Does She, or Doesn’t She?

Friday, December 14, 2007

Page 15

AT THE SIDEBAR (Column)

Does She, or Doesn’t She?

By J’AMY PACHECO

About this time each year, I start wondering if the coming Christmas holiday will be the “the one.”

For more than a decade, I’ve helped my daughter set out cookies and milk for Santa, carrots for his reindeer, and a tiny piece of cheese for Santa Mouse on Christmas Eve. For more than a decade, I’ve watched her eyes light up with wonder as she sees what has been eaten, and what has been left under our Christmas tree the next morning.

Several years ago, I started worrying about the Scrooges of the world. Some of her fellow students – some as young as six or seven – began voicing their doubts about the big, jolly guy in red. On a few occasions, my daughter would beat around the bush seeking reassurance that Santa is real.

I’ve read Francis P. Church’s famous 1907 editorial, “Yes, Virginia, There is a Santa Claus.” I accept his assertion that Santa “exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist.” I agree that the mere fact that I’ve never seen him in action is no indicator that he doesn’t exist.

I’ve put a lot of effort into helping my daughter believe anything is possible. For example, she wants with all her heart to become a USC Trojan someday. I don’t know how we’re going to fund that hefty tuition, but I’ve encouraged her to pursue that dream.

My efforts haven’t been limited to “real world” subjects. She’s been captivated by the story of Peter Pan since she was old enough to comprehend the books I read to her, and adores Tinker Bell. When we watch our favorite pixie fly at Disneyland, I clap just as hard as she does to ensure Tink’s safe journey over the castle. She knows I believe in fairies, because I believe anything is possible.

When she reports having heard from another child that something fanciful isn’t real, I make the same suggestion – have them prove that it’s not. I suggest to her that she shouldn’t change her beliefs in anything just because of peer pressure – that she should make informed decisions based upon the evidence presented.

The world is a strange and wonderful place where the unexplained happens every day. I’ve often repeated the story of the time I was working in downtown Los Angeles and a city bus pulled out right in front of me. I knew there was a car to my left, but faced with the choice of hitting the bus or a car, my survival instinct made me jerk my car into the left lane. The expected crash never came, and when I’d missed the bus and pulled back to the right, I looked over my shoulder. There was indeed a car there.

I have no idea how I missed that car. Logic tells me the car swerved into oncoming traffic to miss me, and pulled back. But based upon the amount of traffic on the road that day, it seems unlikely. It’s been at least 20 years, but I still think something miraculous happened that day.

I’ve also told the story about how I once made fun of my sister for reporting she’d been visited by the ghost of our then-recently deceased grandmother. Each sibling, as well as my mother, had reported some sort of odd experience that made them wonder if they’d had some sort of contact with Grandma shortly after her death. I scoffed at them.

But while telling the story to a friend, I suddenly remembered having awakened in the middle of the night several times to the smell of nail polish. While I almost never paint my own nails, I had given my grandmother a manicure nearly every week. That realization was enough to make me swear off making fun of anybody for believing in the fantastic. Now I encourage it.

I’ve continually assured my daughter that as long as she believes in Santa, he will continue to visit our house. So far, that’s been the case. But I can’t help wondering when that will change, and what – if any – my role should be when it does.

Church said the world would be “dreary” without Santa Claus.

“There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence,” he wrote. “We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The external light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.”

I’m not certain if my daughter truly believes in Santa, or if she is humoring me in the hope that none of our holiday traditions will change. Frankly, I don’t care.

The world can always use a little magic and wonder, so I’ll go on clapping for Tink and setting out cookies and cheese, and believing anything is possible.

And if I wake up smelling nail polish in the near future, I’ll know that even Grandma agrees.