The Claus

Every Christmas the nation awaited for the flight of the Claus. Children and families awaited anxiously as dusk settled, huddled around their hearths and listening intently to the news. Thousands of people milled about outside from coast to coast, watching the skies with binoculars and telescopes. Individuals of all ages, both young and old, hoped desperately to catch a glimpse of the Claus himself on Christmas Eve.

The Claus went underground in the week or two before Christmas, ceasing all communication as letters poured into his snowbound mailboxes from across the country. Letters and cards even came from abroad, often from all nations in the world. When word got out that the Claus had gone into seclusion the anticipation soared, with everyone wondering when the Christmas magic would begin.

One year it began in Washington, D.C. Twice it began in New York City, and twice also in Philadelphia. Once it began in Las Vegas, which nobody expected, and it began an amazing five times in Los Angeles. Three times in Dallas, three times in Houston, and four times in Denver. Several more cities had seen the great Christmas re-appearance of the Claus, though only once.

He had appeared twenty-seven times in all, each Christmas Eve for the past twenty-seven years.

All major news outlets were on high alert. All pilots kept their eyes peeled, scanning the skies and their radar screens with elevated heartbeats. NORAD and the FAA guaranteed the Claus unrestricted access and preferential treatment for all of his good deeds – no flight of the Claus would be delayed!

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The boy watched the snow falling as the sky grew dark with the impending night, amazed at the sight of such large flakes falling so quickly. Already there was a good six inches of snow on the ground, and the weather announcer predicted three more before dawn. Such a snow, though not record-setting even for west Texas, was positively magical because it was Christmas Eve.

Midland, Texas was having its first white Christmas in almost forty years. The boy’s father had, grinning like a lovestruck kid, built a roaring fire in the small house’s brick fireplace, muttering that he never thought he would see the day when he could build a fire on a snowy Christmas Eve. In front of the snapping, hissing fire rested the family’s two German Shepherds, exhausted from a long afternoon of cavorting and writhing in the wet snow.

The boy watched the sky with his father’s binoculars, hoping to see something through the snowstorm. He did not know what to look for. Lights? Something red? Sounds of joy? He had asked his classmates what signs indicated the arrival of the Claus, but none of them had any idea. Some thought the Claus was make-believe.

In the kitchen, sipping on coffee, the boy’s mother fretted over bills. She and her husband tried to hide the troubles from the boy, but he secretly knew. He tried to pretend like he didn’t know about the problems, but he did. He hated how his mother sometimes cried late at night, saying things like how she didn’t want to lose the house. Right now the boy’s father was pouring her more coffee, offering a sugar cookie, trying to console and be strong.

The boy loved the small house and did not want to lose it. Where would they go?

Then, as he was about to lower the binoculars from his eyes, he saw the flash of red.

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He began calling to his parents when, at the same instant, the radio’s stream of Christmas melodies was interrupted: “The Claus has been spotted! At 7:56 PM Central Time the Claus has been positively identified over Midland, Texas, which is having its first White Christmas in thirty-seven years!”

“I saw him! I saw him!” the boy yelled, and his parents looked up. They smiled, happy to see their son so happy. “He’s close! I saw him from the living room!”

The news feed continued, reporting the Claus’ whereabouts. The boy felt proud that the radio mentioned his town; kids across the world were wishing they were here right now!

“Now don’t get your hopes up,” the father cautioned with a sudden sadness in his eyes, “it’s not like he’s going to la-“

The roar of engines and rotors drowned him out, and his eyes grew three times wider. So did his wife’s. So did the boy’s.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Bell Kiowa landed in front of the house seconds later, its landing lights revealing its shiny red paint in all its radiance. Rooted in shock, the boy saw the white letters C-L-A-U-S emblazoned on its side despite the snow being whipped everywhere by the churning rotors. It was so loud that he couldn’t hear himself think!

He thought, despite the din, a knocking at the front door. Against his better judgment, even as his parents were frozen in surprise in the kitchen, he approached the door. Reached out a trembling hand. Opened the door.

Snow flew in, howling, and blinded him for a second. And then he saw him.

The man was short, stocky, and had a trim blond-and-grey beard. Blue eyes that gleamed in the light, and a white smile revealing happiness and excitement. He was older, but not too much so. A black pea coat with an upturned collar protected the man from the helicopter’s wind. Red headphones blocked the roar of the Kiowa’s engine.

