We all accept a suspension of disbelief in certain areas of our lives. We play the lotteryfrom someone I'm going to win), channel what our dogs and cats are thinking (I know it's not just me), and expect our plants to thrive even when we don't water them (maybe that's just me). We are capable of being extraordinarily optimistic.
Of course, if there was ever a time for magical thinking, it's Christmas. I have a friend who clearly put a spell on her two cats and made them pose, sadly but nonetheless, in festive knitted hats for a Christmas photo. We believe in Santa Claus, reindeer that fly, and elves on the shelves that descend from the North Pole and embed themselves in our homes.
Well, I'm a little late to the party embracing these elven figures inspired by a 2005 book: approximately 10 inches, of various skin colors and genders, all dressed uniformly in elegant red jumpsuits, accessorized with a white collar and red pants . and white cone-shaped hats.
They swing on makeshift trapezes and zip-line over Christmas trees. They put in shoes, sandwiches and other eccentric places. More than 22 million have arrived in homes around the world and are quite cosmopolitan. They did a fashion shoot for Vogue dressed by Thom Browne and other designers.
They don't bring gifts. Technically they are scout elves and, in theory, their job is to keep an eye on children and report nice or naughty behavior. But some parents, wisely, cannot tolerate a surveillance state in their home and choose not to inform their children about this part of the story. Elves may live to delight children, but (spoiler alert for young children who read the Los Angeles Times, and thanks for reading!) It's the parents' job to come up with activities for the elves.
The daily surprise is its true purpose: one morning, a girl might wake up and see the elf curled up next to her bed; On another day, a child might find their house elf ensconced in the kitchen making pancakes. A few days ago, my friend Tony reported that his daughters woke up to find their elf had turned on the mini Christmas lights and swapped out their hats for a snowman ornament. (Smart Dad).
For all the work parents do, couldn't elves do more for parents? Why can't they cook dinner, make the beds, or take you to work? If we can have driverless cars, surely we can have elves driving cars. He would be an elf to pull off the shelf every day. But they tend to be more mischievous than productive, and that's part of their charm. It's a season of fun.
The magic of these elves should not stretch our imagination too much. The tooth fairy puts money under a pillow and no one ever sees it, neither him nor them. We believe in Santa and never see him, only the half-eaten cookies and the gifts he leaves. We've seen a million pictures of Santa with his puffy cheeks and snow-white beard. However, no child really cares about what they look like.
I once wrote about the proliferation of Santa Clauses at Christmas: in stores, on the streets. At an event in Culver City, a black Santa listened to children recite their Christmas lists. The adults stood still, pleased by the ecumenical nature of the Santa event and by the fact that none of the children commented that this Santa didn't match the pictures in the storybooks. Why would they do it? Who cared as long as he was writing down his Christmas lists?
For years, at a Catholic church in the South Bay, the very popular early afternoon Christmas Eve Mass with a children's choir came to an end after Holy Communion with the priest standing before the congregation. He started to say a few words only to be interrupted by the ringing of bells. The lights dimmed and Santa Claus appeared with a large red bag in the main hallway. Children laughed and clapped, parents took pictures, and Santa approached a manger on the side of the church, knelt for a moment, then waved and walked out a side door into the darkness of the night. There is no Santa Claus in the “greatest story ever told,” but there was one that night in the church. And everyone hugged him.
There may be a very human temptation to separate magical beliefs, a tendency that appears at some point in childhood, or perhaps that marks the end of childhood. But this time of year I see inspiration for a different approach. Instead of letting our sad realism cast doubt on Santas and elves, we could hold on to our Christmas imagination and lean on that. other A very human impulse: the will to believe, against all odds, in better times and a better world all year round.
