but that's about the only difference. North Pole is not at the top of the Earth as I'm sure those of you who have traveled to that part of the world could attest to. That's because it exists in a different dimension. Only Santa Claus with his flying sleigh and reindeer can travel from the dimension of the North Pole to the dimension of Earth. Only Pop himself knows the code that allows him to travel between the two places. Well, I should say Pop and his pop, who was Santa Claus before him. The magic code is passed from the retiring Santa to the new Santa in a grand ceremony. One day I'll know the code myself if I go along with the game plan and succeed my father.

Right now, I don't know if that's going to happen. Let's just say I've got some motivation problems at present.

See, the title of Santa Claus has been passed down in my family from father to son for about a thousand years. My grandfather, Abraham 'Santa' Claus, is still living but retired in 1990 to spend more time with his wife on their reindeer ranch. He served as Santa for 135 years, which is about an average time for a Santa to work. Dad is pretty new at the job, but quite passionate about it. That's how Dad is about everything. He sinks his teeth into something and won't let go. He loves being Santa. He says it was what he was born to do so he might as well love it. He suggests I take the same philosophy. But I'm just not sure right now. Shouldn't there be more to life than putting on a corny looking red and white suit and flying around the world delivering presents to every little snot-nosed kid in the world once a year and then spending the rest of the year preparing to do it all over again?

I always thought the whole Santa thing was a bit redundant and overdone as well. Most of the parents of those kids could already afford to buy their kids presents. What do they really need us for? I've always argued this point with Pop, but he only looks at me like I'm crazy and tells me I just haven't grown up yet. Well I'm forty-two years old now and still seeing things the same way. (Forty-two for me is the same as twenty-one for you by the way.) I just think I could do something different and better with my life if I had the chance.

Another thing about life at North Pole I've always had a hard time with is the strict class system of the place. My family is at the top of the heap of course. We are the royalty of the North Pole. Everybody kowtows to Mom and Pop and to me too for that matter. People are forever in our business. I can't blow my nose without it becoming a news event. But that part doesn't really bother me. I've never been the type to care what people thought about me. I'm not one to be easily embarrassed. I've always done what I wanted and said what I felt and let the pieces fall where they may. Mom says that's my best and worst quality all wrapped up into one. She's probably right about that. She's right about most things.

I must confess that until I met Callista, I took full advantage of my privileged position in life. I had earned the reputation of being the worst kind of cad. What can I say? I'm a Prince with good looks and a boyish charm to match. What lady could resist me?

But I digress...

I found Callista that night where I figured I would. She was down at Elf Rest, the bar where she does most of her gigs. She's a singer. And not just any singer doing covers of all those old cheesy Christmas tunes. I mean this girl is a Singer! She writes her own songs about the hardships of life as an elf in North Pole. What it's like to be treated a little less than human and your only reason for living is to bleed, sweat, and toil to create toys for kids you'll never meet. And you notice those kids that get the toys in their stocking come Christmas Eve don't write sweet little gushy letters to the elves. Instead, they address them to the man with the big, red suit. And Dad never reads a one. He's got a secretary for that job. Santa's got more important things to do, he says.

I hadn't seen the girl in nearly a week and found her sitting with her friend, Hans, at her regular bar stool. Hans not only had the misfortune of being born an elf. He also turned out gay. A real double-whammy from the Upstairs folks. But Hans is about the nicest guy I ever met. Always has a kind word for everybody, not to mention a helpful hint to spice up your wardrobe a bit. He's Callista's best friend, and I always made an extra effort to stay on his good side.

When I approached them on that day, Callista didn't deign to even look at me at first. I noticed she changed the subject right quick when I got close though. She'd been nearly in tears talking about something and I could have sworn I heard my name, but in the next second, she was laughing about how cute those little reindeer fawns look getting their first flying lessons.

"How's it going Hans, my man?" I said. I studiously ignored Callista. Two could play at her little game.

"I'm doing quite well, Ringo," he answered. "It's so good to see you." He looked me up and down in a flash. If I'd known he was going to be here, I might have given my appearance a tad more attention. He could be awful critical. But not to my face. I'd hear about my horribly mismatched outfits from Callista later.

"I love your boot strings," he said. "The green really matches your eyes."

"Thanks, Hans," I said. "How's the clothes making business going?"

