T. GAMBLE: Santa questions throw me a curve

FEATURES COLUMN: When the holiday questions get ticklish, think baseball

T. Gamble

T. Gamble

Well, it’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas, not because of anything I’ve done, but because retail America is trying its best to make Christmas a year-long spending extravaganza.

Of course, Christmas has been on the mind of the 10-year-old Princess girl and 9-year-old Hurricane boy for quite some time as well … since Dec. 26, 2012, to be precise.

It appears certain members of the Princess’s class have now expressed doubts — if not outright disbelief — that Santa exists at all. This has caused great gnashing of teeth for the Princess as she grapples with this heresy.

“I know Santa is real because the Weather Channel would not spend all that money on a weather tracker satellite of Santa if he didn’t exist,” exclaims the Princess.

The Hurricane quickly rebuts, stating, “Give me break. It is not all that much money and besides it is only for one day, so what?”

“Well, the ones complaining were probably bad, and just mad because they didn’t get any presents,” says the Princess.

“So, why did I get anything then?” opined the Hurricane, with logic that brought tears to my eyes.

‘Well just go ahead and not believe and see if you get anything this year Mr. Know-It-All. I’ll just tell Santa you don’t believe and let’s see how you come out.”

“I’ll come out fine, whiny girl, because I’ll keep believing as long as the presents keep coming.”

Ah, it is heartwarming to feel the Christmas spirit envelope the Gamble family and comforting to know that all pretense of a good boy/bad boy reward system from Santa has been completely thrown out the window.

The Princess closes by expressing the following self-doubt: “The only thing I don’t understand is how can Santa Claus live forever. I thought only Jesus lived forever.”

Uh oh, hadn’t thought of that one. I could try and claim maybe Santa is Jesus, but somehow I can’t see Jesus 150 pounds overweight in a red suit. On the other hand, if Jesus was an American, he’d be 150 pounds overweight. So, I do what I always do under such circumstances — I ignore the question and begin to talk about baseball.

I could have said there are many things I don’t understand, like why when I let the sweet old lady with only two items ahead of me in the grocery line she always either forgets her purse, needs a price check from the back of the store, or doesn’t know her PIN number? Why when I change to the fast lane on the Interstate does it suddenly transform into a funeral possession at 5 mph? Why do professional boxers need bodyguards? Why is a college senior quarterback a seasoned veteran able to drive a team 90 yards for the game winning touchdown, but the same guy the next year an inexperienced helpless buffoon in the NFL? Why are my car keys always in the pocket on the same side where my hand is full? Why do only ugly women get drunk and strip naked at public events? Why can’t tall basketball players make free throws?

Maybe I was better off talking about baseball and maybe Santa just lives a long, long time, but not forever.

Email T. Gamble at wtg@colliergamble.com.