Told you I have a cool job.
I spoke to the jolly ol' elf who by day poses as a guy from upstate, but is such a dead ringer through just sheer luck that it makes Edmund Gwenn's portrayal in Miracle on 34th Street seem almost pedestrian.
I told him that because it's not every day I get to interview such a famous figure anymore, I appreciated that he was kind enough to play along with me and we had a good 15-minute chat that will hopefully make for a fun article for my paper's readers.
When I got off the phone with him, I got another call about five minutes later. It was Santa again.
"I forgot to ask if you've been naughty or nice this year and what you wanted for Christmas," he said.
Now I'm what Cedric the Entertainer refers to as a "grown-ass man." I haven't stopped to tell Santa Claus, or anyone else for that matter, what I want for Christmas in a LONG time. I sure as heck wasn't going to tell this guy whether I thought I was naughty or nice, either. Such things tend to get you listed on federal websites nowadays as a less-than-savory character.
But, I figured since he was nice enough to play ball with me, I'll humor him.
"I'd like to think I've done enough to be considered nice this year," I said.
"And what is it you want for Christmas?" he asked.
My first thought was to say something snarky like either my two front teeth or an Official Red Ryder Carbine Action 200-shot Range Model Air Rifle, just to see what he said. Only I didn't. Despite my co-workers sitting not five feet from me and getting hit by a sudden onset of rather turbulent emotions, I told him what I actually, honestly, wanted this year.
"I'd like a phone call," I said. "From someone I haven't actually talked to in a long time."
I didn't tell him who, nor will I say here, as that was none of his business or yours either, really. Christmas wishes, like all others which are heartfelt, are lent a certain amount of privacy I'd like to think.
He asked me if there was anything else and while there was, I couldn't bring myself to tell him without probably breaking down in the middle of work, which would raise a lot more questions I didn't want to answer.
I don't want any thing this year. I have enough things to last me for a while. No. What I'd like this year, what I'm wishing for...is to know that I still matter and I'm as cared about as I'm told that I am.
If that sounds silly or somehow passive-aggressive, it's not. It's genuine, because some days I'm genuinely not sure if I am and I'd like to know if for no other reason than to shut up the recurring voice in my head that reminds me every day.
I would like to think that's not too much to ask.
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