Santa CONFREDENTIAL

Santa

CONFREDENTIAL

Anecdotes from My Jolly Ol’ Self

Fred Schoppet

Copyright © 2022 Fred Schoppet

All rights reserved

First Edition

NEWMAN SPRINGS PUBLISHING

320 Broad Street

Red Bank, NJ 07701

First originally published by Newman Springs Publishing 2022

ISBN 978-1-63881-707-9 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-63881-708-6 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Contents

Those I Can Count On

The Four Wise Men

Foreword 1

The Christmas Surprise

Foreword 2

Preface

Introduction

Santa, Danny, and Candy Canes

Santa, Emily, and Jingle Bells

Santa and St. Pauli Girl Beer

Santa and World War II Vets

Santa and the Eight

Santa and Dabs

Santa and Temp Control

Santa, Amarah, and Belief

Santa and Patient Thomas

Santa, My Infant, and His Jingle Bells

Santa and Rudolph’s MIA Nose

Santa, Pastor Karl, and the Parable

Santa and Till We Meet Again

Santa, Naomi, and Twix

Santa and the Birthday Boy

Santa and Kaleb

Santa, Evalynn, and Frosty

Santa, Daniel, and Tyke Bike

Santa and Commander

Santa and Olivia

Santa, Mae, and AAA

Santa and My Pride and Joy

Santa, Conner, and Jingle Bells

Santa and Mini Me

Santa, Chris, and Hilmar Cheese Company

Santa and U-Haul

Santa, Hazel, and Cell Service

Santa and the Grand Inquisition

Santa and Jeffrey (a.k.a. Jeff)

Santa and Believer Betty

Santa, Katie, and the Hamster

Santa and Convert Carlos

Santa and Centenarian Rose

Santa, Recovering, and the Hotel California

Santa and the Rewarding ROTC

Santa and Emily

Santa, Witty Iray, and Trivia

Santa and Kaylee

Santa and Father Time Chime

Santa and Arissa Times Two

Santa and Hilmar Jose

Santa and Quick Camden

Santa, Baxter, Madie, Jackson, and Dylan

Santa, Trivia, and Carson

Santa and German Josie

Santa and the Husky

Santa, Halloween, and Melissa

Santa and the Dry Cleaners

Santa and Gio

Santa and Heart-Melting Imeldia

Santa and Richard

Santa and the Ball of Yarn

Santa, Bobby, and Whiskers

Santa and Colton

Santa Receives a Gift

Santa and the Breakfast Visit

Anya and Santa

Santa and Richard Read (Different Richard)

Santa, the Picture, and Peggy’s Painting

Santa, Beer, and the WWII Ace

Santa Visits an Injured Judie

Santa and Viviana

Santa and the Pair of Gloves

Santa Rides a HC-27J Aircraft

Santa Sings the National Anthem

Santa and Sondra

Grand Acknowledgement and Thank You

Acknowledgement

Trivia Contest

Those I Can Count On

How does Santa live and breathe and enchant and delight without indebtedness to countless others? My jolly ol’ self dedicates these whimsical and poignant Christmas chronicles to the following:

Mrs. Sandra Claus

Yep, she has a first name—Sandy! Santa and Sandy. Rings a jingle bell, right?

Parents, George and Verbena

How could they know that their baby boy would travel the world in, well, such an unconventional manner? They taught me how to spread love, in this case, to countless others.

Pride and joy

My ever-growing beloved and fun elves—children, Jonathan, Patrick, and Alison; grandchildren, Madison and Alexander; and stepchildren, Kim and Nicki. Believers all!

Santa’s siblings

Nancy, David, Ken, Brian, and Dawn.

Canine companions

Unlike the Grinch and overtaxed Max, my dogs—Cooper, Desi, and Donder (yes just like the reindeer)—and their predecessors, Duke, Rusty, Charlie, Parker, Buddy, Hoffman, Rudy, Zoolie, and Mac.

More furry family

Oops, mustn’t forget Rudolph and company, the other eight tiny reindeer!

Second family

Oh, did I mention the North Pole’s elves? Yeah, them too. Not off to a great start in the memory department here, but I’m hitting my stride.

All of the above—and countless others!

