I Outed Santa Claus
December 1952, South Hempstead, New York
By Andrea Rouda
We Jews are a lonely lot on Christmas. While our Christian friends are snuggled in front of a cozy fire, opening gifts and scarfing down plum pudding — I once dated an Episcopalian so I know — we sit huddled together on wooden benches, eating gefilte fish and reading aloud from the Torah.
OK, not really, but that’s how it feels to me. Despite the growing commercialization of Hanukah, Christmas will always be Numero Uno. And despite my own participation in the festivities, baking the occasional sugar cookie and mailing cards to distant friends, December 25th finds me bereft from dawn ’til dusk.
There’s little to do but wait it out. Everything is closed except for the 7-11, and believe me, after the coffee and donuts and an hour or two scanning magazines, that’s pretty much played. As for TV, how many times can you watch Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed discover that “It’s a Wonderful Life” after all?
Growing up in the New York City suburbs in the late ’50s, in the shadow of St. Agnes Cathedral, ours was one of only two Jewish families living on a street full of hardened Catholics. Holidays of any sort ignited full-blown block parties involving anyone who owned a Tupperware container. Naturally in such an environment, Christmas was a big deal, spawning an array of blinking colored lights, glowing rooftop reindeer, and giant candy canes worthy of a Fellini dream sequence. Among all the holiday glitz, two houses remained dark: ours and the Shreibmans, who lived across the street.
It may sound ordinary, but what set Willow Street apart was that Santa Claus, in the flesh, visited every house on Christmas Eve. (Apparently our street was the rest stop on his round-the-world tour.) He did the whole milk-and-cookies bit, leaving behind a gift for every child. He even came to our house, he being an all-inclusive, non-denominational Santa.
One snowy Christmas in my 6th year, as I was hurrying to get home before dark after a spirited snowball fight, I noticed something odd at Joanne Rooney’s house. There was a light on in the garage, and there was a man dressed only in his long underwear! Boy, he must be cold, I thought. Then I noticed, hey, he looks like Mr. Rooney, but when did he get so fat? He was stuffing a pillow into his suit, and wait a minute, that suit looks familiar. The sack of toys, the white beard, the black boots - Jew or no Jew, I knew Santa when I saw him. Joanne Rooney’s father was Santa Claus!
Still reeling from the recent shock of learning that my mother was the Tooth Fairy, I plopped down into a snowdrift to catch my breath, all the while watching Mr. Rooney complete his transformation into Old Saint Nick.
Bursting with the news, I raced home and confronted my parents, demanding some fast answers about a certain Irishman and a red velvet suit. After some preliminary stalling, they caved, explaining that Mr. Rooney was “helping” Santa. “Promise you won’t tell any of the other kids,” my mother begged, a haunted look of terror in her eyes. “Do you promise?”
“Yeah, sure, I promise,” I said, but that promise didn’t apply to my very best friend who lived right next door! Suzanne was French, and certainly could be trusted; since returning from a Thanksgiving visit to her grandparents in France, she had all but forgotten English anyway. Unfortunately her older sister, bilingual and big-mouthed, overheard me, and before you could say “Katy Couric” the story hit the street.
Of course there were the usual skeptics who assumed I was just bitter about the Holocaust, but most of the kids conducted their own research, pulling at Santa’s beard and asking if Joanne could come out and play. The jig was definitely up.
Things were tense on Willow Street for many months. The Shreibmans fled to friendlier waters in Boca Raton, and I took to playing with the kids from my Hebrew school class. Eventually I was forgiven, mostly because there were no applicants for my position as “permanent ender” in jump rope, and Santa Rooney kept his appointed rounds the next year.
But he never stopped at our house again, leaving a void I experience anew every Christmas Eve. If I had it to do over again, I wouldn’t say a word.
Andrea Rouda is a freelance writer in Washington, DC. She has written countless articles for newspapers, magazines, and the Internet. Her comic novel, Shrink Rapt, is available at all online booksellers.