The Claus handed the boy a gift-wrapped box. “Better close the door now ‘cuz it gets worse when this baby takes off! Merry Christmas, son!” the blond man yelled, his voice barely audible. As the boy stepped back, brain struggling to process the moment’s tremendous events, the man reached in, grasped the doorknob, and closed the door himself.

As the boy gripped the box tightly he trudged slowly backward, eyes still wide, his feet numb. The roar increased outside and the red helicopter lifted up quickly, almost as if it was blessed with fairy dust. It headed up and forward. The volume of its flight diminished slowly.

In the kitchen, the radio news feed was still yelling, the announcers excited.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The boy slowly brought the ornate box to his stunned parents. His father took it and, after looking around questioningly, gingerly opened it in silence with the help of a pair of scissors.

Inside was enough money, in cash, to pay off their back taxes and the mortgage on their home. The mother began weeping, and the father choked back tears. A copy of the family’s tax records was inside the box, revealing how the Claus had gotten the information he needed to make his gift.

Below the bundles of crisp bills were assorted other gifts for the family, including a fine watch for the father, a set of monogrammed surgical scrubs for the RN mother, and a sealed envelope for the boy. The father, slipping on the titanium watch in amazement, handed his son the envelope with a look of hope and pride in his eyes.

The envelope was opened eagerly, and contained a Christmas card. Inside it read:

“I got your letter. You better keep your grades up in school so that you can become a pilot like your favorite Uncle. After all, I won’t be able to fly that helicopter forever!

Study hard, respect your friends and family, and do good deeds.

Best wishes always”

The boy showed it to his astounded parents before rushing to his room to hide it in a safe spot.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Later that night, after the news feeds reported the Claus advancing on Dallas with a generous tailwind at his back, the boy joined his parents on the threadbare sofa in the living room. The trio stared at the fire and the sleeping dogs in quiet contentment. “It’s amazing those dogs got back to sleep so fast after all the excitement,” the mother said softly, gently stroking her husband’s arm.

“Dad, will you tell me the story about the Claus?” the boy asked, holding up his card. He had taken it from its safe hiding spot three times already to admire.

“Well, I suppose it’s time you know the truth since you’re one of the few to have seen him in person on Christmas Eve,” the father replied with a smile. He ruffled his son’s hair affectionately. “You’ll be the talk of your friends at school come January!” As the mother left the sofa to bring in refills of hot cocoa the father began the story.

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“The Claus is a very, very rich man. He made lots of money many years ago in news and entertainment and owned big companies. He started out as a famous writer who began to own newspapers and publishers, and then he owned more and more. By the time he was in his forties he was worth more money than he or his family could ever need.

He gave control of his businesses and newspapers and publishers to his trusted friends and used his fortune to learn how to do things, like become a lawyer, and a doctor, and fly a helicopter. He then wanted to help out as a leader, so he ran for Congress as an independent.

Right after he was elected to Congress he began meeting other rich and powerful people and told them of his plan: Like Santa Claus, he wanted to spread extra joy and gifts to people every Christmas Eve. All throughout the year he would give to poor people and charities, but on Christmas Eve he would fly around in his helicopter to give special gifts to families that needed them. He would make thirty, forty, or even fifty stops in a night, especially if it was snowy and dawn came late.

His friends in Congress liked this, and some of them began to do the same. As you know, there are other Clauses all over the country – the Claus himself is their leader who kicks off the big night. Right now seven or eight other Clauses are also flying all night to deliver gifts to those in need. Some of these Clauses were even taught how to fly by the Claus himself. They get permission to fly wherever they want to help people.

I think the Claus chose Midland tonight, and not some big city, because he actually grew up here and worked here as a young man. He chose to come back to his hometown this Christmas Eve because it was snowing, and he loves a White Christmas. I don’t know where he will choose to start next Christmas, but I hope someday he comes back here again.”

The radio crackled gently from the darkened and aromatic kitchen, the smell of cocoa emanating pleasantly, and reported that three more Clauses were in the air. One in Pittsburgh, one in Detroit, and one in Boise. Rumors remained unconfirmed that one was in the air over Salt Lake City. An orphanage in Detroit had just received a cash gift from a Claus of some $1.2 million, paying off all the facility’s outstanding debts and providing full funding for the next fiscal year. A cheering crowd was enjoying the revelry outside the brightly-lit orphanage, recorded by eager news crews.

The boy hugged his father, his eyelids growing heavy with sleep. He would dream of red helicopters.


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