TheBanyanTree: Secret Santa

[Margaret R. Kramer]

The snow is coming down thick and heavy this morning.  We’ve been in a snow
drought since the Pacific air decided to fly over us pushing all the
snowstorms to the south.  We’ve been caught in some heavy fog, looking for
our hands held straight out in front of us, but some moisture has worked its
way towards us and we were greeted this morning by millions of wet
snowflakes.

The snow reminds me that it’s the Winter Solstice, when darkness out duels
light.  In order to combat this, we light fires, the Christmas tree, and
illuminate our towns and houses.  We feast and drink excessively.  It’s a
wonderful and delicious time of year and this morning’s snow is just icing
on the cake (no pun intended).

But it’s Santa that I’m concerned with this morning.  My house is full of
Santas, although I don’t collect them.  They’ve appeared in my Christmas
decorations in a random way and each year I set them around the house.

I’ve always enjoyed this mythical character.  There is something so
mysterious about a person who swoops in during the night and leaves gifts
for everyone.  The only thing he asks in return is to be “good.”  I’d lay
awake at night, waiting to hear him and his reindeer, watching the clock
slowly tick off the hours until it was OK to wake up my parents and siblings
and see what Santa had brought.

I always envied people who could sleep Christmas Eve the whole night through
and wake up looking for pancakes instead of toys.  Even to this day, I can’t
sleep on Christmas Eve.  I’ll get up and putter around, waiting for those
reindeer hooves to hit the roof.

Santa is so important that some people like to do a “Secret Santa” deal a
work, or at home, or within an organization.  People give each other gifts
without letting the getter know who the giver is.

I always disliked the Secret Santa deal, partly because I was usually broke
prior to Christmas and it took all I could do to buy presents for the people
on my list, much less someone whose name I pulled out of a bowl.  To me,
Secret Santa was just another stress to add my already long Christmas stress
list.

It seems to me the people who really love the Secret Santa are the people
who are single and childless and getting up there in age and missing the
excitement of getting gifts or the people who are younger and are reaching
the point in their adulthood that their parents aren’t giving them
interesting presents and want to recapture some of their childhood joy.

And with that said, long ago, a young, single woman who a difficult time
getting along with anyone, organized a Secret Santa exchange at my former
place of employment.  We had to buy small gifts, I can’t remember what the
dollar limit was, but it wasn’t much.  However, we had to buy those gifts
over a period of two weeks.  So each work day, we had to come up with a gift
for our person.

Now only a person who believes that Christmas means “getting stuff” would
think of something like that.  Instead of just one Secret Santa exchange,
this thing dragged on for days.  Each day it became more and more difficult
to think of something unique and interesting and that didn’t cost much.
Well, as the days went on, the value of the gifts started go beyond the
budget, and for me, it was serious, because we didn’t have a lot of money
back then, and I couldn’t afford to keep escalating the cost of the gift,
much less be interesting and original about it.  I hated it so much and that
probably explains why I’m not a big fan of Secret Santa.

We were under pressure to all participate and there wasn’t an easy way out
of it.  The organizer was a physically attractive but snarly kind of person;
like I said, she had a difficult time getting along with almost anyone.
Hmmmm . . . that explains why the Secret Santa was so important to her.
Obviously, this was her means to get what she couldn’t give.

Fast forward to this year.  Another snarly person organized the Secret Santa
at work.  However, it was free choice, and eight people out of about 60
participated.  Again, this person is single and childless, and has a
terrible time getting along with other people.  And, like in the Christmas
Past, she went way overboard with the Secret Santa thing.

First, the participants had to write some kind of description about what
they wanted to get along with their name, which was pulled out of a bowl.
Then, each day, they had to buy a small gift and provide a clue about who
they were.  Finally, after a week of clues and small gifts, they did the big
reveal and tried to guess who their Santa was along with getting and giving
a larger present.

Oh, my, that was just too much work for me!  It’s all I can do to get
Christmas on the table for my own family, much less worry about writing up
clues and buying gifts for someone I don’t know very well.

Besides, Christmas shopping is my least favorite Christmas activity.  I hate
fighting the crowds, spending huge amounts of money, and much less try to
figure out just what each person wants.  I just hate this part of Christmas.
So why would I want to add to the agony?

Now, the best Secret Santa I’ve ever been a part of involved my women’s
group.  Our December theme was Celebrate Your Gifts.  Instead of assigning a
Santa to every person, we had to make or provide a gift which had special
significance to us.  We put all the gifts on a table and after our lunch, we
would each go over and pick a gift.

Then we would sit in a circle.  And as each person opened their gift, the
giver would explain why she made or bought that gift.  The gift exchange was
incredibly personal and emotional.

I always wrote a poem for my gift.  At first, I would put my poem with a
card and envelope.  Then I noticed it always the last gift chosen, because
who wants just a card?  So I started buying a small present to go with it,
the poem was disguised, and my gift was picked quickly from then on.

Now, once our fingers touched our chosen gift, that’s when the magic
happened.  Somehow, the gift knew how to draw the rightful recipient to it,
and the gift which had meaning for giver, always had a special significance
for the receiver as well.

We began placing boxes of Kleenexes around in strategic places in the
circle.  The emotions surrounding the giver and receiver were so strong and
overwhelming that the tears would flow.  It was an incredible experience, an
experience where the magic of Christmas truly appeared.

Hole in the Sky

end of fall
reds, browns, yellows discarded
by the artist
now lay on the ground

warm air slinks south
cool air claims its territory
a paler light stretches shadows
and darkness engulfs them

bumbling grayish clouds
hug the earth
a wrinkled blanket
worn from tossing and turning

the moon peers through
a hole in the sky
holding its breath
momentarily pausing

silent flurries dust green needles
paint dark roofs
sketch bleached forms
as winter begins

Margaret R. Kramer
margaretkramer at comcast.net
margaret.kramer at polarispublications.com

A Christmas candle is a lovely thing;
It makes no noise at all,
But softly gives itself away.
~Eva Logue