"Quite fabulous actually! You should see the new line I've designed. Convinced my overseer it was all his idea too. That boy is a prince to work for. Let me tell you!"

"That's great," I said. "Oh hey, Callista. What are you up to?"

I watched her consider the idea of continuing the ignoring game, but then she thought better of it.

"I'm alright," she said, barely audible.

Hans took that as his cue.

"Well I see a fashionable, hunky young elf-man over there giving me the eye. I'm going to go chat him up a bit. You two should probably catch up," he said.

He walked away and left us alone. I took his seat at the bar and studied her beautiful face. She looked away from me, not willing to meet my eyes. I decided to get right to the point.

"Pop gave me some news today. I was kind of disappointed I had to get it from him, you know?"

She nodded and continued not to look at me, but she was starting to cry. I reached out and touched her hand. To my relief, she didn't push it away.

"Callista, I love you. I'm here for you in every way. Do you know that?"

She finally looked at me then and tried to blink away her tears. I hugged her against me and let her sob against my chest until her tears were gone.

"I've got a place I want to take you," I said, when she was finished.

"Okay," she said with a shrug.

I took her hand and we left the bar. I walked her down the peanut brittle streets under the candy cane light poles past the old chocolate shacks the elves lived in and even past the suburban gingerbread houses beyond that. She never asked where we were going, content to let me lead her where I would. Through most of the night we walked. The weather was warm and humid, but pleasant. The moon at North Pole is full most nights and I liked the way its light reflected in her eyes. We were mostly silent during our walk and didn't speak at all of her pregnancy or what we would do about it.

It was well past midnight by the time the mansion I'd grown up in came into sight. It's a Victorian style house, three stories tall, with a winding porch all the way around the bottom floor and balconies along the top two floors. It has lots of columns and windows and the highest roof is domed with a spire on the top. No telling how many rooms that house has. It's got to be the greatest place in the world to play hide-and-seek in. The servants' children and I used to spend hours at that game when I was a little boy. Sometimes even Mom would join in when she wasn't too busy.

But she was most of the time. Entertaining at our house was a full-time job. We were forever feeding dignitaries of some sort. Mom has to be the greatest cook in the world. You should try some of her Brunswick stew. It absolutely melts in your mouth. She says her recipe's a family secret, not that I plan on taking up cooking anytime soon. And just the aroma of her pecan pie baking is enough to send your taste buds to ecstasy. The wonderfulness of its flavor when it hits your tongue is beyond my poor powers of description. I grew up eating like that my whole life. Couldn't tell you how I've kept so slim. Pop surely hasn't. He's got a big ole' pot belly just like the stereotype.

Callista had never seen the house before except in photographs. The house was a landmark, the unofficial logo of all of North Pole. She almost stopped in her tracks when it came into sight.

"Wow," she said. "It looks so much bigger in real life than in pictures. I can't imagine actually growing up there."

"Yeah," I said. "That house is something, isn't it? My granddaddy, Abraham, designed it and helped to build it along with the carpenter elves. They finished it in 1900. It was an anniversary present to his wife."

"Goodness, Ringo. It's really beautiful."

"Yes," I agreed. "It is. But that's not where I'm taking you."

She gave me a quizzical smile, and I knew she was enjoying the mystery of our little journey. We kept walking. I took her past the house to the gate of the wall beyond it. Pop called the area behind the wall his courtyard although it's not really a courtyard at all. It's a rolling pasture of grass that stretches for several acres over a gently hilled landscape. Pop brought in the reindeer herd sometimes to graze on the grass, and some days, he'd call for it to snow just so he could see how beautiful the area looked in the morning, all carpeted in white for as far as the eye could see.

I drew a key out of my pocket and unlocked the golden padlock on the gate. We walked through and I locked it behind us. Towards the back of the property, almost to the back wall, there is a giant mound. It doesn't look very steep, but for some reason, it's awful hard to climb sometimes. I remember walking to the top of it with no problem when I was a child, but the last time I tried, a couple of years ago, I found it was impossible to scale. I was drunk and high and trying to show the place to a little vixen I picked up down at The Schmoozin' Scrooge, a seedy little establishment on the outskirts of the city. I ended up huffing and puffing from exhaustion and the little tart I was with wasn't impressed at all. She said I was kind of a weirdo even if I was a prince and made me take her home.

