Peppermint Sparkles and Santa Claus (above)
My brother Eric and I were both actors growing up. Though
we were both paid to walk on stages at times (an accomplishment in itself!), as
a lifelong career, it was not to be. Life
had different ideas for both of us.
For me, it was a having a family. Though I still performed occasionally when my
kids were small, I knew it would go no further than an extended engagement. My real vocation was writing for the stage, a
craft that allows you to create from anywhere and send your work out to the
wider world. Still, if you’ve ever
enjoyed performing for audiences, there are times when that little itch can
become a downright irritating rash…that’s when I’ll tune my guitar and start
looking for an open mic night.
It happened in a couple of stages for my brother
too. He made it much further than I ever
did, actually supporting himself as an actor.
Blessed with a tenor voice that could’ve only come from the angels, he
could work musicals or straight shows.
In a pinch a cabaret was fine. He
could do comedy and drama. What he
couldn’t do was keep going thinking that things were going to get easier as his
thirties…and his knees…and his tired vocal cords…were slipping away.
At that point, becoming a cruise director was a
logical choice. Never at a loss when it
comes to pressing the flesh, that was half of a cruise director’s job and,
oh! Was he good at it! You could tell that the vacationers believed
that where Eric went was where the fun was.
The job even afforded him the opportunity to get up on stage and joke
with the audience as he introduced activities or entertainers. Occasionally, he would hit it off with a
fellow performer and they would work up a song and do a little routine as part
of the show.
Alas, it is a small world even on the largest of
cruise ships. You work from sunrise
until well after midnight. You have
minimal privacy, even with a private cabin.
The problems are the same, only the drunken vacationers are
different. If you ever worked in
customer service eight hours a day, you know what it means to want an opportunity
to shout STFU in someone’s face. Yet, at
the end of the day, you got to go home.
On a cruise ship, you’re already home.
He made it about three years. Amazing, really, when you think about
it. I’m not sure I would have made it
three hours. Typically I am averse to
drunk vacationers unless they happen to be me.
If life as an actor prepares you for anything, it’s
being willing to take the big chances. Eric took his on the mainland, in Florida, so
he could continue to enjoy the tropical weather with his new wife, Renee. The
job was the same, really, vacationers testing the boundaries of sobriety and propriety
at every turn, but Eric was able to go home at night, to his Honey and their
little dogs…it made a difference. He
settled in Orlando and bought a house, the first he had ever owned. He got his voice back. He had his knees fixed.
My fellow actors know this…you can SAY you are through
with theatre but nothing is official until theatre says it is finished with
YOU. As it turns out, Eric had been
rehearsing all along…for the role of a lifetime. The resort where he worked decided to mount a
production, a Christmas show, for their guests who come and stay over the
holidays. Who better to spearhead such
an effort? Second and more importantly,
who will play Claus?
Well, you’d need someone tall (and Eric is over six
foot), able to communicate with an audience full of children (check), maaaaybe
a bit on the heavy side (and the good life had left him with a few extra
pounds) and of course, always nice to include a Christmas song, so, how about a
singer (double check)? Add in a real
beard and some pretty people in elf outfits, you got a show!
It didn’t stop there.
It progressed. Every year, a
little more was added. Another song,
another character. At the end of the
show it snows….yes, snow! In Orlando, Florida!
Being an enterprising man, Eric discovered that there
were good paying engagements for a bearded fella with his talent and a certain
red suit. All the way up to the holiday
he earned a generous wage at corporate gigs for kids to sit on his lap and
share their deepest hopes and desires.
Your average Santa is done on Christmas Eve, as soon as the mall
closes. But this is no ordinary Santa.
For a set of triplet boys, Santa would appear every
Christmas morning, unpacking their gifts from his big red bag. Year after year, the three of them would roll
out of bed and be served by the man himself.
I should caution that this didn’t come cheap, but what a memory those
parents made for their children. Can you
imagine those boys when their classmates said Santa ‘wasn’t real’?
Even little boys grow up though. The parents of the triplets decided that at eight
years old, at least one of them would be hearing some hard truths about Yuletide
legends and was unlikely to keep it to themselves. There would be one last Christmas visit from
jolly old Saint Nick.
But how do you explain your future absences to babies
that have grown up with you? When Claus
quits coming does a child stop believing?
It’s such a short time they have to enjoy the fantastical stories we
spin around our traditions. With a few
weeks until Christmas, Eric stewed over what he would say. He finally settled on the truth, or at least
a version of the truth. This is why I
say he was preparing for the role of a lifetime.
When he ho-ho-hoed his way into their living room for
the last time, he distributed the gifts as he always did and received the
appreciation back from the children as usual.
But at the end, Santa had added one little codicil…
“Now boys, I need to talk to you,” he said solemnly,
kneeling down on a titanium knee. The
boys moved forward conspiratorially. I
think if he had told the boys to rob a liquor store at that moment, he could’ve
been drinking Cristal on the way home. “I’m not going to be able to come see
you anymore,” he said to their three shocked faces. “There are kids younger than you who aren’t
sure if they believe in Santa and I need to go and visit THEM on Christmas
morning. Do you understand?” It took a second, but they came around to
agreeing with the jolly old elf.
“One more thing,” he added. “I will still bring you your presents…don’t
worry about that…but I want you to give something to each other, and your Mom and
Dad, and help me keep the Christmas spirit alive. Will you do that for me?” The boys looked at each other and nodded to
Santa with resolve and just the slightest trace of smiles. He had made the sale.
I don’t know what Eric made during his career on
stage. I’m sure it wasn’t as much as he deserved. Even if it was FAR more than
I suspect, it wasn’t enough.
You can’t put a price on believing in Santa for even
one more day.
