My Letter to Santa

It's been a while since I last wrote you, Santa. How long? Well, we have a President of the United States who is a black man, that's how long. New York City no longer has the World Trade Center, that's how long. The Chicago White Socks won the World Series, that's how long. China is now a world, economic power, that's how long.

But in some ways, times haven't changed. Last time I wrote you, times were hard for me and my family. My father was never around. My mother worked odd jobs to feed, clothe and shelter us. There was very little extra money for toys around Christmas time. My brother and sister and I could count on some churches to give us a few toys and some candy, but the real stuff: the GI Joes, the 007 gadgets, the train set had to come from you.

But here we are in 2009. The more things change, the more they stay the same as they say. I have my own family now. I work now as a supervisor at a manufacturing plant and I also deliver newspapers. My wife was laid off, but she earns some money tutoring and blogging. Times are tough. When I bought my home 3 years ago, I made enough to cover the mortgage ... barely, but I was hopeful that I would get raises periodically and keep our heads above water.

The problem started when my company lost a series of bids to an over-seas competitor. Soon There major layoffs. Good people with years of service lost their jobs. I survived the layoffs but I had to take a pay cut and a reduction in hours. I have had to dip in to my savings in order to pay all the bills. There are literally no jobs where I live.

Now as Christmas approaches, I don't know what I'm going to do. I have to make the same hard choices my mother had to make when I was growing up. Shall I keep a roof over our heads, heat, electricity, warm clothing and food, or do I miss a few payments or sell some items in order to buy my kids the gifts they want.

A confession: I told my kids that there was no Santa I told them that you were a myth created by department stores in order to sell people junk. I told them that my wife and I were Santa and if they wanted anything, they had to come to us.

And that is what makes it oh so hard for me to aks what I am about to ask. Santa, please listen to the wishes of my kids. Please, stop by our house this Christmas Eve. I know you know what they want for Christmas. I don't want anything for myself really except that I can see the wide-eyed look of wonder and joy on the eyes of my kids Christmas day when then go into the living-room to see their gifts. I want nothing but for them to know that at least in our home, there is peace, there is security, that they are loved and provided for. I want them to not feel the strain and the pressures the lack of money brings to our household. Not yet at least: they are too young.

I will never forget the train set you brought me - or the bicycle. Please make this Christmas a most memorable one for my kids. Tell the Mrs. hi for me.

Sincerely, Allen