For some reason, I thought I'd find the path to the top of that mound a lot easier tonight. We walked through the grassy plain for probably a mile before we reached it. She'd held my hand pretty tightly the whole way. We walked in silence and I could tell she knew I was taking her somewhere very special.

I knew from the first step up that I'd been right. I can't say for sure how tall that mound is, but I estimate it's a good hundred feet to the top. But like I said, it's not that steep and we walked straight to the top, hardly winded at all by the time we got there.

The sun was just rising in the east and we watched it in silence with our arms around each other.

"Thank you for taking me here," she said. "You're right. This is a special place."

"Yes," I said. "But there's more to it. This is a gateway to another place. "I came here a lot with Mom when I was a little kid. We came to watch the sunrise just like we're doing tonight. But once we went to the other place from here. Mom called it The Magic Place. She says this is the only place where it can be reached. She also said you can only get there if you're in the perfect state of mind. It's different than going to Earth. You don't need the code to get there. Anyone can go to The Magic Place if they're standing on this mound."

"What did you and your mother do there?"

"We rode a unicorn. My mom held onto its mane and I wrapped my arms around her waist. We galloped across an ocean made of liquid gold and silver. Then we flew into the sky all the way to the sun where we met a kind king with a beard full of diamonds. He was a jolly man who was full of laughter. He touched us both on the shoulder with his scepter and filled our souls with pure Joy. The next thing we knew, we were opening our eyes on top of this mound where we were both lying on our backs with the sun directly above us. I swear that I saw the sun with a face that smiled and winked at me in the moment I woke up and then it was gone. The sun was just the sun again. But I didn't mention it to Mom. 'I had a dream,' I told her instead.

'It was no dream,' she said. 'Don't you still feel a little of that perfect Joy in your heart?'

"She was right. But we never went there again. I don't know why. We climbed the mound several more times, but we never tried to go The Magic Place again. I guess it's the kind of place you can only go once...at least only once with your mom."

"You want to take me there tonight?"

"Yes. We just have to stand here and watch the sun rise and let our hearts free, let loose all the love we have for one another. We can't try to go there. We can't even care if we go there or not. All we can do is stand here holding hands watching the sun rise over our city."

But we didn't do that. Instead, we kissed. It was a long, passionate, perfect kiss that must have been full of the selfless love we needed because when we broke the kiss at last, we found ourselves transported.

We no longer stood upon the mound in my father's "courtyard." Instead, we stood barefoot in a field of perfectly green grass that stretched in every direction for as far as the eye could see. The sky was as perfectly blue as the grass green and the sun shone directly above us, like a smiling eye of God. The grass was pleasantly cool to my toes and I held Callista's hand very tightly, wanting to feel its warmth to be quite sure this was not a dream.

"It's not a dream at all, is it?" she said, echoing my thoughts.

"No, it's The Magic Place, just as I was telling you."

"Yes," she said. "Do you think we should walk?"

"There seems to be little else to do."

So we began to walk across the flat, grassy plain, and there seemed nothing unnatural about our steps except that time was either absent or so insignificant it seemed to be absent. We walked many steps without a hint of change in the landscape before we heard a terrible rumbling that I would almost say was like distant thunder, but it was more violent than that. It was more like a distant earthquake. We stopped in our tracks when we heard it and looked all around us, trying to discern from which direction the terrible rumbling could have come from.

But then we saw its source and even before I could identify the thing for what it was, a chill of fear fell across my heart. It was only a small, black dot in the sky when it first came into view. One could have mistaken it for a bird, but even from a far distance, it was obvious that it was larger than any bird I had ever heard of. A plane, perhaps? But there was something distinctly animal-like in the way it moved through the sky. It was its roar that caused the rumbling sound of an earthquake. Both Callista and I knew this somehow without knowing why we knew it. We stopped in our tracks and watched the thing fly towards us, a perfectly black object against an unblemished cerulean sky. The thing came closer and closer growing ever larger as it came. It flew in front of the sun and cast a great shadow upon the two of us and it was from the shadow's shape that I identified the creature at last.

