Julien's Journal December 2016 (Volume 41, Number 12) | Page 30

FEATURES

Here Comes Santa!

P

by Rob Gomoll

olonius gave his son Laertes
advice in Act One, Scene
Three of Hamlet: “For the
apparel oft proclaims the
man.” That was modernized
to “Clothes make the man.” It’s true! Ask
a new bride in her wedding gown. Ask
a lad in his first tux on prom night. Ask
graduates in their regalia. And, ask me
when I played Santa Claus.
I inherited a much-worn Santa suit and
a wig and beard made of some synthetic
fiber. I took the suit to the cleaners
and gave them special instructions to
deodorize it. I had to plump-up my
middle. The suit came with an attachable
pouch to hold extra padding. I took the
wig and beard to a beauty shop for some
advice. They gave me some special
shampoo and told me to wash them by
hand and air-dry them. I polished my
high-topped black boots and bought some
white drum-major gloves. Last, I bought
some gold dollar-store wire-rimmed
glasses that sat on the end of my nose.
All this was for my granddaughter, so I
spared no effort in preparing.
I have “trod the boards” before, but I
still practiced my Ho-Ho-Ho’s and my
hands-on-belly stance in the mirror. I
used Haddon Sunblom’s pictures of Santa
in the old Coca-Cola ads for inspiration.
It was getting close to the time I
transformed into the “jolly ol’ elf.” My
wife said, “I got a phone call from Mrs.
Able up the street. She wondered if
you could come over as Santa for her
Jimmy? She gave you some ideas to talk
about for presents.” That upped the ante
somewhat, but Santa can’t disappoint
his kids. That night the phone rang three
more times. “No problem,” my wife said,
“he’ll be there. Yes, I have the gift ideas
for Mildred.” She hung up and
said, “You’re getting
quite a list

28  ❖  Julien’s Journal 

of kids, Santa.”
Now, this became a real responsibility!
These kids had a fragile belief system.
I had to be spot-on. I had to be Santa! I
had heard about “Santa Schools” where
students learned to portray every facet
of Kris Kringle. All I had was methodacting. “What had I gotten myself into?”
I wondered.
It was Friday night, the night of Santa’s
visits. I barely tasted my supper. I went
down in the basement and did some
calisthenics to rid myself of some stress.
Then I dressed with all the ceremony of
a matador donning his traje de luces. I
splashed on some Old Spice. I figured
that’s what Santa would smell like.
First, came the pants then the shiny
boots. I attached the suspenders and put
the padded
pouch around my

middle. I slipped into the jacket. I put on
the wig and beard and brushed them out.
Last, I put on the cap, glasses, and gloves.
My wife applied some rouge to my cheeks
and nose. I strode in front of the mirror.
My voice changed. My whole demeanor
changed. My wife even unconsciously
called me “Santa.”
Psychologists call this “enclothed
cognition.” We don’t just think with
our brains, but with our bodies too.
A psychologist named Galinsky said,
“Clothes invade the body and brain,
putting the wearer into a different
psychological state.” I didn’t need
my lists. My wife quizzed me, and I
remembered all the gifts. I was Santa!
We got in the car (sleigh?) and started
driving to our destinations. She drove,
and I was too warm, so I had the window
open with my face bracing the cold night
air. We drove past two girls who had their
evening clothes on. They were obviously
headed to some house-party. I thought for
sure I would be mocked by these jaded
divas of the night.
But no! I heard, “Santa! Santa!
Hi, Santa!” They weren’t hardened
sophisticates; they were little girls again!
“Be good! I’ll see you on Christmas