Ho ho ho!

Teaching 4th & 5th graders about Georges Seurat & Pointillism gave me the opportunity to wish you a Merry Christmas

Annual Christmas Exclusive

Mapleton readers may not have been aware that since this column has appeared in the now absorbed Schleswig and Charter Oak-Ute papers I have been privileged to be able to obtain an exclusive annual interview with a seasonal celebrity. This year I received a phone call from the North Pole during my free period at school the last week in November. Here now is a transcript of that conversation:

TM: Feliz Navidad, Kris

SC: Mele Kalikimaka, Ted

TM: Kris, I’m excited about this year’s interview because it will be published on your birthday, December 6!

SC: Ho Ho, well, I’ll be busy leaving little presents in children's shoes as "Sinterklaas" in Belgium and the Netherlands on that day. But I will have visited Charter Oak a couple of days before that.

TM: Yes, and I’d like to take the opportunity to thank all of the businesses and volunteers who make that night possible. I know my kids always love it. Our two year old has been telling me for weeks that she’s not afraid of you anymore, but I guess we’ll see that night if she musters the courage to actually sit on your lap.

SC: Bells will be ringin', children singin' All will be merry and bright!

TM: Let’s get down to brass tacks, shall we? You’re a resident, is it true that global warming is melting the polar ice cap?

SC: We’re certainly doing out part as far as Claus Conglomerated goes. We’ve switched over almost entirely to solar and wind energy instead of wood burning, but I’ve got to tell you, many of the elves do miss the ambiance, but they’ll get over it. I never have been one to ever use fossil fuels, frankly. We are currently looking into some polar bear relocation programs, but we’ve always been about gift distribution, not animal rehabilitation. However, it’s principally a matter of logistics, and after all, we already take care of herds of reindeer, so it isn’t too much of a stretch.

TM: What about all that coal?

SC: First of all, I’ve never burned it, I only put it in “naughty” stockings, and candidly, I’ve been pretty lenient the last couple of decades on that score. Be that as it may, some of the elves have been working on alternatives, including rocks, spit-wads, and of course marshmallow “snowman poop,” ho ho!

TM: What’s the best way to make sure you stay off the naughty list?

SC: Ho Ho, just hang your stockings and say your prayers! Then, when you hear those sleigh bells jingle jangle, Oh what a beautiful sight- just jump in bed and cover your head, ‘cause that means I’m on my way that night!

TM: How do you feel about all the talk about a “war on Christmas?”

SC: Look, who’s kidding who, and who’s declaring war on whom? Christmas is a phenomenon that is too huge to be damaged somehow by political or cultural tensions. Christmas transcends contention. Personally, I suspect that anyone who thinks there’s a war on Christmas is just trying to get attention for themselves by stirring up anxiety.

TM: What about those who say that it should be reserved as a sacred, religious observance?

SC: Listen, people were celebrating the solstice and plenty of pagan pageantry long before Jesus’ birthday, and Hanukkah took place almost 200 years before that Silent Night too. So what if you have people wanting to add Kwanza or Ramadan too? I know Jesus, and I know that He certainly doesn’t need anyone to defend Him or fight for him. First of all, He’s got that omnipotent thing going for him, secondly, He’s very humble. He always puts others before Himself. The reason He deserves all the glory is that He’s not a glory-hound. Read Philippians chapter 2 if you don’t believe me.

TM: What do you say to people who think that you seem to compete with the Christ child? Even eclipse Him?

SC: Hey, I’m so devout; I even fasted twice a week when I was a nursing baby! I’ve never asked anyone to worship me and I’m not even looking for veneration for myself. I was a young priest during the persecution of Christians under the Roman Emperors Diocletian and Maximian. As Bishop, oversaw the demolition of several pagan temples including the temple of Artemis. Her birthday was supposed to be on December 6, that’s why they made that day a Christian feast day in my honor. I was at the Council of Nicaea. Maybe you’ve heard of the Nicene Creed? I lived four years outside of Bethlehem on a pilgrimage. Somebody think I’m not religious enough? Bring it on.

