The Day Santa Died
It was a dark day in December 1955;
the day my mother broke the news to me.
“Santa is dead,” she said. Well, perhaps I
remember it wrong. Maybe she didn’t say
“Santa is dead.” But whatever she said,
I knew that the jolly old elf had expired.
He was no more. He was gone forever,
so he might as well have died. Santa was
now dead in my mind. For awhile, I had suspected
something was amiss with the old bearded fat man.
Dreaded thoughts slipped into my mind as to
Santa’s health, but I didn’t want to face any realities
along that line because of the loss of Santa’s faithful
gift giving. I can remember the day I heard the news,
like it was yesterday. My mother was hanging sheets
on the clothesline. She brought up the subject
of Santa Claus and I thought, “uh, oh” here it
comes. And boy did it come, when the words
left her mouth and Santa died right then and there.
It was over, I had exited from the Santa Claus
world to the cold hard world of Santa Claus reality.
But, as I thought about it, I came to realize that I
would now be able to look at those little innocent kids,
who were still victims of the great Santa Claus fraud
and laugh; the little fools. I was no longer an innocent.
I was now moving into reality world and the world of
things like, “The Big Lie.” Well, pardon me, but wasn’t
the story of the red-suited fat man, who brought gifts to
all the children in one night, a big lie? Okay, it was a
harmless fun lie to entertain our kids; but really, it wasn’t
exactly the truth, was it? Santa Claus was the biggest
“Big Lie,” wasn’t he. So, I end this sad story with this sad song:
“There goes Santa Claus, there goes Santa Claus, right down Santa Claus Lane
Vixen and Blitzen hooked to the hearse are pulling on the reins
Bells are ringing, children singing a sad song with all their might
So remove your stockings and say your prayers, 'cause Santa’s not coming tonight.”
