Holiday Traditions: Santa’s Day

I grew up 100%, without any doubt in my mind, Jewish. As did both sets of my parents. And their parents. And so on, way far back into my genealogical history.

Yet? I grew up knowing that every Christmas, Santa would make a stop at our house and give us the big presents we didn’t get for Chanukka. Santa always visited two little Jewish sisters in Michigan.

He visited my mom, when she was young. And her mom. And her mom’s mom. And so on throughout my mothers maternal side. Who also? Happened to be Orthodox Jews. Interesting, eh?

Frankly though, I was always shocked to hear that he didn’t visit most of my other Jewish friends. Except the ones who had one parent that wasn’t Jewish, which was another thing that used to surprise me. When I was young I thought that Jews were only allowed to marry each other. I know, right?!

Tradition. Sometimes it crosses religious boundaries.

Santa wasn’t just for the non-Jewish kids. He was ours, too.

While we grew up knowing that we did NOT celebrate Christmas, we grew up with something we thought was better. Chanukka and Santa Day.

Every Christmas Eve, after we were done watching whatever Christmas specials were on television, we would watch out our window in hopes of catching a glimpse of the reindeer pulling Santa’s sleigh.

We would begrudgingly go to bed, too excited for sleep to come quickly and we’d strain, for hours, listening for the gentle landing of the reindeers and sleigh on our roof.

We were always sure we heard Santa’s “ho, ho, ho” or the far off, distant jingle of the reindeer bells.

I remember going into the living room late one night to investigate some noises, only to find my parents fussing over the presents. I was shocked because, surely it was too early for Santa to have been there. They looked up and told me that they woke up to find the presents there and were straightening them up for us.

I was satisfied with that answer so I went back to bed. Santa just showed up a little too early and my parents caught him, lucky them.

Santas Day morning.

Full of brightly wrapped gifts, bows and gift tags. The presents we had wanted for Chanukka were there, waiting for us, from Santa. No gloves or records or books. No, we had toy kitchen sets, tea sets, Barbies and accessories.

We LOVED Santa.

Every year. Even when we knew that Santa wasn’t really real. Even when I grew up and moved out. Even when my kids were small. We’d go to my parents house and find stockings stuffed with goodies.

And now, I carry on the tradition with my kids. Even though there is only one kid left in the house that still believes it’s Santa bringing him gifts. Even though two of the kids celebrate Christmas with their Mother, who was originally Christian.

I carry on this tradition.

Because, I love it.

And my kids love it.

I hope that someday, when my children are all grown and have families of their own, they will still come to our house where there will be gifts for everyone.

Given to them from a Santa who believes that even Jewish children should have a bunch of presents to excitedly open.

On Santa’s Day.

I know my daughter already claimed this idea for when she’s a grown woman with a family of her own. She loves it as much as I do.

My youngest son, as well.

So, to whatever you believe in, whatever your traditions are and whatever you celebrate this time of year…

May your day be filled with love, laughter and merriment.

Happy Holidays.
XOXO

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