SANTA BABY

SANTA BABY!

An Essay
By Izzy Sommers
For November, 2005
In Welland, Canada

There’s an eccentric, overweight, white-bearded elderly bicyclist around town that wears a Santa Claus hat. He is disturbing to passers-by, pedestrians and drivers and exiting to children on bicycles, scooters, on foot and in cars. He gets shouts and smiles from some. He is ignored by others. He gets horn-honking from others.

I spoke to him at the stop-lights and corner of Wellington and East Main Streets, about eight o’clock, yesterday morning. Many students and teachers were using the corner to get to the large schools in the area. Many of them drove through the Tim Horton’s for the pick-me-up coffee and doughnuts. Many of the other adults were on their way to work in the huge Canadian Tire office buildings and the other businesses behind Horton’s.

“Merry Christmas,” he said, looking over the top of his half-glasses.

“Merry Christmas,” I replied. “Why are you waiting so long to cross the intersection?” I asked.

“This is a dangerous corner under ordinary circumstances,” he replied. He went on, “People crane their necks to see a Santa, in November, on a bicycle. They smile but they don’t watch the oncoming or turning traffic. They don’t respect me as a bicyclist, especially if they’re late.. And, that’s both the students and the teachers!”

“Bummer!” I said.

“It’s OK,” he replied. “It helps me with my sociological observations.”

“Huh?” I asked with a stupid look on my face and a stupid thought on my mind.

“Yes,” he said, “The responses to my appearance nicely separates the men from the boys and the youngsters from the young adults and the old adults and the preschool children from the school children and the high school students and teachers from the elementary school students and teachers.” He made a dash for the south-east corner when the light turned orange, mounting his bicycle in the style of a cowboy mounting his horse. He shouted back at me, “Anyone over the age of 65 gets aggravated and suggests I’m pushing it by wearing a Santa hat in October.” A driver making a right-hand turn just as the light turned red, hadn’t noticed him and just missed him He waved to me, triumphantly, as he pedalled safely unto the side-walk.

I considered Santa’s comments and behaviour. I wondered if Lady Godiva would have caused less of a disturbance, at that intersection, at that time of the morning. I wondered if she would have separated the men from the boys. I wondered if she would have gotten more horn honks than Santa. I moved along. My coffee was getting cold and the chocolate on my donut was sticking to the bag and coming off the donut. Besides, a 16 wheeler was making a right hand turn and threatened to run over my toes as it narrowly missed the curb in an expertly made wide turn. An attractive, youthful, high school teacher, of oriental heritage, honked at me angrily because her coffee was getting cold, because the maple icing on her donut was losing it’s grip, and because my position in the cross walk was stopping her from running the red light on her way to Eastdale High School, before the bell rang. Or, maybe, it was my Santa hat, my half-glasses and my white beard.

Or, perhaps, it was because I was French-Canadian and used the term, “de pate au Chinois,” or “pate Chinois,” to refer to the “Shepherd’s pie” I’d eaten last night. Actually, I also say, “des patates frites,” instead of “des pommes frites, ou French fries!” That’s it! That’s probably it... Maybe, that's it... or, not!

THE END