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19 Responses to “I Outed Santa Claus”
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December 18th, 2006 at 11:36 am
Funny, funny.
Take heart, Andrea, we all have “outed” Santa Claus at one time or another, especially non-Jews who have more opportunities (the uncle at the family Christmas party, the neighbor at the Moose lodge Christmas event, etc.). As toddlers, not understanding the whole thing, as little kids seeking to “figure it all out”, as middleschoolers going through our “smart-ass” phases, we’ve all done it.
Merry Christmas, Andrea and Happy Hanukah.
December 18th, 2006 at 2:03 pm
Two of my best friends are Jewish and will be delighted reading this story. Love your humor infused in this personal tale!
December 18th, 2006 at 11:59 pm
I FEEL YOU ANDREA, CHRISTMAS WAS ALWAYS A BIG DEAL AT MY HOUSE AS A CHILD. MY PARENTS WERE BIG PARTY PEOPLE, I REMEMBER PARTIES STARTING ON CHRISTMAS EVE AND PEOPLE DID NOT LEAVE UNTIL NEW YEARS MORNING. I WAS AN ONLY CHILD AT THAT TIME SO X-MAS WAS BIG FOR ME ALL THE GIFTS WERE MINE. MY DAD ONLY ALLOWED MY GIFTS UNDER THE TREE. THERE WOULD BE SO MANY. THOSE WERE GREAT TIMES. LIKE THE TOOTH FAIRY, AND FINDING OUT THAT THERE IS NO SANTA, IT LEAVES YOU WITH A SADNESS.
MY HUSBAND AND I MOVED TO TEXAS 25 YRS AGO. HOWEVER THE CHRISTMAS HOLIDAY WILL NEVER BE THE SAME FOR ME. NO REAL FAMILY HERE BUT, MY FAMILY, NOW MY THREE DAUGHTERS HAVE GONE BACK TO INDIANA WITH THE REST OF THE FAMILY. MY HUSBAND,SON AND I, ARE LEFT HERE TO TRY AND CELEBRATE A FAMILY HOLIDAY ALONE. MAYBE THE JEWISH PEOPLE ARE RIGHT CHRIST WAS NOT BORN IN DECEMBER ANYWAY. WHAT ARE WE CELEBRATING. HAPPY HANUKAH
December 20th, 2006 at 3:58 pm
Hi, Andrea! I’m a Christian who usually celebrates Christmas with great joy–but I must admit that there was a time when I treated Christmas like it was another day on the calendar. My money supply was at ZERO (I was unemployed)–so, of course, there were no presents, no tree, and no fancy Christmas goose (which I wouldn’t have eaten, anyway) to shower upon my family. In fact, I spent most of the day doing housework, dining on oatmeal and tea, and studying for my business school tests. And was perfectly happy doing so! So, don’t worry, Andrea! It can be just as grating on some of us Christians, too! Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa, and Happy New Year!
December 21st, 2006 at 12:34 pm
Glad you told your story, Andrea. I loved every word.
December 22nd, 2006 at 12:50 pm
Well well written!! this is such a great story! worthy of a radio broadcast!
xo R
December 26th, 2006 at 9:49 pm
Thanks to all of you for your generous comments, and especially you, Ramona… you made my day! Happy Holidays!
December 27th, 2006 at 6:32 pm
Andrea,
Your story reminds me of a conversation that my daughter’s teacher mentioned to her and then mentioned something else to me. My daughter’s teacher is Jewish and always feels bad when the children in her classroom talk about Christmas, saying, “not everyone celebrates Christmas”. Then, during parent teachers conference last week during Hanukkah she mentioned to me that she always wondered why they don’t have any songs or cookies during Hanukkah. She made me feel sad about her own feelings towards Christmas. I can tell you that I have many bad memories of Christmas. I feel that at times it is overrated to what others might expect or think. Christmas is a state of mind. It is not commericialism or how much retail stores made on sales that effect our economy, but it is a state of mind. Your story was really good and made me reflect on how other’s feel. God Bless!
