to katie: about santa and fiction and reality

I love stories. I was raised by two of the greatest storytellers the world has ever known. My Mom, your Gramma, almost always has the perfect story, in any situation, and her stories always help me understand things a little better than I did before. My Dad, who you never got to meet, would not always tell helpful stories like Gramma, but his stories were always told with so much energy and humor that everyone in the room would gather around to listen.

Usually their stories were based on things that actually happened, real events. For example, one of Gramma's favorite stories is about being at a party for a couple's 50th wedding anniversary. Someone asked the couple, "Didn't you ever want to leave each other in 50 years?" and the husband answered, "Well, sure we did. But thank the Lord, never on the same day." That was a real couple, and a real party, and they really said those things (or something very close to that - a storyteller always has the right to put in an extra word or two to help make the story a little better). So that story is called "reality-based" because it is based on real stuff that nobody made up.

But sometimes stories are about people, places, things, or activities that are made up, pretend. For example, do you remember when Kevin and I told you and your sister the story of Star Wars? And every time we said "Darth Vader" you guys said "Dun Dun DUHHHHH!" (That still makes both of us laugh when we think about that). Well, Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker and Princess Leia and Han Solo and everything in Star Wars is not based on real events - someone made up those characters and those stories. That makes them fiction, not reality-based.

Now here's the part that gets a little confusing: I think that fictional characters are a little bit real, in their own special way.

Do you remember the story The Velveteen Rabbit? A child had a stuffed bunny rabbit, and the child loved the rabbit so much that the rabbit became real. I loved that story, and I always knew that my very own P.S. Bunny and Papa Bear were real, in their own way. And I had an imaginary friend, Casper the Friendly Ghost, who was very wise, and always cheered me up when I was sad. I knew what P.S. and Papa and Casper would say if they could talk to me for real, and I knew that they all loved me, even though I knew that I was just pretending all of the conversations.

For example, Santa Claus. Yes, someone made up Santa Claus. No, a guy in a red suit does not actually come down chimneys at Christmas time and leave presents. Yes, your parents and your Aunt Angie and Uncle Kevin and Gramma are actually the ones who stuff stockings and arrange presents under the tree (which you already know because last year you stayed up to help us).

I found that "Santa isn't real" because another kid got mad at me, and she knew I still believed in Santa Claus, so she yelled, "Oh yeah? Well, Santa isn't real!" At that point, I started crying and went to my room and picked up a picture of me with Santa and asked her, "Well, then, who is this?" My Mom had a long talk with me about it, and I remember sitting on the couch with my Grandmommy Jane reading an article in the paper where famous people talked about how they found out Santa wasn't real. All day, everyone tried to make me feel better and explain it all. And when I went to bed that night, before I drifted off to sleep, I remember thinking, "They're all wrong."

And here's why I still they were all wrong: I think Santa Claus has some reality to him, too. It's not the same kind of reality that you have - you are not fiction, you are all real. But I think Santa is mostly fiction, and a little bit real. After all, real people dress up as Santa Claus. Real people go get their pictures taken with people dressed up as Santa Claus. Real people, lots of them, all have the same idea about what Santa does and does not do. If someone said to you, "Santa kicked my dog on the way out of our house" you would respond, "No, Santa would never do that" just as if he were a real person. Real people write stories and sing songs and film movies about Santa. So there is something about Santa which exists inside of real people, and that is the part of Santa which I think is real.

It's the same part of the Velveteen Rabbit or Snoopy or Hannah Montana that is real: the part that is real to me, or real to you, or real to all the millions of kids who know about them. The part that's real is the part where you learn real things from the stories about their lives, or take real comfort by pretending to be with them, or have real happiness when you think about them. Or, best of all, when you really make better decisions about your own real life because of what they taught you.

So when people tell me that Santa Claus isn't real, or the Easter Bunny, or the Tooth Fairy, or Snoopy, or Lilly and her purple plastic purse, or Harry Potter and Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, or Buffy, or Princess Leia, or any of the other fictional characters I love with all my heart, you know what I say? I say, "I'm sorry, but you're all wrong. They're a little bit real in me."

Love,
Aunt Angie