If people want to get in a huff about Christmas not being about Jesus’ birth anymore, they need to take a look at their MasterCard and Visa bills. Don’t blame me. I’m about interceding on behalf of children, sailors, and the wrongly accused- not crass consumerism.

No, I never died for anybody’s sins, but I spent my whole life and most of the afterlife working for the one who did. So quit trying to use me as some kind of “wedge issue.”

TM: There you have it folks, he doesn't care if you're rich or poor he loves you just the same. Santa Claus knows we're all God’s children and that makes everything right.

SC: Ho Ho, So fill your hearts with Christmas cheer. Peace on earth will come to all if we just follow the light so lets give thanks to the Lord above, and I’ll see you on Christmas night!


Many of Santa's quotes are from Gene Autry, Oakley Haldeman's 1947 song,"Here comes Santa Claus."
'Ted's Column' has appeared weekly in the Charter Oak-Ute NEWSpaper since 2002. You can see all of Ted's cartoons at http://tmal.multiply.com

Annual Exclusive

Annual Exclusive
Thursday, December 14, 2006- Charter Oak-Ute NEWSpaper & Schleswig LEADER

8:30 or so last Thursday night I sat down in a booth in the bar in Charter Oak to visit with a very old friend.

“Merry Christmas Ted.”

“Merry Christmas Chris. You know, even though we’ve been doing this for a few years now, I still can’t get over the fact that you can spare the time to grant a virtual amateur like me an interview like this.”

“Ho, ho,” he chuckled, “Well, not to discourage or disparage you at all, but I’ll admit that the biggest reason I do is so that I can thank all the good folks in the commercial clubs and community clubs of the towns that these newspapers serve for all the hard work and resources that they commit when they invite me to visit the kids in their towns.”

“Well, thank you for coming to town,” I told him, “My own girls certainly had a ball. They loved taking their picture with you, the devoured the treats in the goodie bags and they were thrilled with the door prizes they won. I know I appreciate the turkey my wife won!”

“Ho, ho, well, you know it takes a lot of volunteers and businesses to make those Santa Nights happen. I don’t mean to play favorites, but I think they’re far better than just coming to see one of my stand-ins at some big mall in a major suburb.”

“I’ll say, not just the meal and all the friends and neighbors but you get to take your own picture or pay just a buck for Polaroid as opposed to dropping fifteen or twenty bucks into a photo package.”

“Think globally, shop locally!”

“You know, you must really love kids and you sure have to have tough knees. Something I’ve always wondered, did you ever have kids of your own? And if you do, do you ever bring them along on your long trip?”

“Ho, ho, no, no… you’re forgetting, I’m a man of the cloth, married to the Lord and the work He gives me. Sure, I love kids, but could you imagine taking them along on a 24 hour road trip? How many bathroom breaks? How many times would I have to listen to ‘are we there yet?’ No thanks. One of the perks of my job is that I get to drop in, spread some joy and then the kids go home with their parents while I get to go home, put my feet up and enjoy the peace and quiet. I’m sort of like a grandparent that way.”

“All the movies and TV specials show you with a Mrs. Claus,” I protested.
“Myth is more powerful than truth. People believe what they want to and America especially has gone out of its way to reinvent me into a Grandfatherly role. People in this day and age aren’t comfortable with a bachelor cavorting with children, understandably so, I suppose.”

“But don’t you ever wish you’d met that right woman?”

“Too busy for too many years.”

“So you don’t even date?”

“I still keep busy, besides, when you’re over 1,500 years old you don’t worry about your libido very much.”

“How do you do it? To what do you ascribe your incredible longevity?”

“I guess the Lord’s not done with me yet. There’s still plenty to do.”

“Wow… say, people are going to want to know, how exactly can you make your trip all in one night anyway? What is the magic?”