December 28th, 2006 at 9:17 pm
What a delightful tale. Sorry Mr. Rooney turned Grinch on you. Where was HIS sense of humor? Judy
January 1st, 2007 at 4:06 pm
First, I loved your story. It is touching and amusing. You are an excellent writer, as well. I’ll keep my eye open for your byline.
Second, I can identify with your Christmas isolation, since I am…a Flaming Atheist! You think being Jewish during Christian holidays is hard? I wish I could “out” all deities. Unfortunately, it is not a scenario that lends itself to humor, so I’ll restrain myself.
Mazel tov!
January 4th, 2007 at 6:44 pm
Very nice story!! I have been reading quite a few on the web site and I like your style of writing. I read that you are a free lance writer. I am looking to anyone who can help me find my own way into the freelance world. I am trying to start small. Any suggestions for new writers? Thanks for submitting a wonderful story. Maybe one day you can dressup as Santa yourself and make a child smile!!!
January 4th, 2007 at 10:04 pm
Vicki: Thanks for the compliment. My suggestion is to start locally with your city newspaper and any magazines published in your area. Write about what you know, and pitch stories frequently. Editors are always looking for features; they will respond if you are persistent. Address story ideas to the specific section or magazine editor, NOT just randomly to the newspaper or magazine. Also, invest in a copy of 2007 Writer’s Market; it’s worth it.
January 5th, 2007 at 6:04 pm
I am a Hindu, but I love Christ. His sayings and acts have much in common with the holy people of all faiths. His birthday is certainly worth celebrating. No one needs to feel alone at Christmas, because we can all seek communion with Christ, and can find joyful inspiration through communion with him. I do agree that raucous festivities by all shades of agnostics on his birthday does not seem appropriate, but I guess that each of us is free to follow his or her own spirituality.
January 8th, 2007 at 11:34 am
Thanks so much for the advice!! I actually bought the writer’s market a couple weeks ago. I will contact my local paper as well!!! I look forward to reading more of your articles!!!!
January 31st, 2007 at 12:14 pm
Andrea…awesome story, hilarious writing, almost as good as mine! While growing up, my best friend, Robin, would teach me Hebrew and I’d go to Synagogue every week. I loved her mom’s matzah ball soup and the first boy I ever kissed was at a Bar Mitvah. Robin on the other hand, was forbidden to come to mass with me. At the time I didn’t get it. Now that I am an enlightened spiritual being living in San Francisco, I do. Traditions of all shapes and sizes fascinate me to this day. Funny, Jews and Catholics actually have a lot in common…guilt being the most obvious.
Anyway, back to your story, the comment about the tooth fairy cracked me up as I recalled the time my daughter swore she saw her in all of her glory describing the magical details. I am a freelance writer and children’s author always looking for a good tale. I look forward to reading more of your work.
Karen
February 6th, 2007 at 11:18 am
Thanks Karen, I enjoyed your comments immensely and appreciate the compliment. You are so right about Jews and Catholics sharing qualities. As for seeing more of my work, I’m not sure this is the place: I have submitted many more stories but none has been accepted. My novel, “Shrink Rapt,” which is available at Amazon.com, has a lot more of those stories!
March 5th, 2007 at 4:26 pm
Awwww…. What a sweet story. Too funny!
July 22nd, 2007 at 4:23 pm
Great story. I remember when patrons at my father\’s shop wished me a \”Merry Christmas\” when I was 8 years old and I shouted back, full force, that I was Jewish and did not celebrate Christmas.
My father was quite embarrased by my outburst.
August 22nd, 2007 at 6:50 am
Thanks for all the positive feedback! To read more of my work, click on:
http://www.rafterjumpon.com/view_rafters.php5?id=458&vote=up