Note: Barring one Hearth and Home, all locations are within California.

The Four Wise Men

A word to the wise and to all the children of the 21st century, whether their concerns be pediatrics or geriatrics, whether they crawl on hands and knees or wear diapers, walk with a cane and comb their beards: There is a wondrous magic to Christmas, and there is a special power reserved for little people. In short, there is nothing mightier than the meek.

—Rod Serling, The Night of the Meek, The Twilight Zone,

originally aired December 23, 1960, the night before the night before Christmas

I will honor Christmas in my heart…and keep it all the year.

—Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol

(He began writing in October 1843 and sold out before Christmas.

Can you imagine? A six-week labor of love!)

What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others.

—Pericles, a really, really long time ago, count all the way back to 500 BC

A life is not important except in the impact it has on other lives.

—Jackie Robinson, the first African American Major League Baseball player who broke racial barriers on April 15, 1947, playing for the Brooklyn Dodgers

Foreword 1

Verbena Schoppet (a.k.a. Jolly Ol’ Mom)

Santa Claus is the patron saint of Christmas developed from a real person, Saint Nicholas, dating back to the early AD 300s. He was of deep faith and had kindness to all people, especially children. Good ol’ saint Nicholas takes us all back to the wondrous, comfortable, cozy time when we were awaiting the arrival of this most beloved figure!

Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good night!

Wait, it can’t be. Christmas isn’t over yet. Why, we were just baking cookies, hanging ornaments on the tree, and singing Silent Night, its lyric Goodwill toward men. Reread the holy story of the Christ child born two thousand years ago in Bethlehem.

We visited our loved ones and exchanged Christmas cheer; guess we’ll have to wait for the next in the New Year!

Santa and Verbena (Mom)

*****

Thanks again, Jolly Ol’ Mom!

The Christmas Surprise

Verbena Schoppet

’Twas the night before Christmas, and I’m sure you’d agree,

it was time for old Santa to come trim our tree,

and bring all the presents and goodies galore,

to my house and your house and neighbors next door!

Poor old Santa had worked so hard all year through,

making so many toys for me and for you!

But, alas, he was home in bed…with the flu.

He had so many deliveries to make. Just what was Santa to do?

Mrs. Claus said to Santa, "Don’t worry. Don’t fret.

The elves will pack presents and hitch up the sleigh,

Just watch. They’ll all be delivered,

and by Christmas Day!"

And so it was that Mrs. Claus went from house to house,

dropping gifts and toys for Mr. Claus, her spouse.

See what you’ve done? exclaimed Santa. "See what caring can do?

You’ve surprised me and brought love to the world’s children too."

Now I wouldn’t be surprised if, on some Christmas Eve,

Santa will be whisking Mrs. Claus along in his sleigh.

Love to all! they will shout as they ride through the sky.

Have a warm, joyous, surprise-filled Christmas Day!

Foreword 2

Howard George (Photographer, Friend, and Public Affairs Officer)

Back in September of 1897, there was a renowned editorial that was published in The New York Sun. It was in response to a letter written by an eight-year-old girl who earnestly inquired, Please tell me the truth: Is there a Santa Claus? The editor assured her, Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus, to which I’d like to personally add, And his name is Fred!

In my sixty-five years, I have known and worked with many who have purported to be Santa Claus. But I have not come across the genuine embodiment until fifteen years ago, when I began taking photos for the Naval Enlisted Reserve Association’s (NERA’s) annual children’s Christmas party for our local military families. At that very first event, in strode a man who literally lit up the room with his charm, personality, and overall presence. I knew in my camera’s flash that this was no pretender!

As the editorial in The New York Sun went on to say, He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist. Throughout the years, I have come to know this Santa and seen those characteristics exemplified a thousand times over!

In my pleasurable duties as the photographer at these Christmas parties, I’ve been by Santa’s side from the minute he comes in until the time that he takes flight. For each child that comes to sit on his lap and receive a personalized gift, I am there to capture that moment—the wonderment and emotion—revealed in the encounter. But more than that, I feel privileged to listen in on their private conversations and witness the compassion and tenderness with which Santa relates to every individual child.