“Just that, no big secret, just Christmas magic. Of course, not everyone celebrates Christmas, not everyone who does still believes in me, and not everybody celebrates Christmas on December 25. I’m Greek Orthodox, you remember, then there is plenty of folks who celebrate St. Nicolas day separate from Christmas… and of course it’s not as if I do it all at the stroke of midnight- there are time zones, you know. Midnight here is only ten o’clock on the West coast.”

“Don’t you have trouble with governments for violating restricted air space?”

“My cruising speed is about Mach 3, even the U.S. and Russian Air Forces have a hard time even spotting me on their most advanced radar. Besides, I have a long standing relationship with the boys at N.O.R.A.D.”

“Still, hat if some hostile nation tried firing a SCUD missile at you or something?”

“Fruit Cake.”

"I beg your pardon?"

“You’ve heard of potato guns? My sleigh is equipped with R.P.F.C.- Rocket Propelled Fruit Cakes.”

“You have GOT to be kidding me!”

“Hey, listen, your own General Washington once used them when he ran out of cannon balls during the Revolutionary War. What else are you going to use them for? Door stops?”

the 1,200 year old man

I sat in the booth at the truck stop waiting for Nick. We were meeting for my annual exclusive interview. It was not like him to not be punctual, but I had been waiting almost a half an hour past the time we had agreed to meet.

The next think I knew, an ancient looking man approached my table. He couldn’t have been more than five foot tall. He was dressed all in green suede and didn’t speak.
He placed a small envelope on the table in front of me, tipped his hat and left. Inside was a small card on very formal stationary with a web- address on it and a short not that said, “Mr. C sends his regrets, but a member of his team will meet you here.”

It turned out that the address was a private chat-room. I generally avoid chat-rooms, bulletin boards and especially instant-messengers. It’s not so much that I’m afraid of anything like opening my computer to viruses or anything, it’s just that if I wanted to talk to someone in real time, I’d rather be with them face to face, or at least on the phone.

I logged on to the Wild-Wild Web and checked into the chat-room as directed. Almost immediately, I was greeted:

CHB: Thank you for meeting with me.

TM: Hello, to whom am I speaking- or reading, as the case may be.

CHB: My name is ‘Calminaion Heldere Bekendheid,’ I am an elf. Mr. C was detained by an unforeseen engagement. He thought that you might not mind interviewing one of us this year as something different.

TM: Oh, Okay, umm, boy, how do you pronounce a name like that? Do you have any nicknames?

CHB: You can call me Bob.

TM: Uh, how long have you been an elf?

CHB: My whole life. How long have you been a human? What kind of a question is that? I was told that you were an experienced journalist.

TM: Okay, okay, Please forgive me. I wasn’t prepared to interview an elf. Let me try again...um...
Oh, I know, how old are you?

CHB (a.k.a. Bob): Boy, you’re a real soft-touch, aren’t you? Do you start all your interviews so impolitely?

TM: Oh, I’m sorry again. Are elves sensitive about their ages?

CHB: Aren’t you? No matter, I was born in 805 A.D. Don’t you have any more important questions? Say about Christmas, or Santa Claus?

TM: Wow. Uh, where are you from? Originally, I mean- I assume you’re from the North Pole now.

CHB: Never assume anything. That whole North Pole thing is a myth, but then, I suppose that as far as you’re concerned, so am I. You couldn’t find my home town on a map. My kind are from behind the gossamer veil between realms.

TM: Well, Saint Nicholas is originally from Macedonia, what is now Turkey. Is where you’re from going by a different name today?

CHB: I TOLD you, it’s not anywhere you could find on your own.

TM: Are you saying elves are from another planet? Or another dimension?

CHB: I’m no physicist so I really couldn’t explain it to you- it’s more of a metaphysical thing anyway.

TM: Okay... well, uh, just how many of you are there?

CHB: Of me? Why, I should hope there’s only one!

TM: I mean elves? How many elves.

CHB: Well how in the Dickens should I know? Do I look like the census bureau? How many humans are there? 7 billion?

TM: Whoa? Santa has billions of elves?