It was a dragon! A dragon with scaly bat-like wings that must have stretched fifty feet across their tips. It had the head of a dinosaur with a flared flap of skin on the back of its neck. Periodically, it spewed great breaths of fire and roared with the fury of a thousand lions. It was frighteningly clear to me that the dragon was not heading in our direction by coincidence. It came with a sense of purpose and I feared we would be incinerated by its flaming breath in an instant.

"I think that thing's coming for us, Ringo!" Callista said, gripping my hand so hard I feared she would crush it. "It looks like something out of a nightmare! It's really a fire-breathing dragon isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," I said with a calmness I didn't feel, but I had to fake it to prevent Callista from completely freaking. Also I was not completely powerless. As I might have mentioned already, being the son of Santa does have its privileges.

The dragon spiraled ever lower in the sky above us, breathing fire at more and more frequent intervals. I began to feel the heat of the flames as they left its mouth. I squared my shoulders and took on as stern an expression as I was able to conjure.

The dragon's name came magically into my mind and now I used it to command the creature.

"Cloxthai!" I bellowed. "Come down from the sky and cease your feeble attempts at intimidation! I have need of you!"

The dragon sounded off with one last terrible roar that shook the ground and fired one last breath of flame that nearly singed away my eyebrows. But it knew it had to obey me. That was simply the way of the universe.

The dragon landed on the grass in front of us and assumed a docile posture. It could have evaporated us with flame, but instead only waited for my instructions.

I spoke to the dragon in its own language in a voice of the authority that was my birthright.

"Take us to the Great Yellow Mountain!" I commanded.

Until the words came out of my mouth, I had no idea that a Great Yellow Mountain even existed. But this was The Magic Place and anything I imagined could be real.

The dragon's voice spoke inside of my mind.

"Climb on my back and I will take you and your beautiful elfin friend there," he said.

The dragon hunched against the ground on its four legs until its body was low enough for Callista and I to scale the rough hide of its back. We finally found a notch near its neck where we could sit comfortably.

"Fly, Cloxthai!" I said.

And the dragon flew. For many miles we flew above the unbroken flatness of the grassy plain until a great blue, waveless ocean came into view. We flew above this ocean until the valley passed from sight completely and nothing could be seen below us but the endless still water that was bluer than the sky.

Then, jutting far above the ocean's water we saw it at last: the Great Yellow Mountain. Its peak rose further into the sky than the dragon flew. The mountain was made of pure and solid gold.

"Cloxthai! Bite off the summit of that mountain and melt it inside your fiery mouth! Meld me a symbol of my love and devotion to this woman who rides behind me."

Cloxthai roared in response with such power that the very air seemed to quake with the force of the sound. Then he did as I instructed. With one mighty bite, he chomped off the summit of the Great Yellow Mountain. He built a fiery furnace inside of his great mouth as he worked the gold with what must have been great skill and dexterity judging from the final product. At last he let the excess fall from his lips into the ocean below where the liquid gold landed with a mighty splash and hiss of molten, hot steam.

"I have created the object you have requested," the dragon said within my mind.

Then it flew us away from the golden mountain across the ocean once more and placed us down on the same spot in the grassy meadow where he had picked us up. Callista and I slid down its back and stood again with our bare feet on the cool grass.

I held my hand out it front of its giant mouth waiting for his creation.

"It's still a bit warm, but cool enough by now I suppose," he said. Then he let the ring fall from his lips. I caught it in the palm of my hand. Its metal was still so hot I could barely hold it. I turned to Callista and knelt on one knee.

"Will you marry me?" I asked her.

Too overcome to speak, with tears streaming down her face, she let me slide the golden ring on her finger and embraced me with all her elfin strength and love.


In the next moment, we found ourselves on the top of the mound in Santa's courtyard again. We were lying on our backs and holding hands. I lifted my head to see the sun was still rising in the east. It seemed no time at all could have passed during our journey to The Magic Place. Both of us felt we had just awakened from a deep and peaceful sleep.

She turned to me with eyes full of wonder.

"Was it all just a dream?" she asked.

"Look at your hand and tell me," I said.

She lifted her left hand in front of her face and saw the golden, dragon-made ring on her finger. She turned to me and smiled the most beautiful, joyful smile I had ever seen on another's face.

"It's still warm," she said.