These are the offspring of military families, who sacrifice so much for us all. Part of that sacrifice is Mom or Dad (sometimes both) being away from home for lengthy periods—missing holidays, birthdays, and, yes, sometimes Christmas. Finances are tight. Loneliness ensues, and there can be the tragedy of injury or loss in the line of duty. Santa has responded to all such situations with sensitivity and genuine sincerity.

There’ve been many a time that I’ve had tears rolling down my face because of how wonderfully he spoke with and encouraged these children and their parents. Yet more than that, he does all of this with the same energy, enthusiasm, and personal attention—no matter how many hours he spends for the plus or minus two hundred little ones. Who else would do all and be all to these children the way he does, then ride off to his next function later that day to gladden the hearts of hundreds more?

It’s been an honor and privilege to be Santa’s helper and to annually witness the true spirit of Christmas demonstrated by this great man. On behalf of myself, our NERA Gold Country Chapter president, Senior Chief Storekeeper Norma von Doren (retired), and Lynn Johnson, special events coordinator, without whom these parties would not even exist, we would like to commend to you, our dear friend, and assure you that Yes, there is a Santa Claus, and his name is Fred!

*****

Thank you, Howie, for your friendship and kind words.

Preface

I am Santa Claus! Repeat, I—am—Santa Claus! Okay, fine. If you don’t believe me, just talk to my grandson Alex. When he was five—as of this writing, a teenager—Alex told everyone within hearing range (be it at school, traipsing through the mall, skipping down the street, or riding his bike), "My grandpop is Santa Claus!"

Of course, the grown-ups, by the quizzical looks on their faces, were staring down thinking, Yeah. Whatever, kid.

The children, however, knew differently; and their eyes would widen with wonder and amazement. They get it. If you hang in here with me, you will too.

In those younger years, his friends and classmates would constantly inquire of me, Are you really Santa Claus?

Possibly, I replied, but you never know for sure. So you’d better be nice and good.

Inevitably I was met with an emphatic Okay! Yet I always need to ask myself, Is this a naughty one? After all, I have a job to do.

Truth be told: The tall tales in this storybook are factual. They’re a compilation of over four decades (geez, can that be right?), during which I’ve cheerily represented the jolly ol’ elf himself. And I’m a compilation of authenticity, reality, and validity—whatever is your truth. Names are not privacy protected. Must-haves for heartfelt exchanges!

My hope is that these pages of actual anecdotes (a.k.a. Schoppet’s Snippets) will harken you back to the heavenly innocence of your own childhood—when Santa was indeed very, very real! Who knows? Maybe this’ll give you cause for pause to rethink your position today. Come join me; together we can skip on down memory lane. It may be paved now, but it’s still the best place to meander. So sit back, relax, and enjoy!

Alex at five. He is now a teenager.

Introduction

How Did I Get Started?

This just might be the primary question asked by grown-ups, certainly in the top three anyway. The answer? Well, it just sort of—yeah, it fell into my lap. Here’s the scoop: I was managing a Swensen’s ice-cream parlor in late 1980, at that time a burgeoning franchise. Our refreshingly cool products—ice creams, sherbets, ices, and the trimmings—were offered in forty flavors. Founded in San Francisco, the creatively named menu reflected California’s rich history, including the Black Bart Sundae, Twin Peaks Sundae, and Earthquake Sundae. Although the other sites are no longer in operation, the original is still there on Hyde Street in San Francisco. Guaranteed, you’ll be in seventh heaven and head back for more!

My hot spot (cool spot) was located in Saratoga. I absolutely loved working there, joking with our patrons, many of whom then became regulars. My enthusiasm and dedication were so intense that I taste-tested, taste-tested (did I mention taste-tested?), and invented some of the flavors that were adopted by Swensen’s. Happy, mouth-watering, amusing memories!

During this time, I was a member of Prince of Peace Lutheran Church. As a matter of fact, four years later, I married my first wife there. Our Christian youth group met once per week for fellowship. With Christmas less than a month away, we were brainstorming our seasonal outreach and decided to make a full evening of it. The Christmas spirit at its finest!

