A Summer Letter to Santa

Dear Santa Claus,

I recently checked out your book The Red Suit Diaries (which you published under the name Ed Butchart) from the library as my fascination with the man with the beard has grown lately. You told stories of what it was like being in the red suit and I wanted to thank you for them. You made me tear up more than once. Your Christlike nature and your life of service has inspired me to put my pen to the paper and tell you my stories from the perspective of one of those many children who have sat on the lap of a man like yours.

My father was English and he and my mother moved to England before my elder sister was born. My earliest Christmas memory comes from around the age of two. My sister and I were playing upstairs in our flat when mother and father called down to us from the front door. "Come and see who's coming down the street!" Being much too busy to pause our game we asked who it was. "Look out the window!" The window was much closer than downstairs and so we parted the curtains and looked. A man with a beard and red suit was coming down the street with an old rocking horse on his shoulders (probably picked up from a thrift store; it must have been at least 100 years old as people tend to keep things for a very long time in England). We ran downstairs and met Father Christmas for the first time. Mother told me years after it was Poppy, my father's father. I guess he did that for the church parties when all his kids were growing up and he now did it for all the cousins.

That began my fascination. My father and I would wear Santa hats to the park even when it wasn't Christmas season. In the car before we drove places I had to call out the names of the reindeer. Even though we named the car "the Batmobile" it was still my sleigh. I'd crack my imaginary whip in the air and away we'd go!

I'd stand up by our fireplace and wear the hat, my boots, and sling a bag over my shoulder and put on a little Christmas show. My father must have used up a good bit of string and a few napkins to make me beards. They were easy to make but also easy to accidentally tear, he was always willing to make me another.

We planned to move to America. My father unscrewed the legs of the rocking horse from the rocking tracks and fit it into a suitcase (it might have been a first for the people at customs to see that on their screen while scanning the baggage!). We moved and father soon found out he had cancer. As a fireman, that wasn't uncommon but he was in excellent shape. Because all the health and life insurance had been cancelled in England meaning to set some up in the U.S., he was forced to return to England where healthcare is free. In January of 1999, after not seeing him for several long months, my mother was left a widow at 25 with three children all under the age of 5.

  I attended preschool daycare at Ricks College while my mother took classes. The children made fun of the way I talked and I felt very alone. One week near Christmas we sang Jingle Bells and then a bearded man entered the room. His suit was more purple than red, and his belt had sleigh bells on it. This wasn't like any Santa I had seen. He began to hand out stuffed animals from his pack. I wanted a Dalmatian puppy. My father had been a fireman and I loved the movie 101 Dalmatians. Before it was my turn I saw the man hand another boy a Dalmatian stuffed animal. I retreated farther to the back of the class crying and hid in the potted plants. The man was handing out stuffed animals to the two remaining kids when one of my teachers came and gently took me by the arm.

"What's wrong?" She asked as she put her arm around me.
"There's nothing in that bag for me." I had begun to realize how little my family really had and knew that we couldn't afford much. And even now I knew there wouldn't be anything I could have from the man with the beard. The sack was empty.
"Well, let's go ask."

My teacher led me up to the man and I cried harder. She spoke to him. Though he didn't touch me I calmed down enough to look up in his eyes. Kind eyes. Loving eyes. He reached into his sack and handed me the last stuffed animal he had. It was a Dalmatian puppy. I knew then that Santa Claus was real.

In the grocery store I'd ride in the shopping cart, calling out the names of my reindeer as I wore a Santa hat. I would ask those passing by if they had been good. Many looked surprised and didn't answer this five year old. Two old ladies came up once and said they indeed had been good. One of them asked for a pink corvette and I told her I'd see what I could do.

My younger sister and I were partners in crime. We decided one year that this was the year we'd catch Santa Claus. I tied a slipknot in a jump rope and put it by the door (we didn't have a chimney in the apartment) and waited. We woke up at midnight to a manly knock at the door. We didn't answer. Mother came out of her room and checked the peephole.

"You guys aren't gonna believe this."
"Who is it?"
"It's Santa."
"Nuh uh!"

She opened the door to show us. He stood there. A very tall Santa, well rounded too. He came in and delivered presents to us and let us sit on his knee. I asked him if I could pull down his beard. He told me I could on one condition: he could pull my ear as hard as I pulled his beard. Deal. I grabbed his beard and before I could yank he about ripped my ear off! When he left we waited till mother had left the room then we quickly rushed outside to follow him to see what car he drove or if he really did have a sleigh. Nothing was stirring. Santa was beginning to be more real.

Just before my 3rd grade class was to leave for school pictures I was excused from class to go change. In my picture I'm wearing a red jogging sweater with fluff sewn onto the neck and down the front, a Santa hat, and white gloves (though they're not in the frame). My mother had made it. Though it wasn't finished (the fluff on the front wasn't sewn on all the way) I wore it because Santa was real.

