How to (nearly) meet your Maker while playing Santa

Immediately after Thanksgiving each year - even before the leftover turkey grows cold - I begin donning my Santa suit and visiting the homes of many a needy family in my beloved Bristol, carrying my bonafide Santa sack filled (and re-filled) with toys, games, books, food, and clothes. (I must gleefully note that this Santa would make nary such a trip without the immense generosity of my many friends, who donate so readily to this cause each Season.)

And what to do if a child believes not that I’m really ol’ St. Nick?

Oh, I carry a few lumps of coal in my pocket for such heretics. Indeed, I place a lump visibly into their stocking if I can find it. If not, I plop a big ol’ lump right smack into their little hand. Not kiddin’.

How quickly such an apostate child will feign belief again! Ho! Ho! Ho!

(I should interject here that this Santa never leaves just a lump of coal for any child. Oh, but this Santa does like to have some old-fashioned fun teasing with them now and then.)

During one Santa visit I handed an especially grouchy and spunky wee urchin a lump of coal. She promptly proceeded to hurl it toward me with all her might. The lump of coal hit me squarely between my eyes. I immediately thought of the Philistine giant, Goliath, getting hit in this exact same spot with a similarly well-aimed projectile hurled by the shepherd boy, David.

Unlike the famed giant of the Old Testament, however, I did not meet my Maker. Yes, I teetered and wobbled around a bit, but I did not fall. Yes, it nearly knocked me out. I had a big bump there for several days. Yes, the lass was harshly reprimanded by her parents. Yes, I hugged her anyway and told her I forgave her (after all, that’s what Santa would do, right?). The little girl sobbed heavily and hugged me tightly with immense and apparently sincere penance. I eventually staggered on my way, a bit dizzy and dazed - and quite happy I did not go the way of Goliath.