Read Online A Christmas Jar for Santa: A Christmas Jars Story by Jason Wright - Free Book Online

A Christmas Jar for
Santa
    A Christmas Jars
Story
     
    I’m not much of a
writer, but I figure I should tell this
story. You see, this Christmas was the best I ever had, and I’ve
had a lot of great Christmases. You could say that Christmas is my
job these days.
    See, I’m already ahead of
myself. You need to know some things before what happened last week
will make any sense to you. And I really want it to make
sense.
    Let’s start back in ’54.
The Korean War had just ended, and my angel Pauline—God rest her
soul—was waiting for me to come back so we could get married. We
were hardly ever apart from the day of our wedding until the day of
her funeral.
    We tried to have children,
but it wasn’t supposed to be. That’s what Pauline said, anyway. She
always loved kids, and I guess it rubbed off on me,
eventually.
    Christmas became really
special to us because of the kids. Pauline volunteered us for
everything around the holidays, especially anything that involved
children. She would get such a look on her face when she was with
them. She would look down at a fresh- scrubbed, freckled
five-year-old face and then look up at me and tell me with her eyes
how much it hurt to have to borrow other people’s kids. No matter
how many times she told me it wasn’t my fault, part of me
wondered.
    After leaving the Army, I
went to work in a factory. By the time I retired, my hair was
completely white. I was only sixty, but I guess it was just time.
That Christmas, Jake Carnahan, the church Santa, took ill, and
Pauline talked me into taking his place. I’ve been doing it ever
since. Goodness, that was exactly twenty years ago. Six and a half
since Pauline passed on.
    Anyway, I grew a big white
beard and even put on a little extra weight—Pauline helped by being
the best cook in the valley—and basically spent half the year
getting ready for Christmas. At first, I just stood in for Santa at
the church, but then Pauline talked me into going to the hospital
over in Greenville, and the next thing I knew, I was as busy as the
jolly old man himself.
    I remember the feeling I
had the first time a little boy looked me over and finally trusted
me enough to share his Christmas wishes with me. I hadn’t been that
nervous since the war. In fact, at that moment I think I would have
been glad for a foxhole to hide in. Young Allen Christensen told me
that he wanted something called a Walkman. Well, nowadays I know
just about every toy and gadget out there, but back then I just
said what Pauline had told me to say when I couldn’t say anything
else.
    “ Have you been a good
enough boy to earn a Walking Man?” I asked in my jolliest
voice.
    “ Not Walking Man,” he said
patiently. “Walkman. It plays music.”
    “ Have you been good enough
to earn a Walkman?” I tried again.
    “ Yes, I have been very
good. Even my mom says so.”
    I panicked and looked
around for Pauline, but she had her back to me. My eyes were
finally drawn to the face of Allen’s father. He smiled and gave a
nod so slight it could only have been shared by us. “Yes, I think I
might be able to add a Walkman to your Christmas list.”
    Oh, that was a wonderful
moment. My chest swelled with so much pride and happiness that I
thought my red Santa jacket was going to pop its buttons. My
nervousness left me, and I have never been worried since. Pauline
says I’m a natural.
    I’ve had hundreds of kids
tell me what they want for Christmas. Only Santa Claus himself has
taken more orders, I reckon. Some requests were pretty unusual.
Katherine Collier was really too old to be asking Santa for
presents, but as her mother said, she was “covering her bases.” She
looked me right in the eye and told me she was expecting a real,
living, full-sized horse. “I don’t expect it to be under the tree,
of course,” she said. “Out in the yard will be fine.”
    By then, I had learned a
thing or two. “Horses and such are special requests. You should
send a letter to the