Ringo, Son of Santa--Part II

A month later, Callista and I were married in New Elf City. Hans was her maid of honor. The day was cold and sleety and the ceremony was performed outside because there was no building in the town to accommodate all of the people who came to see it. I had never thought much about marrying, but it was still not the way I'd pictured the day. Mom and Pop not being there bothered me more than I thought it would. I was a prince and it should have been a grand ceremony full of pomp and finery. But to tell the truth, I never really cared for that kind of thing, and those in attendance seemed genuinely happy for us. If we had gotten married in North Pole, there would have been as many gossip mongers in attendance as well-wishers. Here, the people seemed much more sincere. They were a crowd full of old, shivering elves with broken bodies and too many years of toil behind them, but in spite of it, every face before me held a smile.

Callista's father was there. He was a red-bearded elf with a deep scar running down his left cheek. His every step was a labor, even with the help of the ancient cane he used, but he was happy to see his daughter marry the man she loved in spite of the controversy our union had created.

"Who gives a whit what folks think about it," he had told his daughter. "You do what's right for you!"

After the ceremony, he embraced her and shook my hand with a strong, calloused grip.

"One of these days, Ringo, by Santa's knotty beard, there's going to be a revolution. These elves won't stand for much more of this. You mark my words!"

Revolution! I had never before pondered such a thought. I had a feeling Pop hadn't either.

Our son, Bono, was born five months later. He was a beautiful baby who combined our best features. We loved him and so did all the people in that city. We passed our time there in comfort. Callista was a true celebrity among her people. Her voice was the most magical thing in the entire dimension. I tossed aside my princely rights and worked as a farmer, growing cotton, corn, and peanuts. Callista's father and I grew very close. He was a great scholar full of wisdom of every type. I learned many things from him.

"The code is not the only way of reaching Earth," he told me one day. "In fact, it's not even the best way."

"What?" I exclaimed. This statement, if it were true, shook my world view as nothing else ever had.

"I have been to Earth myself on at least ten occasions."

"What's it like?" I asked, fascinated.

"It is...an interesting place to say the least. A place full of diversity and billions of people. You will have to see it for yourself. I will take you there if you like."

"Were you ever tempted to stay there?"

"No, never. Life here is hard sometimes, but this is my home and these are my people."

But New Elf City was not my home and those who lived there were not my people. I began to grow very homesick as time passed, and missed my father in spite of his crass ways and my mother even more. There was no way she could know of her beautiful grandchild we were raising amongst these elves with their broken bodies and unbreakable spirits. I didn't share these feelings with Callista although she must have sensed them.

"Are you truly happy here?" she asked me one night as I lay on the verge of sleep with our baby lying between us.

"Yes," I lied.

"I don't believe you," she said.

But I said nothing else. Callista was happy, I told myself. That was all that mattered.


The day before Christmas, when my son was nearly three months old, Mom found a way to reach me with a letter.

My dearest Ringo, she wrote. I miss you very much and have been keeping tabs on you through my sources ever since your father so harshly and needlessly banished you. I did my best to force him to see the wrongness of his decision and believe that in his heart of hearts, he knows he is wrong. But you know your father as well as I do. He is the most head-strong, stubborn man I've ever known. He might realize he's wrong but he'll never admit it. He believes that changing any decision he's already made is an unforgivable sign of weakness.

But I can be as stubborn as he when I set my mind to it. I still perform all the official duties as his wife, but I have given him a heavy dose of the silent treatment in private ever since you've been gone. I can tell it's taking a toll on him. He would stay at work all night if he could, rather than to come home and face the silence that waits for him here. He's even taken to pleading with me on several occasions.

'Lighten up, Louise,' he tells me. 'There was nothing else I could do. Don't you understand? He brought shame on this household by cavorting with that elf of his. A thousand years of tradition and he tossed it all away without a thought. I know Ringo is a good boy in his way, but some things you've got to take a stand on. Can't you see I only did what had to be done?'

'No,' I tell him. 'I don't. He's your son and while I know he's done many things I don't approve of, I'm not about to condemn him for following his heart to the person he loves, even if that person lives in the body of an elf.'

'Elves,' he responds, 'are hardly better than rodents.'

That's when I lapse into silence again.

