Don't get me wrong -- I have opinions. Anyone who's been this many times around the Sun tends to develop them. Sit down with me over a cup of coffee and we may agree, disagree, speculate, pontificate, steal one another's thunder, and still be friends. Or not.
Put me in that red suit, though, underneath that floppy hat, and it's different. I'm constrained to be the merry soul who loves children unconditionally, a weaver of magic and defender of innocence, but I also speak for everyone before me who wore the suit, I encumber everyone who comes afterward and wears it, and David's opinions are irrelevant to the discussion most of the time anyway.
My brothers out there are in the same situation. One may have a fun back-story about how reindeer fly, another rhapsodizes about bells, and still another does little magic tricks for the children, but we're all connected to "back then" and to "someday" and to "each other." All of us have to deal with children who believe we're each and severally the real Santa, with children who are taught that we're Santa's helpers, with children who suspect we're someone's Grand-dad. We hold every family tradition as valid, uphold parental authority, accommodate the premises of as many Santa movies as possible, keep steering clear of copyright infringement, and in the back of every mind inside that floppy hat is the desire to keep from painting all of us further into a corner.
So in case you ever wondered why Santa self-refers in the third person, this is the reason. Santa has no politics, no explainable economics, no pet peeves, and probably no food allergies. Mom's recipes are his favorites, he applauds the bravery every child has to have, and there aren't any jokes older than he is. The child in his lap is the center of the universe, and it's that narrow focus that lets him fit into the straitjacket. He's there for the children.
Put me in that red suit, though, underneath that floppy hat, and it's different. I'm constrained to be the merry soul who loves children unconditionally, a weaver of magic and defender of innocence, but I also speak for everyone before me who wore the suit, I encumber everyone who comes afterward and wears it, and David's opinions are irrelevant to the discussion most of the time anyway.
My brothers out there are in the same situation. One may have a fun back-story about how reindeer fly, another rhapsodizes about bells, and still another does little magic tricks for the children, but we're all connected to "back then" and to "someday" and to "each other." All of us have to deal with children who believe we're each and severally the real Santa, with children who are taught that we're Santa's helpers, with children who suspect we're someone's Grand-dad. We hold every family tradition as valid, uphold parental authority, accommodate the premises of as many Santa movies as possible, keep steering clear of copyright infringement, and in the back of every mind inside that floppy hat is the desire to keep from painting all of us further into a corner.
So in case you ever wondered why Santa self-refers in the third person, this is the reason. Santa has no politics, no explainable economics, no pet peeves, and probably no food allergies. Mom's recipes are his favorites, he applauds the bravery every child has to have, and there aren't any jokes older than he is. The child in his lap is the center of the universe, and it's that narrow focus that lets him fit into the straitjacket. He's there for the children.
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