At Wal Mart one year they had a Santa dummy that waved. He was about my height. I wished I had the $100 or so in order to buy him just for his suit. They had Santa suits for sale that year but I didn't have enough to get one.

Me, my elder sister, and the rocking horse

Years passed. We moved around to different places in Idaho but we always loved Christmas. Miracle on 34th Street, White Christmas, Holiday Inn, The Muppets Christmas Carol, Santa Claus is Coming to Town, and The Santa Clause films (especially the first one) all became dear classics to me. Two failed marriages later we found ourselves in a town near to where we had first moved after my father passed. At the school they had a Christmas activity called Operation Merry Christmas. The school had a fundraiser and each grade tried to win by donating more against the others. It was all in fun. The money was then used to surprise 20 families or so with Christmas presents and dinners left in boxes on their front doors. Though we were better off by then we were always one of those families.

The church we attended never let us want for Christmas dinner. Not only would the clergymen deliver a box of goods, but many times other members of the congregation or even friends of the family would deliver food. Due to Operation Merry Christmas and the church delivering us frozen turkeys for the holidays, I left for religious volunteer work high school leaving four turkeys in the downstairs freezer. When I came home two years later there were three. As the son of a widow I can assure everyone that sometimes turkey isn't always what we lack. The visits and the help around the house was what made us thankful, no matter what part of the year it came in.

During my senior year I was yearbook photographer. I was quick to edit pictures and so the extra class time I'd have to be doing something. While running an errand once to the teacher's lounge I came across a garbage bag with an old woolly red suit in it! No one seemed to know who it belonged to so I hid it in one of the closets. On Thursdays I'd run to the lounge and put on the suit then run around the school (it was a small town and I knew which teachers wouldn't mind me running in for a split second to wish them a Merry Christmas!). I even made it into the student body officer pictures in my suit even though I wasn't a part of the student council.

I'm currently living in the city we first moved to when we arrived in Idaho. I married a lovely girl December 23 of last year. I currently work in the same line of employment that my elder sister and mother have worked in, looking after the Lord's special children who have grown up and live on their own but still need a friend there to help assist them. It constantly reminds me of the times Jesus talked about becoming as a little child. They are sweet. And as you put it, the Lord loves them just the same.

Our Nativity

As a husband and as an artist my hands are always itching to find something to work on or fix. That old antique rocking horse lost half of his hoof, his tack is incomplete and what remains is broken, his mane is short in some places and long in others from young kids grooming him, his ears don't match his coat, and he never had a tail that matched his mane as far back as I can remember. While visiting my mother she told me about his hoof and I realized I might be able to fix that. The tracks were battered and the paint peeling. The original stain hadn't been put on their carefully either. I discussed colors with her and took him to my "adoptive" Grandpa's house where my wife and I would be house sitting.

I began to unscrew the base from the legs and froze. The last time this had been done was more than 17 years ago by my father. It was a special moment for me. After buying paint, stain, and gloss and using the tools in my grandpa's garage, I sanded and stained the base, I painted his nose and mouth and glossed it. I searched for wool string for the hair then sewed on a mane and a tail to match. The whole time I was thinking about England and Santa.

The Rocking Horse currently

I checked out movies and a few Christmas books. I read one called The Immortal Nicholas which tells a fictional story about how St. Nicholas comes to know of Christ. Your book came in a few days later and I read it the same day I checked it out. It helped demonstrate to me even more ways of how I can take the teachings of our Savior and implement them while still celebrating Christmas commercially. I've always wanted to give back to those men in the red suit who have influenced me to give gifts to those I hardly knew. As I grew older I was a bit conflicted about which side to take, Santa's or the Savior's. But now I know there's a way to do both by spreading His love through the actions of a jolly old elf. You've connected them together, and now they'll never be separable and I'll be able to raise my children to understand that.

You've changed my life for the better.

Thank you, Santa Claus.

Stuart Deacon Jr.

Preparing for Zombies

Usually I come up with the title after I've written out what I wanted to say. This time I'm spurred on by my passion for emergency preparedness. My grandmother was big into scouting when my mother and her siblings were growing up. When we go camping for our family reunion in the Tetons every summer she cooks using dutch ovens. She's gotten so good throughout the years that her recipes have listed the specific amount of coals on the lid and around the base of the dutch ovens.

All of my mother's brothers were a part of the scouting program (my father's side of the family doesn't have the Boy Scouts of America because they're English). I achieved the rank of Eagle Scout around my 18th birthday in the spring of 2013. Camping has been a big part of my life due to my family's involvement in scouting.

Turns out my wife loves to camp as well. We haven't been camping as of yet but I'm already getting plenty of ideas to get ready for this year's family reunion. I also want to be prepared in case of an emergency. Natural disasters or... zombies, etc. Who knows? I've been looking on eBay and other places online looking at the price my desired inventory will cost. Because we live above a television store and not on ground level, I've planned to pack everything very tightly and put it into the trunk of our explorer (wrecked my first one and we've just bought another).