CHB: Boy you humans are sure arrogant? You think you’re the only intelligent life on the planet!
First of all, he does not “have” any elves as if we’re his property or slaves or chattel. Secondly, there are only twelve of us on the team. I guess there are thirteen, but Peter’s not an elf.

TM: Only twelve? But how can you make all of those toys? How do you handle production? Who manages inventory? Don’t you elves help Santa with logistics as well?

CHB: Oy veigh! Do all of you Americans only see things through a business paradigm? Your’s is not the only Weltanschuang around, you know.

TM: Welshishwhatzit?

CHB: It’s German for ..for... well, there isn’t really an English word for it- paradigm or world-view probably come the closest. My point is that it’s very clever satire to remake Santa into your own image, but the truth is far more mysterious, even mystical. It is MAGIC, after all.

TM: Are you saying that it’s all some New Age, Neo-pagan, Norse mythology? Is there some secret information like in the da Vinci Code?

CHB: Oy veigh again! When you’re talking about Saint Nicholas, one of the signatories of the Nicean Creed! If he’s de-evolved into heresy, it’s your society’s fault, not his.
My point is, He is more a metaphor than a myth, more an analogy than anathema. Why don’t you pick up a copy of C.S. Lewis’ ‘Chronicles of Narnia’ for Christmas?

TM: I’m sorry, maybe we should just give up, I think I’m more confused now that I’ve interviewed you than before we started.

CHB: You find yourself confused a lot, don’t ya kid? Merry Christmas anyway!

Yes, Dakota, There is a Santa Claus

We take pleasure in answering thus prominently the communication below, expressing at the same time our great gratification that its faithful author is numbered among the friends of The Leader & The NEWSpaper:

Dear Editor—

I am 4 years old. Some of my friends say there is no Santa Claus. Mom says, “If you see it in the paper, it must be true.” Please be honest, is there a Santa Claus?

Dakota Williams

Dakota, I think that your little friends are mean, insensitive, snot-nosed little bullies. Kids today are in too much of a hurry to grow up. Their older brothers and sisters tell them that it’s not “cool” to believe in Santa and make them feel like their babies if they do. As a result, they have to make them feel better by picking on other little kids like you. Everyone likes to feel important, and unfortunately, everyone likes to feel powerful. I wish that we could all feel important and loved because God made each one of us and has a purpose in mind for each of us, but unfortunately our shallow, decadent materialistic society and the amoral, market-driven media have conditioned us all to believe that there are pretty much only three or four things that make us valuable. For poor folk, its survival skills, either you’re sexy or you’re aggressive. For middle-class folk it’s pretty much all about how much stuff you have. And for wealthy folks, its all about how much influence you wield. Basically, no matter who you are, we all like to think that we are the center of our own universe.

Yes, Dakota, there is a Santa Claus. I wish I could tell you that he exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, but you know, those are things that sometimes seem to be in short supply these days. Alas! how dreary our world has become, because the icon of Santa Claus is misused as an advertising ploy. Or as a threat and a bribe to get little kids like you to obey. Or as a politically-correct, sanitized, homogenized symbol to be used in place of religious ones so that we can celebrate “something” without offending anyone by celebrating the birth of Christ, whom Saint Nicholas of Patara served, followed and strove to emulate.

It’s like when you find out that a star athlete that you once admired uses steroids or when a politician you placed hopes in breaks his campaign promises or when an anti-establishment band you listened too sold their songs to an advertising agency to use in a commercial. Or when readers find out that a character in a piece of journalism is actually a composite character, or fictional all together, like you, Dakota (oops!)

Thank God there are still little kids like you- full of wonder and excitement this time of year to prove to us that there is still childlike faith, poetry, and romance to make this existence tolerable.

Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in Spider Man. Go ahead and set up a webcam to monitor your chimney on Christmas eve to catch Santa, but even if you don’t see Santa Claus, what would that prove? The whole point of magic is that it defies explanation and sneaks around any empirical evidence we can compile. As Shakespeare put it in his play Hamlet, "there are more things... under heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

Dakota, if you haven’t seen the wonderful animated film, “The Polar Express,” based on the 1985 book by Chris Van Allsburg, you really should. I was a curmudgeon this year, an old Ebeneezer Scrooge who didn’t want to even hear any Christmas music until I watched this movie with my children. It melted my cold, cynical heart so that the Christmas spirit could come in and warm my soul.

In the Polar Express, a little boy is beginning to doubt that Santa exists. Once he meets Santa at the North Pole he is given a chance to ask Santa for anything he wants. All he asks for is one jingle bell from Santa’s sleigh. The only people who can hear the bell ring, are those who believe in Santa. Just because your friends or many adults can not hear the bell ring, does not mean that it doesn’t continue to ring.

I think that the Editor at the New York Sun who wrote another little girl, named Virginia, put it much more eloquently than I can when he wrote:

“You tear apart the baby’s rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived could tear apart. Only faith, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.”

“No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives and lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay 10 times 10,000 years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.”

Annual Exclusive Interview

I wouldn’t have recognized him when he came in if he hadn’t been smoking the Meerschaum pipe that he told me he would be. Of course, he likes to travel incognito. I sat down in the booth across from him and took out my reporter’s notebook and pen. He had a Carhart jacket on a if he were just another farmer, and Dickie’s jeans, but wide red suspenders, like you might expect from him, and a buffalo plaid flannel shirt.

He asked me if I’d like a cup of coffee and he flagged down the waitress to order some for me. He welcomed me with a disarming grin as I sat down.

“How are you kiddo?” he asked.

“I’m good , Nick, just getting over my annual cold. How about you? Besides busy, I mean.?”

“Well, I’ll be honest with you, I’ve been better” he sighed.

“I’m so sorry, what’s wrong?” A nervous feeling pulled at my stomach. This was like seeing your father cry for the first time. He isn’t supposed to ever have anything wrong with him.

“It’s nothing, I probably shouldn’t have even mentioned it. Every so many years or so I sort of go through a bit of a funk. Nothing major. My version of Seasonal Affective Disorder, I suppose” he revealed.

“A funk. What kind of funk could you possibly have, I thought that you’re supposed to always be, well, jolly.”

“Well, see that’s part of it. People don’t allow me to be human. I have limitations, I have feelings, I even have off-days. I know I shouldn’t feel sorry for myself. I usually manage to keep my focus on others. That’s something that everyone should do. It’s the surest way to experience joy. I guess I’m having another one of my identity crisis’s.”

“Identity crisis?”

“Well sure. You’d have one too, if you were me. I was a philanthropist, a missionary, a Church leader. There were all kinds of expectations put on me. I always tried to point people to the Lord and to Scripture. The last thing I’d ever want to do is to eclipse my Lord. But when He performs a few miracles through you, people start seeing you as some kind of super hero.”

“Miracles, I knew about leaving gold in the stockings of the poor girls without dowries, but I didn’t know about any miracles, give me an example” I asked.

“Well,” he scratched his head, “A scary thing happened on my way to the Council of Nicea. (as in Nicean Creed) I stopped at an Inn along the way. There was a terrible famine. I was surprised that the innkeeper seemed to have plenty of food. I was appalled to discover that he was butchering children and intended to serve them to his unsuspecting guests. I prayed and God restored and revived three boys that had been packed in a salt barrel. The innkeeper was so shocked by the miracle that he repented and converted to Christianity.”

“Holy guacamole!” I said. “No wonder you became so famous.”

“After my death, my fame continued to spread throughout Europe and Asia.” He continued. “Fame is a cruel mistress. Anyone would have an identity crisis if they had so many people with their own ideas of who they think you are. I was declared the protector of children, virgins, merchants, and sailors and even the patron saint of Russia.”

I piped in- “Arlo Guthrie once pointed out that you wore a red suit, so you must be a communist. And a beard and long hair, so you must be a pacifist. He said “What’s in that pipe that he’s smoking?”

