passion...schmassion

day 10232: ode to ms. santa claus (aka my cousin bo)

Bo is Christmas. What I mean to say is that Bo, aka Ms. Santa Claus is the ultimate epitome of the phrase “'tis the season for giving.”

She anonymously adopts needy families at Christmas time and buys them clothes, toys, food certificates, anything to make the holidays a bit better for those less fortunate. She has been doing it for years. Sometimes she adopts one family; most times two. This year, she has three.

Three families – mostly single-parent-multiple-kids type, incomes stretched to a point where the holidays are an extravagance they cannot afford. And were it not for the sake of people like Bo, Christmas morning would be bleak. There would be no presents under the tree (if there even was a tree), Santa would not have taken a bite out of the cookie and Rudolph would not have left a present on the rooftop. Think Bob-Cratchit-coal-in-stocking-maybe-a-new-pair-of-underwear-instead-of-hand-me-downs type of Christmas morning.

So she goes to town, gets the works - clothes for all the children, toys for the younger ones, gifts for the older, something special for the parents, something pretty, something frilly, something cool, most things practical, but sometimes something frivolous that they otherwise would not have had.

Imagine the time and dedication, the giving and the caring. Even for a self-confirmed shopaholic, the enormity of the task at hand is daunting. It’s hard enough buying things for yourself, but when all you know are the children’s ages, m/f and their sizes, and not even their favourite colours, imagine the difficulty in picking out the perfect gifts or the perfect matching clothes sets.

So a few of us have chipped in to help out; Bo and Unsanitary Man went toy shopping yesterday. Today we raided “Old Blue” for family number three. Two girls, ages 7 and 12, sizes 7-8 and 14-16… new jeans, shirts, a sweater, turtlenecks, white fuzzy earmuffs, matching white fuzzy purses, and faux angora hat for each of them. My little pink wool kilt got nixed because it was too short…Ms. Santa Claus, you see, has a conscience.

Tomorrow night we will be wrapping presents while sipping mugs of spiced hot chocolate, scraps of tinsel and wrapping paper abound. Strains of Bing, Frankie and Nat will echo through the air along with the shouts of “three cheers for Bo…our very own Ms. Santa Claus.”

Merry Christmas, everyone. 'Tis the season for giving... if you can, go adopt your own family and spread a little Christmas cheer.