Two Santa Claus Miracles
Just a few months after I, and a few volunteers, began making sandwiches in our Catholic Worker House for folks on the street, I heard about poor families living in migrant camps throughout the Salinas Valley -- many of whom could really use some extra food for their families... so, one afternoon, after serving our regular one o'clock meal on the Soledad Street corner, I loaded up our pick-up with bread, rice, flour, and assorted veggies... Not knowing where I was going, except south, I took off.
Eventually, right next to Soledad Prison, I noticed some ramshackle "cabins" in long rows. Parking, a crowd of Mexican immigrant families gathered... I started to bag the flour first, dumping a full paper bag on a little girl's head... laughing with her white hair she ran off to play with her friends... a mom handed me her newborn infant and took over the bagging and distribution... and so began our Guadalupe Project... Then, some years later...
By this time, we had a real Soup Kitchen. Full meals were cooked, soup or pasta, salad, desserts, grape juice or other beverages, and then a new idea sprouted: why not write down the names of the moms and children who would come into the kitchen for our Thanksgiving Feast, and collect gifts for them? And so, a team was organized to gather the information... We had a party for many of the families, giving a lot of the gathered gifts... still, we had a few hundred families and many bags of gifts yet to give away... Christmas eve rolled around... After the Soup Kitchen meal and clean-up was completed, I loaded our bus with all the remaining gifts. I had my list of families. I donned my Santa Suit and took off... dog tired, but still excited...
I began with the remaining families in town. Darn, but no matter how many times I drove back and forth, I couldn't find one address. It made no sense because I was searching through the salad packing companies in the industrial part of town: why would someone give me a packing shed address? It was getting late, already well after dark, and I had yet to drive to the migrant camp in South County... Ah well, I tried to find that address... so I left driving down Highway 101... Around a hundred families were waiting for me! The kids got a kick out of me my Santa's Suit... Several hours later, nearly midnight, I climb back into the bus to drive home: with one remaining bag of gifts...
Barely awake, I almost turned to drive home, when I thought, "Okay. I'll try one more time to find the missing address." The streets were empty so I could go very slow, scanning this way and that. Finally, I ask myself "What's that?" Sure enough, between those packing sheds, there was a single row of "human sheds". I parked. No lights shone anywhere around. I had no flashlight, thinking to myself, "Where's Rudolph when you really need him?" The dirt road nearly tripped me up. I got to the end of the row, noticing a light escaping from the crack between door and battered wooden step. I knock. I can hear a shuffle of feet and the door opens. You should have seen to surprise in the faces of the two moms who had signed up at Dorothy's Kitchen for gifts for their kids! It was after midnight, and they had not yet given up hoping for me to arrive. They had a small, barren, Christmas tree in a corner. Two women and their two families shared their "human shed"...
Santa's bag of gifts went under the tree. They were amazingly happy and beautiful! And me? I knew right then that when I "grew up", that I wanted to be Santa Claus. The very best job in the world!
I have other long Santa Stories, but I'll pass on most of them except to write that many years later, after again being Santa Claus for hundreds more kids, when all was said and done that night, and as brooms were sweeping the hall, I jumped off the stage saying to myself, "This is all that I want to do. I just want to love." Driving home by myself, I prayed: "I just want to love. O Love, I need a miracle!"
Then there was Michelle... and later, Mrs. Claus!
Eventually, right next to Soledad Prison, I noticed some ramshackle "cabins" in long rows. Parking, a crowd of Mexican immigrant families gathered... I started to bag the flour first, dumping a full paper bag on a little girl's head... laughing with her white hair she ran off to play with her friends... a mom handed me her newborn infant and took over the bagging and distribution... and so began our Guadalupe Project... Then, some years later...
By this time, we had a real Soup Kitchen. Full meals were cooked, soup or pasta, salad, desserts, grape juice or other beverages, and then a new idea sprouted: why not write down the names of the moms and children who would come into the kitchen for our Thanksgiving Feast, and collect gifts for them? And so, a team was organized to gather the information... We had a party for many of the families, giving a lot of the gathered gifts... still, we had a few hundred families and many bags of gifts yet to give away... Christmas eve rolled around... After the Soup Kitchen meal and clean-up was completed, I loaded our bus with all the remaining gifts. I had my list of families. I donned my Santa Suit and took off... dog tired, but still excited...
I began with the remaining families in town. Darn, but no matter how many times I drove back and forth, I couldn't find one address. It made no sense because I was searching through the salad packing companies in the industrial part of town: why would someone give me a packing shed address? It was getting late, already well after dark, and I had yet to drive to the migrant camp in South County... Ah well, I tried to find that address... so I left driving down Highway 101... Around a hundred families were waiting for me! The kids got a kick out of me my Santa's Suit... Several hours later, nearly midnight, I climb back into the bus to drive home: with one remaining bag of gifts...
Barely awake, I almost turned to drive home, when I thought, "Okay. I'll try one more time to find the missing address." The streets were empty so I could go very slow, scanning this way and that. Finally, I ask myself "What's that?" Sure enough, between those packing sheds, there was a single row of "human sheds". I parked. No lights shone anywhere around. I had no flashlight, thinking to myself, "Where's Rudolph when you really need him?" The dirt road nearly tripped me up. I got to the end of the row, noticing a light escaping from the crack between door and battered wooden step. I knock. I can hear a shuffle of feet and the door opens. You should have seen to surprise in the faces of the two moms who had signed up at Dorothy's Kitchen for gifts for their kids! It was after midnight, and they had not yet given up hoping for me to arrive. They had a small, barren, Christmas tree in a corner. Two women and their two families shared their "human shed"...
Santa's bag of gifts went under the tree. They were amazingly happy and beautiful! And me? I knew right then that when I "grew up", that I wanted to be Santa Claus. The very best job in the world!
I have other long Santa Stories, but I'll pass on most of them except to write that many years later, after again being Santa Claus for hundreds more kids, when all was said and done that night, and as brooms were sweeping the hall, I jumped off the stage saying to myself, "This is all that I want to do. I just want to love." Driving home by myself, I prayed: "I just want to love. O Love, I need a miracle!"
Then there was Michelle... and later, Mrs. Claus!