I thought it might be fun to share more stories of NYC Christmas magic than just my own. My dear friend Matt spent several seasons working in a certain land I wrote about last week. He was nice enough to share this Christmas story.
The Christmas miracle: that ever elusive experience that grabs you by the heart strings, tugs at them lovingly until pure tear-inducing joy is conjured and spilt forth from a reserve buried deep beneath the callousness of a world gone duh.
As I am an Agent of Awesome (that’s right folks; I have a small collection of unicorn rides #humblebrag), the Christmas miracle has visited me more than once. New York City, being a place where like-minded people tend to gather, meet each other, make cool shit happen (and guilelessly sleep with each other); is a natural place for the elements necessary for a Christmas miracle to coalesce.
I could tell you about the night my close friends and I created Christmas magic in a show called Winterland that ended with a real-life surprise guest reveal and an overheated theater full of folks singing Christmas carols together. I could tell you about the time I survived a Christmas party literally thrown by Santa’s elves, woke up the drunkest I’ve ever been and made it to both of my jobs that day. I could even tell you about the time my extraordinary friends and I produced and recorded an entire album of original material titled HoliDay [By the Mummers] in a week (now available on iTunes, Spotify, etc. #plug).
Instead, I’ll tell you the story of how my mom’s Christmas dream came true.
It was my first holiday in the apple that never rests- the city itched to make sure I was in a similar situation. My job for the season found me wearing a fur lined red suit in a famous place, assisting Father Christmas himself in his guileless pursuit to spread joy to all the children of the world. I’d tell you what the job was but I have faith you can figure it out (without the help of a decoder ring, an Enigma machine or Encyclopedia Brown #oldstuff).
Editors note: *clues*
I was working every shift available due to the seasonal impermanence of my job. One time I worked a twelve hour shift, got home at 1am only to wake up at 3am to ensure my arrival at said job by 6:30am. I fell asleep with my eyes open while a family was sitting on me. The family had no idea and the photo looked great.
Needless to say, I didn’t have much free time. So of course my mom, who had never been to NYC for longer than dropping off my stuff, wanted to visit. I wanted her to visit too, my mom is my best friend, but I didn’t know if I could make it work with the time constraints. My mom’s favorite movie in all of the world is Miracle on 34th St. She loves this movie almost as much as she loves Christmas. It had always been a dream of hers to visit NYC during Christmas time, see all of the fancy window displays, shop at holiday markets, and meet the man himself at the most famous place in the world to meet him. She wanted to be a New York Christmas Cliché.
Fortunately, the girl I was dating at the time was a saint. She met my mom (for the first time) and played tour guide while I worked my shift (Christmas miracle, am I right?). She took my mom to see all of the fancy window displays, shop at the holiday markets and helped facilitate the grand finale.
My mom boarded the Polar Express, headed to the North Pole and found herself winding through a maze of Christmas on her pilgrimage to visit the famed, old elf with the jolliest disposition. She approached the little house that held in its womb the personification of living love and witnessed him cradling a cooing newborn. He sat whispering kind words, gazing warmly at the new life resting in his hands.. When Santa and the baby had finished their visit, it was finally time for her moment with the man.
Santa greeted my mother and beckoned for her to enter his home. He offered the seat next to him or his knee to sit upon; should she be daring enough to dip herself backwards in the river of time. As always, he asked her if she was happy today. She, of course, was the happiest she could possibly be. She sat next to the red suited man with the white beard, his whiskey-colored eyes (that reflected her own, but not quite as dark) looked at her with all the love in the world. He asked her the famous question often expected of him to ask. And what do you want for Christmas? She told him that she was getting exactly what she wanted in that very moment. As tears of happiness streamed down her cheeks, she whispered in his ear that her dreams were coming true one by one. He was the one responsible for it. She thanked him, and they exchanged I love you’s in the form of Merry Christmases.
Santa was relieved that it was his final visit for the day for he feared for the longevity of the glue upon his face.
My mom dreamed of meeting Santa Claus in New York City for her entire life. Through the perfect confluence of events; when she finally met him…she found that he looked an awful lot like her son.
My Christmas miracle, happened on 34th St.
May you and your family experience the magic of being together and may all of your dreams come true.
Love and pieces,é
Thanks so much for sharing this story, Matt! Dude is an awesome songwriter, I highly encourage you to check out HoliDay [By the Mummers].