If You Ask Me / By Martha Knight

Spoiler alert: If you cling to the belief that Santa Clause is a jolly old elf who visits more than a billion homes on Christmas eve, whether or not those homes feature chimneys, and delivers presents as requested in personal conferences with lap-held youngsters or by letter, read no further.

I figure you need to read at a fourth grade level, or better, to read my columns. If your fourth grade is behind you, you are too old to be a Santa Claus believer, so read on.

I am confessing that I used to capitalize on belief in Santa Claus, and to conspire with parents and grandparents who had their own reasons for supporting children’s ongoing belief in Santa. Not that it was my conspiracy: I was just a part in a large company’s conspiracy. We wanted to make money off Santa. Parents and grandparents wanted us to help foster the Santa legend as long as possible.

Also, parents and grands wanted to use the Santa myth to reinforce the behavior mod they were trying to accomplish. The conspiracy was a tool they could use.

I sold Santagrams by the hundreds, every year. I was the champion Santagram seller in a wide area, so Uncle Wes told me. Uncle Wes was what we employees and agents called Western Union, the company behind Santagrams. My store in Port Allegany was a Western Union tieline agency. After I married and moved to Portville I still worked part-time for Western Union.

Sometime in November I would start selling Santagrams. The term “telemarketing” had not been coined, back then, but that is what I was doing. There was very little telemarketing, in general, so I did not encounter much hostility even from strangers when I interrupted whatever they were doing, at home, and pitched Santagrams.

These messages would be delivered on Christmas eve, to the children’s homes, by Western Union messengers, and while the kids were up.

Those children who had begun to waver in belief in Santa, and to suspect that a parent was bringing the toys and filling the stockings, couldn’t dispute the testimony of their own senses, when an actual Western Union messenger rang the bell and asked for them by name.

Western Union had a dozen or so suggested messages Santa would send the children. Some rhymed. Some had slots where the children’s names could be inserted.

But I soon found that customized messages had a mystique all their own. Savvier kids on the cusp of seeing through the Santa stuff had doubts that Santa knew when they were sleeping and when they were awake, and maintained records of whether they had been bad or good

But a telegram from Santa with references to specific badnesses or goodnesses he had observed, and noted on his lists? How could they explain that?

I was working from lists supplied to me, and adding names I obtained from others I called and from other sources.

Families with preschoolers were prospects, along with most with kids in Kindergarten and first grade. Second graders and up who still professed belief in Santa probably were milking it, or humoring their parents, but hey, a sale was a sale, and if they enjoyed that little tradition, it was fine with us.

“Dear Jimmy and Judy, You have been pretty good this year, according to my list. I will bring you some presents tonight while you are asleep. Love, Santa.”

How’s that? Convincing?

Or how about “Dear Jimmy, When you’re fast asleep, To your house I’ll creep. You are on my list of children not to miss. Love, Santa.”

That’s a little better. We discouraged “sharing,” and advised that each child receive an individual message.

The message delivery to the child’s home was helpful in reassuring that Santa knew the address and could find the place easily.

But there was much more that could be done by way of individualization, and in getting kids to mend their ways. Where Mom or Dad could admonish over and over, and get tuned out, an authentic message from Santa mentioning certain behaviors told them Santa was able to see what they were doing, or failing to do. And he wrote it down. And there would be rewards or consequences, accordingly.

So I would call a family on my list, make sure I had a parent or grandparent on the line, identify myself and my mission. I was taking orders for Santagrams (this implied that people just naturally ordered Santagrams, and I was there to help them). Those who had bought Santagrams before would just be updating their orders.

“Last year Santa mentioned that Tommy needed to do his homework and that he should not talk back to Mom or Dad. How has he been doing?”

Or “Suzy was biting her fingernails and sometimes she was not practicing her piano lesson. Is she doing better?”

The revised messages would assure the child. “Tommy, I have been so pleased to see how well you are doing your homework, but I would like you to try harder to remember not to talk back…” or “Suzy, your fingernails look better, and you are playing better all the time because you practice more. Would you practice a little longer each time, please?  Also, please be very nice to your little brother. Rudolph thanks you for the carrot you left last year…”

Some years there were no cutesy decorations on the telegrams; other years those were optional. The “wires” were transmitted from a North Pole community’s Western Union office. There were no special costumes for the delivery people (extras were hired for Christmas Eve).

I bet there are folks around who remember receiving Santagrams. Let me know.

Peace.

Drymar@gmail.com