This week’s Inspirational quote and interpretation was spurred by a conversation I had with my dear friend Alison last week. We were discussing holiday plans and she remarked that she used to make her children watch some of her favorite (but “old” and perhaps not currently “hip”) movies during family get-togethers, to which they would jokingly exclaim that she had “scarred them for life.” It reminded me of a similar quote (“You ruined my childhood”) shared by my daughter Campbell many years ago, which led to a now infamous Weis-family story that seems festively appropriate for this particular time of year. But first we start with a quote that reflects the tug-of-war my brain played against my heart in this situation…
“Better by far to embrace the hard truth than the reassuring fable. If we crave some cosmic purpose, then let us find ourselves a worthy goal.” – Carl Sagan
Some background: I believe it was somewhere in the neighborhood of 2005 that we discovered the “Elf of the Shelf” craze – this was before it became a best-selling book and phenomenon and was merely a holiday tradition that one of our neighbors had practiced for years. Campbell had been playing at her friend’s house, when she was told the story of their magical Christmas Elf. As many of you with children may already be familiar with the “practice,” I’ll summarize simply by saying that the Elf (represented by a small, posable figurine) is moved periodically around the house during the post-Thanksgiving and preparing-for-Christmas-festivities timeframe. The Elf’s job is to “watch and report back to Santa that the children are behaving.” Depending on the creativity of the parents, it’s not uncommon for the Elf to leave notes for the kids and sometimes even show evidence of their movements and mischief throughout the house, like glitter trails and tiny footprints in flour. You get the idea. However, one of the sacred rules is that the children can’t touch the Elf or it will take away the Christmas magic that allows them to come alive during the evening hours. Hours of family fun ensued every couple of days when the kids discovered that the Elf had moved and had to seek out and find the newest Elf observation spot.
After Campbell had shared this magical news with my wife Danielle, it wasn’t long afterwards that we had to start a similar tradition in our house with “new” Elves, Nixie and Trixie (because why have only one, when you can have two, right?). We had been happily practicing this holiday ritual for at least 3 years before the “incident” happened…
The setting of the story was sometime in the 2007-2008 timeframe. I believe that put Campbell at about the 10-11 year old range. We had recently moved from Fort Stewart, Georgia up to the Arlington, Virginia area for a new military assignment. During that fall Campbell had made some close friends from school and this particular early December weekend, her friend Nicole was over at the house to hang out. As Campbell was showing her our Christmas tree and assorted holiday decorations, I overheard Campbell excitedly point out Nixie’s newest hiding place. When Nicole asked a couple of skeptical follow-up questions, I couldn’t help but hear the passion and enthusiasm in Campbell’s voice as she courageously defended that Nixie did indeed come alive during the night and leave notes and surprises around the house in preparation for Christmas. Thankfully, Nicole didn’t push back too hard and like many 10-11-year-old’s, they quickly transitioned to some other new topic and went on their merry way.
I, however, was left in a bit of a quandary. Danielle and I had always tried our best to champion a healthy dose of reality, without crushing the beautiful creativity and optimism inherent in a child’s imagination. Like many other parents at the time, we unabashedly leveraged Santa’s naughty or nice list to encourage better behavior and loved to see the wonder and excitement in Campbell and Tucker’s eyes as they opened up Santa’s gifts on Christmas morning. But at this particular moment, I wondered if we had encouraged that position a little too strongly. I could tell that her new friend Nicole was surprised by Campbell’s fervent reaction. I was worried that as Campbell tried once again to establish herself in a new location and friend group (a challenge a military brat has to deal with every 2-3 years), she was soon to become a target for other 6th and 7th graders who had already crossed the reality threshold of the Santa fantasy. From my own experiences growing up as a military brat, I knew that some elementary and junior high school students can be mean spirited and brutal. Like a shark frenzy, when they smell blood in the water, they just can’t help themselves. I could only imagine what fun they might have with a young 10-year-old who still believed in Santa and Christmas elves.
I brought this up to Danielle later that day and we just looked at each other, hoping for a Christmas miracle to occur instead of having to break the bad news to Campbell. And despite my master negotiator skills and combat experience, I somehow lost the battle and got tagged with the unenviable task. So later that afternoon, I sat Campbell down and shared that I had overheard her conversation with Nicole. As gently as I could, I started to break down the myth of Santa and our holiday elves. She took it like a champ. Her expression remained neutral and my careful observation was unable to discern even the slightest tear or lip quiver. Campbell then smiled, laughed a little bit, and told me that she had known the truth for years. She just kept up the appearance for the sake of her little brother Tucker and because we all love the holiday season so much. Awesome… great… mission accomplished… good job dad! That was a lot easier than I expected. I told Danielle about the conversation and went about the rest of my day.
Later that evening, as Danielle was tucking Campbell in for bed, the real truth came out. Campbell burst into tears and sobbed into Danielle’s comforting embrace. What do you mean that Nixie and Trixie aren’t real? The notes and Christmas gifts from Santa are really from mom and dad? What other pillars of faith are going to come crashing down? Next, you’ll probably tell me that the Easter Bunny isn’t real, unicorns don’t exist, and that the Tooth Fairy doesn’t actually exchange my teeth for money. My childhood was built on a foundation of lies…
Ok, I might be slightly exaggerating and over-dramatizing the event, but that evening did see a lot of “truths” shared. Maybe too many for a young, impressionable 10-year mind, hence the “You ruined my childhood” quote from the beginning of this post. And yes, we can all laugh about it now (although there is still a bit of guilt that lingers), because time always has a way of smoothing out those rough edges of the actual moment.
As my “childhood crushing” story above alludes, sharing a hard truth can be difficult, especially when the new information has the potential to pull back a big, beautiful curtain only to discover that the “Oz” we were seeking might not be so Great and Powerful after all. And while I’d like to always reassuringly say, “Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus,” because I know in my heart that certain myths were purposefully designed to represent examples of love and generosity, I also feel compelled to embrace Carl Sagan’s quote because I often worry about the ancillary impacts on trust that a hard truth versus a reassuring fable can produce. So, regardless of what side of the fence you sit on in this debate (protect the precious imagination of youth or embrace the mantra that the truth will set you free), perhaps we can agree that your approach must be carefully balanced against the challenge of knowing “when” someone is ready to hear that truth. And finally, I’d be remiss if I didn’t highlight that it’s just as important to recognize that “you” may be the one who has been comfortably embracing that reassuring fable as well. What “truth” are you willing to uncover today?
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