But I have a hunch I know how to end this foolish banishment he's subjected you to. Your father is a man with a big heart in spite of his faults. When he returns from his job on Christmas Day, I want you in this house with Callista and your baby boy sitting at my table for Christmas dinner. I'm anxious to meet her and my grandson for the first time and when your father finds you here, I must ask you to greet him with love, courage, and forgiveness. If you can see beyond his bluster, he may see beyond his prejudice.

A man will come for you and your family on Christmas Eve. He will be a giant, shadowy man with a booming voice and a kind heart. Follow him through the gate into North Pole and to our home. I look forward to seeing you and my baby grandson. Tell your wife that in my eyes, she is the daughter I never had.

All my love,
Mom


I had tears in my eyes by the time I finished reading the letter, and knew I would do as Mom instructed. I let Callista read it as well and she consented to do as Mom asked, although not without misgivings.

"Our people fear your father," she told me.

"There is no need to fear Mr. Wilhelm 'Santa' Claus," I told her. "It's just like Mom says. Beneath all that mindless bluster he blows about is a heart of gold."


Well past midnight on Christmas Eve a heavy knock sounded on the door of our modest home. I went to answer and found a giant, dark, shadowy man filling up the doorway. He was so black that in the darkness of the night, I could hardly make out a single feature of the man except for his massive, Herculean physique. He must have been nearly seven feet tall with arms like steel hammers and a chest as big around as two barrels. If Mom had not told me to expect him, I would have been beside myself with fright to encounter such a fellow, especially at this late hour. It was amazing to me I had never before seen this man or any man colored as dark of a hue as this one in all my life.

"I'm John Henry," he said in his deep, lazy bass of a voice. "Ya' mother done sent me here to carry you'uns 'cross the border back to yore home, ya' understan'?"

There was something deeply comforting and magical in John Henry's voice. I instantly trusted him and did not doubt his ability to take me safely home.

"She told me to expect you," I told him.

Callista was ready, holding Bono wrapped in a blanket. I could tell she was very nervous and more than a little frightened, but not hesitant. The three of us stepped outside into the cold night and waited for John Henry to lead us.

"I's goin' ta' carry ya' there," he said. "I's so black, no one'll see ya' when I got my arms wrapped 'round ya good an' tight, ya' understan'. Nary a soul be moved to mess with ya' either long as I got ya' good an' tight and comfortable-like."

He made this statement with supreme calmness and confidence.

I looked at him with a disbelieving look.

"With all respect, Mr. Henry," I said. "You're a big man. That's plain to see, but it's hard for me to see you just picking us up and carrying all three of us like we weighed about as much as lunch pails. If it's all the same to you, I'd just assume walk."

But John Henry just threw back his head and laughed so merrily, it would have made any Santa born envious.

"Aw, you don' worry 'bout that, Missa' Ringo. I b'leive I kin carry ya' 'thout much trouble a'tall."

Then he scooped me up in his arms as if I were a new-born babe myself. In his other arm, he gathered my wife and child as easily as you'd lift a kitten."

Held snugly in his confident grip, I looked up into his smiling face in wonder and was amazed to see the man had become a true giant in an instant. He must have stood ten feet tall and we were swallowed in his strong grasp, unable to move. But strangely, we were not troubled by this. Instead, my family was filled with a comforting feeling of warmth and security.

John Henry carried us away from New Elf City through the gate of North Pole without incident. He transported us with such little effort and with such grace that all three of us fell asleep in his arms and did not wake until sunrise when he reached the porch of my childhood home and placed us gently down.

I opened my eyes to see Mom smiling back at me. She was certainly a sight for sore eyes, wearing her special Christmas apron with her stark white hair tied in a bun behind her head. She was a little stooped and beginning to show her age just a bit, but in my opinion, she was still one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. We hugged and I introduced her to Callista and Bono, whom she immediately moved to hold. Callista allowed her to and the sleeping baby remained content in his grandmother's arms.

John Henry had shrunk to his former size and appeared uncomfortable to be a witness to the scene.

"Thank you, Johnny," Mom told him. "This favor will be long remembered. I promise you that."

"Yore welcome, ma'am. It warn't no problem at all. The three of 'em slept like li'l chillen the whole way here, you understan'. The things you done to help me and my fam'ly ain't easily forgot Miss Claus. I's proud to do this small fava' for ya'."

I thought his words were strange as I had never heard Mom speak of John Henry or any of his family. Apparently Mom's influence spread into much wider circles than I had imagined.