Plan—our assembly would jump in the sleigh to a few senior-care facilities, caroling for the residents there, and then return to the church for pizza, root beer, cake, and cookies—the works. As with any such activity, we had it all down: transportation, traditional songs, and after-party treats. And one of us would dress as (you guessed it) jolly ol’ Saint Nick. ’Twas the perfect finishing touch for the elderly souls. Floating about the room, Hmm, who will morph into the best Santa Claus?

You’re correct again. Everyone was pointing to Fred.

This is a no-brainer. Look where he works every day. He’s great with all ages.

The vote was unanimous; and with that, the consensus of my peers, Santa Fred entered the world!

After hesitantly accepting this role, I was internally fretting, What did I just say? How do I pull this one off? All I’d ever done was plop down on Santa’s lap and let him know my wish—er, wishes (sometimes plural). Where do I grab a realistic Santa suit, beard, hair…the whole nine yards?

Three short weeks. No time to spare!

Luckily, within Swensen’s mall, there was a magic shop. And if Santa doesn’t spin magic, I don’t know who does. The owner not only had the goods but rented them out and, as great fortune would have it, taught classes to aspiring magicians. Okay, step one completed. Hmm, step two was a bit trickier: How do I perform? After all, this was magic class, not Acting 101.

Sans the Internet, Google, and YouTube, off to the library I ventured. And there it was: Santa’s Playbook, which I eagerly devoured. Good was not good enough; I wanted to be beyond-the-shadow-of-doubt convincing. In glaring neon light, one sentence popped from the page, a newly minted lifelong credo: Santa’s portrayal always comes directly from the heart. Observe, listen, and react with heartfelt sincerity.

Okay. I’ve got this!

Christmas was beyond my expectation. In fact, it was much further than that—beyond my wildest imagination! Hugely successful and exceedingly fun. And guess what I learned? I’m the one who was most touched…and was already over the moon with anticipation for the next year!

My then wife was a Montessori schoolteacher, its student body ranging from five to seven years in age, optimal for belief! With the holiday season upon us, of course, the Christmas festivities required Santa’s presence. By this time, I’d purchased my own regalia. The ridiculously fake beard and hair were a dead giveaway, but these are seen through a young child’s eyes. Just a jolly ol’ fellow in a red suit, black belt, white something, and topped with a hat. Good to go. Ho-ho-ho!

When my Santa skills were broadening in tandem with the Grinch’s heart, I also became Dad, and my heart burst! The best of times to be sure. Our first teensy elf, Jonathan, was adopted in ’87; his brother, Patrick, and sister, Alison, also adopted, followed soon thereafter. And my absolute pride and joy? Madison and Alexander, my precious grandchildren, knew deep in their hearts I was more than just Grandpop.

After a move to charming, quaint Sonoma, I was elated to be chosen from a group of seven candidates as the town Santa Claus. There I parked myself in the local toy store window, attended chamber parties, popped up in the mall, walked into Rite Aid, meander through the town marketplace, and visited homes and naturally our nearby schools. The element of surprise from the inside looking out amuses my jolly ol’ self.

Word was rapidly spreading, the result being my first corporate gig at the Sonoma Cheese Factory. What a blast! If you haven’t been to a cheese factory, go. Not right now, you’re reading. It’s an adult fantasyland. Think big kids and little kids. Being escorted by various fire departments, riding through town, and waving from their red trucks were indescribably fun!

Once again, we uprooted in ’89 and settled into picturesque Sultan, Washington. Still working to perfect the Santa bit, I played in-town engagements and went door-to-door in our neighborhood. My arrival to the Christmas festival was also by flaming-red fire truck. The kids and I were always fired up! For that matter, so were the firemen and all other adults. Hour after hour, I posed for pictures, revved up the Christmas spirit, and relished in the mutual merriment.

Regrettably divorce divided our family, precipitating relocation to Citrus Heights, near Sacramento. Sandy and I moved in with our three dogs, at which time Santa’s suit was par excellence. In a never-ending quest for authenticity, the ultimate anecdote, I’d grown my own realistic white-gray beard and hair. I wasn’t messing around; this was serious stuff. And sure enough, my clientele had also grown in tandem with the face fuzz and long hair.

From here on out, holiday seasons were part and parcel of the Christmas