“If you must know, it’s Turkish blend of long leaf tobacco. I certainly don’t condone and even discourage smoking. It’s a filthy habit, but you try quitting a habit you’ve had for more than 1,700 years! And of course I am a pacifist, I am not now, nor have I ever been a member of the Communist party- but I told you last year that I don’t want to talk about politics. “

“As I was saying…An interesting thing about part of Russia- Siberian Christians lived in homes under the snow. They had a fire in the center and an opening at the top for the smoke. Essentially, their door was climbing a ladder through that smoke hole. I think that’s where people got the idea that I come down the chimney. They depended on reindeer for food, clothing and transportation. As Russians shared their stories about me with the Scandinavians, the reindeer and the chimney things stuck.”

“Things changed a lot with the Reformation. Some zealots not only wanted to stop celebrating St. Nicholas Day but Christmas too! Martin Luther enjoyed Christmas and saw no harm in using my example and my reputation to teach kids moral values. But it was important to other Protestants to rid Christianity of what they call 'the cult of the saints.' I appreciate that people should pray directly to the Lord, and I agree that even the greatest leaders and martyrs of the Church should be venerated, not worshiped- there’s a difference. But I can’t help feeling that we’ve lost a lot of great stories and teaching tools by wiping away so much history like that. I also wonder if that didn’t just backfire, you know.”

“What do you mean?” I interrupted.

“Well, after that, my image became much more secular, even mingled with all kinds of superstitions and pagan myths. All of a sudden I’m an elf, a pixie, “Father Christmas,” Old Man Winter, or even the gods Oden or Thor!”

“Some cultures tried to make Christ Child, not Nicholas, the gift giver. That never really took off. I understand that there’s that same old debate going on in the U.S. this year. Put the “Christ back in Christmas.” Let me tell you, I know the Lord, He’s a close friend of mine. I don’t think He’s always pleased that we celebrate His birthday by going into debt.”

“One of my nicknames, “Kriss Kringle” is kind of an Americanization of the German “Christ Kindle” which means "Christ Child." Like everything else in America, my image has pretty well been homogenized and pasteurized from everybody else’s ideas. “Santa Claus,” a corruption of the Dutch “Sinterklaas,” a shortened form of “Sint Nikolaas. You see my problem? Sometimes even I don’t know what my real name is!”

“You know what,” I interjected, as if little ‘ol me could help him somehow, “Is there anything I can do? I mean, can I tell my readers to do anything for you? What do YOU want for Christmas this year?”

“You know what, just being able to talk about this and get it all off my chest may be enough. I really don’t want anything for myself. But I’ll tell you what you can do. You can tell your readers that they can go to http://www.booksforsoldiers.com on the internet to find out how they can send books to soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan.”

“They can also buy lots of prepaid phone cards and send them to the injured and recovering service men and women at the V.A. hospital in Washington, that way they can call their families for Christmas. Here’s the address-“
He pulled out an index card with this address:

Medical Family Assistance Center
Walter Reed Medical Center
6900 Georgia Avenue, NW
Washington, DC 20307-5001

“A lot of them have lost limbs. They’re not sure who they are anymore either. Are they soldiers? Are they husbands and wives, mothers and fathers, sons and daughters? Helping them get in touch with their folks during the holidays will help them reconnect and remember who they are. That will give lots of people a very Merry Christmas. That, and to keep them and all your service men and women in your prayers.”

I promised him I’d do at least that. But I think my daughters had a good ideas too. Their Great Grandma Laura brought us out a big batch of Christmas cookies and both girls have told me that I have to save some of them for him. So I will.

The Quest for the Historical Santa Claus: Pagan God, Satan, or Christian Saint

The Quest for the Historical Santa Claus: Pagan God, Satan, or Christian Saint
As regular readers know, I am a big history buff. I'm especially a sucker for Santa Claus history. This is an awesome essay on just that.

Exclusive Christmas Interview!

SN: So Ted, how have you been? Would you like another interview this year?