I shook John Henry's hand and thanked him as well. He excused himself and strode into the night. After only a few steps he had disappeared from our sight completely. I have never seen him since.

We followed Mom into the house and the aroma of baking pies made my mouth water.

"The three of you need your sleep, I'm sure," Mom said. "Your father will soon come home exhausted from the night's work and sleep away most of the day. But tonight, we will sit at the table and eat together like a proper family."

I dreaded that confrontation, but did as Mom said. It was her show now. She would see things done as she wanted.

I slept soundly through the day in my childhood bed with my son and my wife. It was night again when Mom came to call us down for dinner.

"Get washed up, children. Dinner's on the table," she said.

For some reason, I found it comforting to be thought of as a child by my mother. But remembering I would soon be forced to face my father with the fruit of my sins in tow made my heart begin to pound and a bead of sweat to form on my forehead.

"Does your mom know what she's doing?" asked Callista anxiously. "Is your dad going to get crazy when he sees us?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "But Mom's never been wrong about anything before."

We washed up, changed Bono's diaper and made our way down the stairs to dinner. The table could've set thirty, but only six seats were placed and half were occupied. Grandma and Grandpa were there, looking hale and hearty. I hadn't seen them in quite awhile and both of their faces lit up when my little family came into view.

"Ringo!" Grandpa exclaimed with all the jolliness a former Santa could muster. "Who have you brought with us this Christmas? Louise never even mentioned you were here."

The joy in his voice made me feel a load had fallen from my shoulders. It seemed Pop had been flat wrong about his prediction of Granddad's reaction.

"Hey, Granddad," I said. "This is my entourage, Callista and Bono. Mom didn't say anything about you being here today either. I guess she's just full of surprises."

I glanced at Dad as I spoke. He was sitting at the head of the table holding his knife and fork, obviously not expecting to see his banished son with his taboo family. The expression on his face was priceless. The smallest elf could have knocked him over with a pinky finger.

Remembering my mother's advice about forgiveness, I took my place beside him where I had dined every meal of my childhood life. Callista sat beside me holding Bono.

Mom said to be cheerful, I kept in mind.

"Merry Christmas, Pop," I said. "How was your night's work?"

He didn't consider answering, but only stared at me like I was as welcome as a rat at his dinner table, or worse, an elf...or worst of all, an elf-lover.

Callista, carrying Bono, sat close beside me. She looked worried and frightened. She hadn't been afraid of the dragon, Cloxthai, but she feared my father. It was a sad testament. I squeezed her knee beneath the table, trying to convey courage. It might have worked because she spoke up to my father with a voice full of a confidence I knew she didn't feel.

"Hello, Mr. Claus," she said. "It's great to finally meet you, Sir," she said, extending her hand.

He didn't smile but did take her hand and I saw him shoot a quick look of curiosity toward his grandson.

"Did you get all the presents delivered to the good boys and girls of the world without a hitch?" I asked my father.

"Hmmph!" he bellowed.

Granddad spoke for him.

"It was harder than ever for your pop this year," he said. "He had to yell the magic code at the top of his lungs three times before it took. In my day, all that was needed was the wisp of a whisper and the deed was done. All the magic's dying in the world, Ringo. I hate to see what's in store by the time you get the job."

"Yeah, well fat chance that'll ever happen," I said.

I thought that statement might take a little of the Christmas cheer out of the atmosphere, but Granddad only smiled. He had a real twinkle in his eye too.

"Excuse me, Callista, but would you mind if I held that son of yours for a spell before Louise comes in with the food. It's not every day an old man gets to meet his great-grandchild."

Callista let Abraham Claus, the oldest man in all of North Pole, hold our child. Bono didn't even cry either. Granddad bounced him lightly on his knee while the baby drooled all over him. Bono didn't take his eyes off his mother's face.

Just then Mom came in, straining from the weight of the hot, juicy turkey she held in her hands. She placed it in front of Pop. The servants followed after with plenty of dishes to add to the feast: sweet potato casserole, creamed corn, rutabagas, collard greens, corn bread, congealed salad, string beans and plenty of sweet tea to wash it down with. For dessert, in the unlikely event we kept some room in our stomachs for it, she'd prepared her patented pecan pie. Just the sight of it made me want to cry with joy to be home again.

