Being Santa: Santa's Secrets
By Stan Bain
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About this ebook
Most people are taken back, the author explains, "I never fathered children due to a decision I made in Vietnam, which now I regret. However, being Santa, that experience has helped fill the void."
This book is about the authors experience as Santa Claus which found children of all ages have wishes at Christmas, but many were concerned with family and world problems. Many times, the author felt like he was a counselor.
Stan Bain was born and raised in Kalispell, Montana, and attended Northern Montana College before being drafted into the army. He holds a Private Multi-Engine Pilot's License, Class D Skydiver's License, Senior Parachute Rigger's License, and Master Scuba Diver Certification.
The author now lives in Florida enjoying semi-retirements.
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Being Santa - Stan Bain
Being Santa
© 2020 by Stan Bain
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
ISBN (Print): 978-1-09832-752-1
ISBN (eBook): 978-1-09832-753-8
Dedication
This book is dedicated to kids of all ages, and especially to those who found in Santa a trusted friend with whom they could share their hopes and dreams, confess their fears, and seek answers to the more pressing mysteries of their universe.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Referances
Appendix A – Why Did NORAD Start Tracking Santa?
Appendix B – Notes and cards from Kids to Santa
Chapter 1
There’s no job in the world quite as enjoyable or as uniquely challenging as playing Santa Claus in a shopping mall over the Christmas holidays. My fifteen years as Santa Claus in Kalispell, Montana, were not only rewarding but also afforded me a certain amount of closure for a chapter in my life that had taken an unexpected turn in Vietnam many years before.
I was drafted into the Army in 1966 and stationed in Dong Tam in 1967. During one of our day trips to the nearby town of Mỹ Tho, we discovered an old church that had been converted to an orphanage and was run by a handful of nuns. Many of the children were fathered by American or Australian soldiers, and the orphanage was constantly in need of money for supplies, extra food, and assistance in caring for the older children while they tended to the infants’ more basic needs. I had found that spending time with the children was a welcome contrast to life on the base. They were hungry for attention, for someone to listen to them; even though we could not speak each other’s language, we understood each other. Or just bouncing them on a knee, and being with them was a pleasant change from the hard-nosed military façade we maintained on the base.
But what had started as an innocent and kindly gesture on the part of a few recruits turned bad one afternoon when the Viet Cong sought to punish the Americans and the South Vietnamese by attacking the orphanage. That situation and its outcome set the stage for a lifetime of sadness and regret that haunted me for decades after, and continues to haunt me still. My first book, You Are Never Alone, describes my Vietnam experience, and the post-traumatic stress disorder that I suffer as a result.
Many years after returning home, I was given the opportunity to play Santa Claus and felt it was something I might really enjoy. As it turned out, being Santa was probably the best job I ever had. While some children were skeptical that I really was Santa, most of them embraced the magic of the season and were happy to sit on my knee and tell me exactly what they wanted for Christmas. Many had questions for Santa—inquiring about his beard, boots, or bag of toys—and still others wanted to know about his home at the North Pole and hear stories about his famous reindeer. It wasn’t long before I realized that being Santa required more than simply a red suit and a fake beard. I had to study up on his background and history, learn all I could about the North Pole, and even research reindeer and specifically the nine belonging to Santa.
For fifteen years, I listened to wishes shared by children of all ages—from toddlers to tottering oldsters. I found that playing Santa; really listening to the dreams, desires, and occasional confessions of so many wide-eyed youngsters; and sharing the love I had locked away for so many years, filled my heart in a way that I hadn’t experienced since my visits to the orphanage in Mỹ Tho. It was while sitting there on my Santa chair, beside a tree decorated with garlands and glass bulbs, that I re-discovered a part of myself I thought I had left behind in Vietnam. Channeling Santa for those many years enabled me to experience the magic of the holiday season and helped to heal the wounds that had been festering since being discharged from the Army.
Playing Santa Claus was a special honor for me, even though I didn’t realize it at the time. When my stepchildren were young, I was volunteered to be Santa Claus at my parents’ place where my brother was also visiting with his kids. All the children were excited when Santa walked in unexpectedly, and they squealed with delight at the presents I brought for them. Their faces lit up when I told them my reindeer were waiting for me and that I’d have to be going, and they ran to the window and pressed their noses against the glass, hoping to catch a glimpse of Santa’s sleigh and reindeer as they soared into the night sky. That Christmas Eve was fun for all, and I’m sure those kids still remember that Christmas Santa came to their house and delivered their presents in person! It was a lot of fun. Little did I know that, years later, it would become a fulltime seasonal job for me and one of the most fulfilling I ever held. I didn’t realize at the time what effect playing Santa Claus would have on me or how bringing joy and happiness to children in a Montana mall during the Christmas season would bring peace to me as well and help me to heal from the trauma I experienced in Vietnam.
Chapter 2
It was October of 2000, and I had retired earlier that year from my job with the U,S, Forest Service. I did some consulting work that summer, but by fall, I was looking for something to do. I couldn’t just retire and watch TV all day, so I decided to go job hunting.
The Kalispell Mall was about thirty-five miles from my home and seemed like a good place to start. Kalispell is in Northwestern Montana, with a population at that time of about 23,000. The town is located near Flathead Lake—the largest freshwater lake west of the Mississippi—with Glacier National Park just to the north.
The Kalispell Mall had a job opening for maintenance/security, so I filled out an application and turned it in. Before I could get home, I had a message on the phone from Bob, the Mall Maintenance/Security Chief, so I returned his call and set up an appointment for the next day to interview for the position.
The duties of the position included general repairs and maintenance on both the Mall and hotel. The security part of the job was part-time, depending on the needs and time of year. I enjoyed the security part, but at times it required late night duty.
I was introduced to several other men who worked in the maintenance/security department. There was Nick who was a local kid and member of a rock band; Dick who was a tall, skinny guy who was sharp as a tack when it came to mechanical things like air conditioners or heating systems; Ed, an older gentleman, was slow going and worked at the mall part-time. He also played Santa during the holidays, so I called him the singing Santa. Then there was Rick, who was full of energy, and a big help at the