Christianity was first brought to the Germanic tribes of Northern Europe by Romans. There they found and added Saint Nicholas, a. k. a., Santa Claus. The Northern Tribes had Santa Claus long before they had the Romans or The New Word of Christ.
Later in America, Santa underwent even more change. Most notably and fittingly he gained weight. The original was tall and thin. And his gifts, previously things of warmth and comfort from the cold like kindling and heavy stockings, grew more opulent and today—electronic.
Praise The Word from Rome to Opelousas. Praise the Germans for Santa Claus and the French for naming him Papa Noel. And praise my good Fortune to own a fine suit of Santa Claus clothes, an American belly to fill them and a beard as full as the beards of St. Nicolas painted on the “bier steins” displayed this year at Roberts Cove, Louisiana’s October German Festival.
My sister sent the Santa Suit after 2005, a year of great change in Louisiana. She sent it from Illinois to lift my spirits dampened by hurricanes Katrina and Rita. Up till then I had lived in New Orleans. The storms blew me across the Atchafalaya Basin to Lafayette. There everything was new … changed … from the man selling morning papers, to where I took lunch, to the people I saw on the streets at Art Walks.
“A Santa Suit should help you,” the card that came with the suit read. It has.
“Change is hard,” my sister said, over the telephone. “I know.” She does. She is a clinical psychologist who counsels folks stumbling down Illinois roads.
Every year since, I dress in full Santa drag and hire one of the pedicabs along Lafayette’s Jefferson Street to take me ho-ho-ho-ing and bead-tossing to celebrants along the Hub City’s lovely street of art, food and spirit. I do this as my new tradition, playing Santa Claus at Second Saturday Art Walk, greeting folks around Christmas time at Melissa Dronet’s Cajun Spice Gallery on Jefferson. And another night, as Santa farther down the street (have-girth, will-travel) for a private party sponsored by Lafayette businessman and investor Clay Plaisance at trendy Pamplona Tapas Bar—at these parties the Santa tradition radiates a more Spanish flair.
Come Christmas Eve, I become the singing Santa doorman at Keller’s Bakery. (I did mention I am, well, the size that fits a Santa Suit?) There I greet customers already giddy with dreams of sugar plum treats. People love seeing you when you are wearing a Santa Suit. We greet each other with cheer and seasonal song, in English, a little German, a little French and a little Latin.
As the shoppers rush home with their holiday cakes and pies, I go off in the back of the pedicab sleigh, ho-ho-ho-ing all the way!
Come Christmas Day, as fine a holiday tradition as anyone could establish anywhere is tucked under my big black belt for another year. Thanks to my sister, hurricanes Katrina and Rita, the Christian Romans, Germans, French, Spanish and the Jews, too. Merry Christmas to them all, and may we all have a good Christmas tradition every year.
Leonard Earl Johnson is a former cook, merchant seaman, photographer and columnist for Les Amis de Marigny New Orleans and more. Following hurricanes Katrina and Rita, Johnson decamped to Lafayette. He lives in an old railroad hotel where Elvis Presley once stayed, and regularly rides and writes about Amtrak’s Sunset Limited. His blog is titled “Yours Truly in a Swamp,” at www.LEJ.org.
