The year was 1977. It was six weeks before Christmas and all about the house hard questions were being asked. Serious doubts had been raised by school friends and I was determined to get to the bottom of it. If there was no such thing as Santa Claus I wanted to know. I pestered my parents at every opportunity, each day returning from school with fresh evidence: Kenneth Summers had found unwrapped gifts at the back of his parents’ wardrobe, John McNamara’s older brother told him Santa was made up and only for kids. My parents continued to insist Santa was real but I remained unconvinced. Worse, my Santa inquisitions normally took place in front of my increasingly perplexed looking younger brother. Finally I was taken aside by my father a month before Christmas.
I’ve figured out a way to prove to you that Santa exists, he said. How? I’m going to set up the video camera on Christmas Eve, hide it in the corner where Santa won’t notice, set it to record before we go to bed and when he arrives down the chimney we’ll catch the whole thing on film. I was flabbergasted. What an amazing plan. My Dad had been making home movies for years so I knew he could easily do it. But, he said, you have to stop with all these questions between now and Christmas. What questions? I had already forgotten all my Santa doubts. I believed like I never believed before. If my dad was going to this much trouble he must believe in Santa, therefore Santa must exist.
Needless to say I was beside myself with excitement for the next four weeks. Not only was Santa coming, but my dad was going to video him! I bragged about it all over school and even managed to convince a few doubters that they must be wrong.
Christmas Eve arrived and the camera was set up. Sleep was a long time coming that night, but suddenly it was morning I was up and racing to the living room. All our presents were laid out beneath the tree with our names written on them in Santa’s usual style. And among them, parked next to the tree, was the Triumph 18 bicycle I had been longing for so much. I was in heaven. But what about the camera? Had we caught Santa coming down the chimney? My dad said it had recorded something alright; he didn’t know what yet, he would check the film and we could all watch it together later after Christmas dinner.
That evening we gathered round the projector to watch on the big white screen. I could barely breathe as our living room came into focus on the screen, the Christmas tree lights were on, but the space underneath the tree was empty. We watched and waited. Suddenly a gift wrapped box appeared under the tree, then another and another. One by one each of the presents we had found under the tree that morning appeared magically from nowhere. Last to arrive was my brand new bicycle. I was dumbstruck. My dad shut off the projector and laughed like a man who knows he’s been outsmarted. Santa obviously knew there was a camera there all along, he said. It made perfect sense to me. Santa had simply made himself invisible to avoid being caught on camera. Wow!
Needless to say that video killed any doubts I had about Santa for quite a while. In fact, two years later I was still believing; quite possibly the oldest believer Santa Claus ever had. |
