Santa And The Switch. My All-Time Favorite Christmas Story.

One day… I’m going to Holland to celebrate Christmas where Santa is skinny, travels by boat, speaks Spanish and travels with six to eight black men who help him beat children with sticks.

Do yourself a favor and listen to this side-splitting essay by my idol the brilliant David Sedaris. This is my gift to you.

The reading leaves out some of the best parts though.

The six to eight black men were characterized as personal slaves
until the mid-fifties, when the political climate changed and it
was decided that instead of being slaves they were just good
friends. I think history has proven that something usually comes
between slavery and friendship, a period of time marked not by
cookies and quiet times beside the fire but by bloodshed and
mutual hostility. They have such violence in Holland, but rather
than duking it out among themselves, Santa and his former slaves
decided to take it out on the public. In the early years, if a
child was naughty, Saint Nicholas and the six to eight black men
would beat him with what Oscar described as “the small branch of
a tree.”

“A switch?”

“Yes,” he said. “That’s it. They’d kick him and beat him with a
switch. Then, if the youngster was really bad, they’d put him in
a sack and take him back to Spain.”

“Saint Nicholas would kick you?”

“Well, not anymore,” Oscar said. “Now he just pretends to kick
you.”

“And the six to eight black men?”

“Them, too.”

He considered this to be progressive, but in a way I think it’s
almost more perverse than the original punishment. “I’m going to
hurt you, but not really.” How many times have we fallen for that
line? The fake slap invariably makes contact, adding the elements
of shock and betrayal to what had previously been plain, old-
fashioned fear. What kind of Santa spends his time pretending to
kick people before stuffing them into a canvas sack? Then, of
course, you’ve got the six to eight former slaves who could
potentially go off at any moment. This, I think, is the greatest
difference between us and the Dutch. While a certain segment of
our population might be perfectly happy with the arrangement, if
you told the average white American that six to eight nameless
black men would be sneaking into his house in the middle of the
night, he would barricade the doors and arm himself with whatever
he could get his hands on.

“Six to eight, did you say?”

In the years before central heating, Dutch children would leave
their shoes by the fireplace, the promise being that unless they
planned to beat you, kick you, or stuff you into a sack, Saint
Nicholas and the six to eight black men would fill your clogs
with presents. Aside from the threats of violence and kidnapping,
it’s not much different from hanging your stockings from the
mantel. Now that so few people have a working fireplace, Dutch
children are instructed to leave their shoes beside the radiator,
furnace, or space heater. Saint Nicholas and the six to eight black
men arrive on horses, which jump from the yard onto the roof. At
this point, I guess, they either jump back down and use the door,
or they stay put and vaporize through the pipes and electrical
wires. Oscar wasn’t too clear about the particulars, but, really,
who can blame him? We have the same problem with our Santa. He’s
supposed to use the chimney, but if you don’t have one, he still
manages to come through. It’s best not to think about it too hard.

While eight flying reindeer are a hard pill to swallow, our
Christmas story remains relatively simple. Santa lives with his
wife in a remote polar village and spends one night a year
traveling around the world. If you’re bad, he leaves you coal. If
you’re good and live in America, he’ll give you just about anything
you want. We tell our children to be good and send them off to bed,
where they lie awake, anticipating their great bounty. A Dutch
parent has a decidedly hairier story to relate, telling his
children, “Listen, you might want to pack a few of your things
together before you go to bed. The former bishop from Turkey will
be coming along with six to eight black men. They might put some
candy in your shoes, they might stuff you in a sack and take you
to Spain, or they might just pretend to kick you. We don’t know
for sure, but we want you to be prepared.

Read the entire essay here!

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Published:
12.25.07 / 1pm
Category:
amusing incidents, what i call life, culture