Santa Claus at a loss when Rosie comes to tell him her troubles

By David McElroy · December 4, 2011

When I was a junior in college, I was Santa Claus for a few weeks. Seriously.

Back in those days, the biggest and most successful mall in Birmingham was called Century Plaza. If you happened to have your kid’s picture taken with Santa at Century Plaza that year, chances are one-in-four that it was me behind the red suit and fake white beard. (There were four of us who worked in shifts.)

Getting to be Santa Claus was a memorable experience for many reasons. I’ve always loved children and enjoyed working with them even then. Still, it was a harder job than I thought it would be. It’s hot inside the costume, and you’re constantly performing for hours at a time — and children are a very demanding audience. But there was one night on that job that I’ll always remember, and it had nothing to do with anything fun.

As Christmas got closer, more and more people waited in longer and longer lines to see Santa. One Saturday night very close to Christmas, I’d worked my regular four-hour shift and was scheduled to go feed my reindeer — translation: change places with the next guy — at about 6 p.m. The replacement didn’t show up, though, and I had to work the rest of the night.

Around 7:30 or so, I noticed a woman standing beyond the line all by herself. She looked alternately happy and despondent, almost like what you’d expect from someone who’s a manic depressive cycling through quick ups and downs. I didn’t think anything of it, but I was surprised to find about half an hour later that she had waited in line all by herself to see Santa Claus.

It was finally her turn and she walked toward me. The clothes she wore were tattered and kind of dirty. Her overall appearance made me suspect she was poor. She was probably in her mid to late 40s. But the thing I noticed the most was the look of loneliness and desperation in her eyes.

She sat down in my lap and I just didn’t know what do do. She put her arm around me and I could tell she was shaking. Then I noticed that there were tears running down her cheeks in slow, even streams.

She told me she wasn’t crazy and that she didn’t really know why she had come to talk to me. She said she was just lonely and scared — and didn’t have anyone else to talk to.

Somehow, she looked like a Rosie to me, and that’s what I’ve always called her in my mind. Rosie told me a little bit about herself. She told me that her husband had recently died and that she hadn’t gotten over it. She also told me that her son had been injured in a car accident the previous day and lay in a local hospital slowly dying. I don’t remember exactly why, but for some reason she blamed herself for the accident.

I don’t remember exactly what else we said. I talked to her as best I could and tried to help her. We talked about her fears and her feelings of guilt and I don’t remember what else. I just know that she cried and held onto me tightly. Then we prayed for a couple of minutes — about her and about her son. I didn’t know what else to do, so I gave her the name of a minister I knew she could call.

Then she got down and walked away. I had to shift emotional gears and go back to being happy Santa for children.

I wished after she left that I had gotten her phone number so I could make sure she got some kind of help, but I hadn’t thought of it in time.

Rosie has stayed on my mind ever since then, especially in the weeks leading up to Christmas. I don’t know what happened to her, but she’ll always serve as a symbol to me of the people around us who need help. Rosie reached the point of such desperation that she had to turn to a stranger for help.

This is a happy time of the year. Some of us celebrate the birth of Jesus. For others, it’s simply about family and giving. Either way, it’s a time of great joy. But Rosie always reminds me that it’s not a time of joy for everyone. While many of us enjoy comfortable and happy lives, there are many people who are hurting and in need. Sometimes the needs are material, but even more often, the needs are emotional and spiritual. Many people need to know that someone understands them. More importantly, they need to know that someone honestly cares about them.

As you prepare for whatever it is that you do to celebrate this time of year, keep your eyes open for people who need help — who need love and understanding. I can’t tell you how you can help. I certainly can’t tell you what you might be willing to do for others. That’s purely up to you. I’m just asking you to think about it.

And as you consider the question, think about Rosie and all the other potential “Rosies” all around you. Someone needs to show some love to them. Maybe they need you.

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I’m seeing a lot of simplistic and dishonest explanations right now for the current rioting in France. Those on the populist far right claim it’s all about Muslim immigrants to France disrupting the culture. Their message is that this sort of thing is going to happen in the U.S. unless “we defend the border.” On the far left, socialists and their fellow travelers claim the riots are all about wealthy people in France not paying enough taxes, resulting in cuts to government services. The truth is far more complicated, but it’s rooted in the decline of population growth in Europe. There simply aren’t enough young workers paying into the tax system anymore, so cuts in social services were inevitable. There is genuine cultural tension as more and more people immigrate from other countries, but government cuts to education and other services are even more important to what’s happening. The situation is complicated, so don’t let dishonest people with U.S. political agendas tell you that it happens to support whatever they were already promoting for partisan reasons.

Here’s another reason to appreciate the cats in your life: New research involving 93 countries found that places with more cats per person also tended to have happier people. The researchers say the finding fits with previous evidence that living with pets can reduce loneliness and stress while providing companionship, emotional attachment and social support. The study doesn’t prove that cats cause greater happiness, but it certainly adds to the evidence that sharing your home — and your life — with a cat might be good for you.

The company that owns Facebook and Instagram is heavily promoting its new AI-based software assistant called Muse, but people who are using it as it was designed are incredibly foolish. An early adopter of the software discovered that a few days ago when he advertised an item for sale on Facebook Marketplace — and he inadvertently gave Muse full authority to act on his behalf. The software agreed to a lowball offer made by another Facebook user and then gave that man the home address of the man for whom he was an agent. The software told the buyer that the seller was home and waiting for him. When the buyer showed up and waited angrily, the would-be buyer left an angry review for the man. And this angry man had the seller’s home address. It was only well after that that the software reported what it had done and admitted it had made a mistake. I won’t be putting that much power into the hands of any software. I think anyone who agrees to such terms is a fool. And the software’s user agreement says you’re responsible for purchases the software makes in your name. Nope.

Meet my new girlfriend. Her name is Meg. And she’s my little sweetheart. A couple of months ago, a neighbor across the street told me about a new stray in the neighborhood that she and I were both soon feeding. The cat had been very skittish about contact and she had a lot of scabs and parasites in her fur, but a trip to the vet last week revealed that she was otherwise in good health. The vet estimates her to be 1 to 2 years old. I named her for Meg Murry, the 13-year-old protagonist of Madeleine L’Engle’s wonderful book, “A Wrinkle in Time.” (Please read the book. Don’t watch the horrible movie.) Since we lost Lucy almost a year ago, it seems appropriate that we finally have a new little girl to join the household. She’s already captured my heart, but Alex, Oliver and Sam aren’t there quite yet.

There’s nothing socially acceptable that’s as dangerous as drinking alcohol. Most people grow up being told to “drink responsibly” — and all of us see people abusing this drug in one way or another — but the truth is that drinking alcohol is always a terrible risk. The alcohol in these drinks is toxic and the human liver has to work hard to filter the toxins out. What most people don’t realize is that alcohol is classified as a known carcinogen by the World Health Organization — because of the well-established connection between imbibing and various cancers. Many people have taken refuge behind the idea that light or moderate drinking might be safe, but a new study shows that drinking even one drink a day increases the risks of 10 types of cancer. When I was a teen-ager, I looked around and saw the negative effects that this behavior had on a lot of people and decided not to start drinking, so I’ve never even tried this poison. The evidence keeps piling up that I was lucky to have come to that conclusion early.

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