TM: Nick, you know I’m always up for excusive interviews with world famous celebrities like yourself

SN: Alright then, lets get started, this is my busy season, as you know.

TM: Well, how about a current events question? What do you think about the capture of Saddam Hussein?

SN: You know, I try to stay out of politics. I’m sort of a one-man Switzerland if you know what I mean. That’s one of the reasons for locating my headquarters where I do, it’s very out-of-the-way. Suffices to say He’d been on my ‘naughty’ list for a lot of years and I think it finally caught up with him.

TM: Fair enough. How about a little background? So the North Pole’s not really home? Where are you from originally?

SN: Lycia, Myra

TM: Come again?

SN: Asia Minor, not far from the modern city of Demre, on Mediterranean coast in southwest Turkey

TM: Oh, well, surely you have some opinions on Turkey’s role in Iraqi reconstruction?

SN: The Turks have no love for Saddam, but my homeland was over run by the Turks in 808. The Caliph Harun ar-Rashid was another dictator who persecuted people he considered different. So you’ll forgive me if I don’t think it’s my war.

TM: Ouch. Sorry, I didn’t mean to touch a nerve. So is it true what they say? ‘You CAN’T go home again.’

TM: Oh, well, surely you have some opinions on Turkey’s role in Iraqi reconstruction?

SN: Oh, well, in my case, you can’t even go back to Constantinople.

TM: Why’s that?

SN: Well, now they call it Istanbul.

TM: I’m getting that religious persecution is a sore point for you. Is that because people call it ‘X-Mas’ instead of Christmas?

SN: No, that’s because of Cæsar Diocletian made me a martyr in 325, the same year Constantine came to power and legalized Christianity, but a day late and a dollar short for me. Really it was General Galerius who hated Christianity and Diocletian went along with it, he was playing politics, trying to balance the interests Galerius, Maximillian, and Constantine and hold on to power. The Empire had gotten way too big and too corrupt. So you see why I hate politics. It gets in the way of helping people and it gets in the way of spreading the Gospel.

TM: S-S-S-So you’re dead?

SN: No Einstein, I’m seven hundred and three years old. I’m a spirit, of course I’m dead.

TM: Oh, sorry, gosh, you don’t look a day over 500.

SN: Thanks, I gave up smoking in the 1980’s. This is kind of dragging, can you spice it up a little?

TM: Uh, Okay, uh, don’t like politics. How about religion?

SN: Now you’re talkin’. That’s right up my alley. Did you know Lycia was St. Paul’s last stop on his way to Rome?

TM: THE Saint Paul? You got to meet St. Paul?

SN: Well, yeah, but not till 325. His missionary journeys were like 250 years before I was born.

TM: Oh, sure, I get confused.

SN: That’s alright, you’re only mortal, I should cut you some slack. At any rate, as a young man, I wanted the solitary life. I made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, where I found a place to withdraw to devote himself to prayer. But God told me that I should return home and spread His Good News. Eventually I was ordained bishop.

TM: Bishop, eh? How do you feel about the Episcopal Diocese of New Hampshire ordaining Gene Robinson their Bishop?

SN: You don’t let up do you? I thought you were different than other journalist. Is controversy all you’re interested in? I’m known for providing for the poor and needy, and delivering those who had been unjustly accused.

TM: Come on, didn’t you ever face controversy during your lifetime?

SN: Well, some people tell me I wasn’t martyred but I passed away in 334, and my body was stolen and taken to Bari, Italy in 1087. Some people claim that I performed a lot of miracles posthumously, is that controversial enough?

TM: Come on, Nick, readers want something juicy. Were you ever in a fight?

SN: I’m actually most famous for having secretly given money so that three sisters could pay dowries and marry, avoiding being sold into prostitution by their father. That’s where the whole stocking thing started, see I couldn’t just break into someone’s house, what would people think?

TM: No no no, everybody knows that stuff. These days we want our heroes to be macho, aggressive.