Mom sat down beside Pop and placed her hand on top of his.

"Wilhelm, why don't you say Grace?" she asked.

"I think I'll defer to Dad this year," he said. "He seems to have a bit more of the Christmas spirit going for him."

But Granddad didn't see it that way. Instead, he stood with my son and placed the baby boy in my father's lap. Dazed, all Pop could do was hold him.

"Nope," Granddad said. "You're the man with the suit and you ought to be saying Grace in your own home in any case."

Pop said nothing and held his grandson reluctantly for another moment. The rest of the table was silent as well, waiting to see what Pop would say. Mom squeezed his hand and bowed her head, anticipating the blessing to come.

Then Bono moved his eyes from his mother for the first time and turned to look up into the bearded, worried face of his grandfather. He pulled his beard in his infant hands and cooed. Pop looked down at the baby and I saw a change come over him. He stroked Bono's head affectionately and his eyes danced.

In that moment, it seemed that Santa Claus changed his opinion about all elves in general.

"Let us pray," Pop said.

"Dear Lord," he began. "Thank you for this bountiful feast and for all the good things you've blessed us with this Christmas. Thank you for allowing me to perform a duty that brings so much joy to so many on this day each year." He paused here and his voice cracked a little when he spoke again. "And thank you for allowing this family to be together this Christmas...and forgive me for my shortcomings: my fits of short-sighted temper, my small mindedness and general surliness. Thank you for this grandchild who sits in my lap, his beautiful mother, and the return of my son to this household. And thank you for a family who has enough courage and faith enough in me to help me open my eyes when I am blind. Thank you for your graciousness, dear Lord. Amen."

I opened my eyes and wiped away the tears that had come to them during my father's prayer. For one of the first times in my life, I was proud to be my father's son.

We ate our Christmas meal with gusto and when it was done, I still had room for three slices of Mom's pecan pie. Pop held Bono in his lap through the entire meal and the baby didn't cry even once.

Mom always said he had a way with children in spite of his less than cuddly nature. She said it was just part of being Santa Claus after all. I guess she's right about that. She seems to be right about just about everything.
************************************************************************

Pop's change of heart was more than a passing fancy it turned out. A month after Christmas, he ordered the gate that separated North Pole from New Elf City torn down and passed the Elves Equality Act that simultaneously reduced elves' working days to eight hours and increased elves' wages by an average of 200% across the board. Surprisingly, most elves already residing in New Elf City chose to remain there even after the act was passed and Callista's songs about the hard, brutal life that most elves had always lived became even more popular. Even Pop loved to hear her sing.

Callista and I returned to our home, but for some reason, I no longer felt like an outsider in that city full of elves.

I was a big help to Pop in preparing for the following Christmas. I felt more Santa-like and full of the Christmas spirit than I ever had before in my life.

"Ready to take this suit from me yet?" Pop asked me jokingly a couple of days ago.

I didn't answer. I just smiled and shook my head. He ho-ho-hoed and slapped me on the back. It felt good to have a friend in my father.

But I still don't think I'm there yet. I still think there's something more for me out there. I asked Callista if she thought I'd make a good Santa.

"If you decide to be a good Santa, then you will be," she said. "If you decide to do something else instead, then you will be great at that too."

I knew she was right and was surprised I hadn't thought of it quite like that.

I like to hike back home sometimes and climb that mound in my father's courtyard to watch the sunset and think. Sometimes I bring Bono with me. He seems to sense the magic in the place even if he is just a baby. Today, I was thinking that it's awful nice for Santa to bring all the boys and girls in the world the things they want for Christmas, but I think it encourages a shallow sense of materialism as well. Do kids really need toys to make them happy? I don't think so. That's what really bothers me about the whole Santa thing.

Instead of giving kids a bunch of toys, clothes or electronic gadgets that will likely be broken or forgotten in a couple of months time, there ought to something more worthwhile to offer the children of the world.

I was thinking hard about that this morning. If every kid could have his own dragon to ride wherever he felt it should go, wouldn't that be a better Christmas gift? But maybe the truth is, every kid already has that dragon somewhere inside of themselves and what they really need is a way to bring it out.

Maybe that's what I could do when I get to wear the big, red suit.

For now, though, looking for my own dragon seems enough to worry about. I'll let you know when I find it.