Dear Santa:

I wrote to you once before.  I was much younger then and not too bewildered by adult behavior.  I told you I was sometimes a little bit naughty – maybe.  I asked if you could see your way clear to bringing me a Zorro suit.  I didn’t tell you what I really wanted to do was carve Z’s onto some peoples butts.  Like Zorro always did to the fat Federale trying to catch him.  I was told to mail my letter to Santa at the North Pole.  I addressed the envelope to Santa Claus, North Pole and gave it to my Mom who assured me it would be delivered.

You must’ve found me on the not too naughty list because the Zorro suit was under the tree Christmas morning.  I was excited to put on the black mask, hat and cape.  But best of all, I grabbed the trusty rapier and began slashing Z’s in every direction.  I slashed big Z’s and little z’s and I was whipping every Federale in my mind’s eye.  That was until I knocked over one of Mom’s knick-knacks.  I froze mid slash as it tumbled in slow motion toward the floor.  I didn’t even know my eyes had slow motion capability.  It only prolonged the sheer terror.  Fighting a thousand Federali would have been less frightening.  It was a saving grace when it landed on a rug and not the hard floor.  Phew.  I was thankful to my guardian angel.  I’m certain I have one, else I wouldn’t be here writing to you again.  That’s when Mom instructed Zorro (me) to take his sword fight outside before she took the sword and wore him out with it.  Zorro complied post haste.  The only Christmas morning I can recall being more exciting than that was when my brother shot my sister with his brand new Daisy B-B gun.  Now that gun disappeared.  Whatever became of it remains a great family mystery.

So, I am convinced you exist.  Although, with the Internet and email these days I imagine we can just send our letters to you out into cyberspace.  I never looked to see if you have a social media presence.  I prefer the mystical side where the little elf and his tiny reindeer land on my roof.  It’s a new roof, but fortunately for you it’s not a metal one.  I imagine Rudolf and the gang might have trouble gaining traction on one of those.  You know, “Up on the roof there arose such a clatter.”  I’m afraid it could be upon the roof, down the side, into the patio furniture and on to the cold concrete patio all while the on looking squirrels giggled.  I am sure you have some magic nose twitch or something to prevent such a calamity, but the possibility remains a little frightening.  I mean if you crashed into a heap on my patio who would finish your night’s work?  With all of the years you’ve been at it, I expect you have worked out all potentialities.

We know that NORAD tracks you and nowadays we all assume that the NSA monitors your communications.  I suggest that this year, you dim Rudolph’s schnoz and travel in stealth mode.  Every little kid has a tablet or a smart phone (that may be an oxymoron) or a computer.  Most of them will be trying to find you right after they find the rarest Pokémon.   When Ma’s in her kerchief and I’m in my cap the soft glow of smart phones and tablets will light their bedrooms.  I am sure you have a Santa jammer to counter that problem.  Just think of all the houses you’d have to pass because the children were not nestled snug in their beds.  Santa, you have a challenging task.  I expect little boys do not often ask for Zorro suits but, some would be thrilled with even the smallest gift.  To help you keep up and watch your health, I will leave you some Nutri System cookies and soy milk.  Although I don’t have a clue what a gluten is, the labels assure me both are gluten free.

I guess it’s time for me to get around to what I want.  It is a tall order.  I am a bit older now than the last time I wrote.  Still, I get a little sparkle in my eye around Christmas.  Santa, the only gift I long for is one Silent Night.  One Holy Night.  Heavenly Peace.  I want everyone to awake on Christmas morning with thoughts of the Child savior born to us on that day.

God bless your selfless and giving spirit Santa.  May it never end.  But, for as popular as you are, may you always remember that it is the Christ Child, not Santa Claus, that is the reason for the season.

© 2017 J. D Pendry

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