I was 4 or 5 years old, and for some reason I had convinced myself that the real Santa Claus was going to be in the Greenville Poinsettia Christmas Parade. I desperately wanted to go see Santa — or “Sandy Claus,” as I called him — but my parents would be working and could not take me.
My mother could see that my little heart was broken, so she asked her brother, my uncle Clarence, if he could take me. Uncle Clarence was in the Navy but was home on leave. He said, “Sure. I would love to take little Dennis to see Santa Claus.”
When we got there, people were lining Main Street five deep, so we took our place behind the crowd. I could not see anything except the backsides of people’s knees. There was no way I would be able to see Santa Claus. Tears were welling up in my eyes when Uncle Clarence assured me that, “When the time comes, I’ll make sure that you see Santa Claus.”
When the first marching bands came parading down Main Street, Uncle Clarence lifted me up and put me on his shoulders. As so often happens in childhood, things went from absolute disaster to sheer delight in about two seconds flat. Uncle Clarence was a tall man, and I had the best seat on Main Street.
Finally, after watching endless floats and high school bands, people started yelling, “Here he comes! Look! There’s Santa Claus!” My heart was pounding. This was it. This was possibly my only chance to see the real Santa Claus. I started waving my arms and shouted, “Hey Sandy Claus. It’s me, Dennis Chastain.”
Maybe it was because Uncle Clarence was wearing his Navy uniform and sailor’s cap, or maybe it was because I was waving my little arms wildly, but Santa Claus pointed directly at me and said, “Ho, ho, ho. Merry Christmas!” Every ounce of my body was flush with pure unadulterated joy. It was one of the most wonderful moments in my young life, evidenced by the fact that I recall it in detail more than 65 years later.
The moral of the story is this: I don’t remember what toys I got for Christmas that year, but I fondly recall every detail of that beautiful, magical moment when I saw the “real” Santa Claus.
Wouldn’t it be great if this Christmas season we all tried to find some way to give a child the gift that keeps on giving — the gift of a memorable experience they will long remember?
If your child, grandchild, niece or nephew has never been to The Children’s Museum of the Upstate, offer to take them. Any child interested in nature would likely never forget a trip with Brooks and Kay Wade’s Wild Child program at Lake Jocassee. Maybe you know a child who has shown an interest in cooking; help them bake their first cake or cookies. A child who is fascinated with airplanes would long remember a trip to Runway Park at the Greenville Downtown Airport.
The possibilities are endless.
Dennis Chastain is a Pickens County naturalist, historian and former tour guide. He has been writing feature articles for South Carolina Wildlife magazine and other outdoor publications since 1989.