SN: There was that time at the First Ecumenical Council of Nicaea in 325. That infernal Lybian Arius. He claimed that Jesus wasn’t truly the Son of God. I just couldn’t help my self. He made me so angry, I walloped him one. Why, the other clergy there were so taken aback. Priests aren’t allowed to hit people you know. But they knew I was right.

TM: Wow, you go Santa! Now, be honest, is there anything now days that makes you that angry?

SN: Well, I tell ya, I don’t much care for people trying to make me out to be some kind of Nordic magician or Norse god or something. And it did break my heart when World Trade Center business destroyed tiny St. Nicholas Greek Orthodox Church, about 500 feet from ground zero.

TM: What is the ONE thing that you want readers to remember today, Christmas 2003?

SN: That’s an easy one- “For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord!” And “to all a good night!”

Yes Virginia

I don’t know why kids like these "Instant Messenger" things on the computer so well. Student’s tell me how they talk with their friends at all hours of the night on their instant messenger. If their folks have a separate phone line for the internet, girls can talk about a boy with their friends on the computer while talking to the actual boy on the phone.

I never have liked the Instant Messengers. Whenever I’m on the computer, I’m trying to get something done, to have people keep popping on trying to talk to me ends up just being an interruption. But I have to tell you, I had the most interesting conversation online the other day and I thought I might share it with you, gentle readers.

BigRedGuy:: Hey Ted, how R U? Feel like a chat?

coachmallory:: Who is this?

BigRedGuy:: My screen name ought to give it away.

coachmallory:: Frank Solich?

BigRedGuy:: No ho ho ho, if I were him I wouldn’t want to talk to a member of the press. Try again, I’ll give you a clue- I know when you’ve been sleeping…I know if you’ve been bad or good.

coachmallory:: Homeland Security Secretary Tom Ridge?

BigRedGuy:: Ho ho, no, but I’m almost as busy.

coachmallory:: Santa? Wow, why would you take time out of your busiest time of year to instant message me?

BigRedGuy:: Well, Ted, I just wanted to thank all the business people of Charter Oak for all the work they went through to make my visit there such a success for the children in your community. Since you have a weekly column in the NEWSpaper, I thought you were a natural resource for me to tap.

coachmallory:: Happy to help, Santa. It certainly was a blast. I know my little girls loved it. They got to see you and received a bag full of goodies, watched cartoons, munched on cookies, won prizes and played with all their friends from all over the area.

BigRedGuy:: Well, Charter Oak has had a long tradition of bringing me to see the kids.

coachmallory:: Oh I know! My wife Bethany was telling me about how when she was little, you gave them all a bag of peanuts and popcorn, then they’d all sit down to watch 8mm movies on a screen in the corner of the Community Building.

BigRedGuy:: And inevitably some naughty little boy would start throwing peanuts or popcorn at the screen or at one of his little friends and bedlam would soon ensue, Ho Ho!

coachmallory:: Well I bet there were quite a few boys in town who’d get coal in their stockings because of that, huh?

BigRedGuy:: Well, now you know Ted, I don’t think of myself as the purveyor of justice that a lot of people seem to think I am. The rain falls on both the just and the unjust, you know.

coachmallory:: So, you just bring presents to children, no coal?

BigRedGuy:: That’s right. I represent generosity, not vengeance, that belongs to the Lord you know, Ho Ho. And even He prefers mercy to sacrifice, you know. Besides, there are too many children who won’t have much of a Christmas at all, let alone a merry one. I don’t think they should be denied just for throwing a little popcorn.

coachmallory:: But what about that legendary list?

BigRedGuy:: Let me tell you something, my list is a lot longer than that 12,000 page Iraqi weapons of mass destruction dossier. I’ve gotten rid of most of the paperwork though, nowadayz it’s all digital. All I have to carry around is my personal electronic organizer. It’s really more of a shopping list than a naughty/nice thing- you have to be REALLY bad to get on the naughty side. I’ll let you in on a secret though, there’s not enough coal in West Virginia for Saddam and Osama’s stockings.