Planning to be prepared for camping or a disaster gives me a thrill! I can't wait to get everything and put it all together. At that point one could call me "adventure ready." I'm looking forward to this year's Family Camp out and to all the fun outdoorsy times I'm going to be able to have while being prepared for the worst.

The World

Why do we want to get away?
It would be impossible to visit everywhere in the world in a single lifetime, and yet I still want to travel the world. With the advancement of technology anyone can access pictures and video of any popular tourist spot. Films depict these wonderful places in many different ways as well. The images of these far away locations inspire us to travel and to visit these places. Perhaps it's a sense of adventure that makes us want to spread our wings and fly away from all that we know. Do we get sick of the same scenery outside of our window? Why do we all seem to suffer from "small town" syndrome?

Let me tell you, I'm actually from a small town. I moved away from South Shields when I was about 3 and a half years old. Since then I've lived in Rexburg, St. Anthony, Meridian (that one was huge!), Idaho Falls (a good sized town), Sugar City (population 1514 and no stop lights), and recently moved back to Rexburg after I got married. But Sugar City is still clinging on to me like a strand of spiderweb and this makes me anxious to get out.

My sense to travel could be because I was born in England and have only visited twice there since moving to America. The castles, the countryside, the accent, it's all foreign (is that a pun?) to me now that I've relocated. Not only do I want to eventually go and visit my father's side of the family and my homeland. I also have a passion for museums and art, and that means France isn't out of the question. My desire is to answer the questions I have and to experience the things I have only heard about. Who wouldn't want to leave their worries behind and go on an adventurous vacation?

What's out there?
Perhaps it's because we seek the unknown. We naturally develop questions about things we don't understand and the places we have never visited provide an opportunity to discover the unfamiliar and fascinating. What is waiting to be discovered? I've been in enough history classes to know that there are amazing places to visit and to take your own pictures of. I'd like to take my camera and find out what memories I can capture, save, and share with others.

I wonder if I'll end up telling  my children or grandchildren about my travels. Perhaps I won't even be financially stable enough to go until I have grandchildren. There are a lot of 'ifs' and 'buts' in dealing with plans of the future, especially those that involve as much money as it takes to travel. But isn't it a goal worth achieving if it's just for the memories that you'll make? Why must we stay at home and be content with an average lifestyle when we have the whole world offering itself to us. I want to discover what's out there for me, and I think the trips will be well worth it.

What is left behind?

Ideas. Each one is the beginning of something, the center of a web that can be expanded as time passes. As I've been reading some articles lately about entrepreneurs I've found what appears to be a thread. Starting with a single idea these people made it big but one particular idea is what they are best known for. "Oh you're the guy who made that eh?" My question is: what is your idea going to be? What are you going to be known for? It's not just for business, it's not just for monetary gain, it will be the legacy you leave behind.

What do you like to do?

Though I enjoy writing I haven't written anything that would be a best seller, nor am I a playwrite. I sometimes wonder if I'd ever have the chance or creativity to create a world totally of my own. George Lucas created the beloved Star Wars universe. JK Rowling inspired her readers to wait for an owl carrying a certain letter from a particular school. CS Lewis spread Christian teachings to the world through his metaphoric novels. And the beloved JRR Tolkien constructed a home away from home for those who are adamant page turners. These authors have inspired the world with what they like to do.

That one person

Attending a massive school gives plenty of opportunities to run into people you may not know by name. People tend to remember what people have done rather than their names (actions speak louder than words?). All of us at some point have heard a story from someone else about something happening. From breakups to funny things said, there's always a story connected to someone. Now we find ourselves in public, at a party, or meeting someone our roommate brought over.

"This is so-and-so, remember me talking about them?"
"Um... no?"
"The person who ____________?"
"Oh, yeah!" *queue shaking hands* "That was hilarious! I saw the YouTube video of what you did."

And from then on, they are known by that deed. It's their ID to get into other people's contacts list.

The Legacy

What will people remember about me when I'm gone? Shakespeare wrote in Julius Caesar, "The evil that men do lives after them; The good is oft interred with their bones..." Unless I do something outstanding that will outweigh my mistakes those who live after me will only hear of the bad. A man who enjoyed painting beautifully is now only remembered for his unjust persecution of the Jews.

What do people want to hear, see, feel, taste, or touch? What product will people want in their lives? Certain characteristics? A particular sense of humor? Something that makes a task easier for them? What will people remember about somebody? The legacy left behind will be what you decide to do with your life. Will you be remembered as someone who was a couch potato or as someone who went out of their way to help others? Will you make a name for yourself in the field of your choice or will you be satisfied with working somewhere you don't want to? I want to be remembered for good, not for bad. I want to write a joyful story full of adventure and love not dismal and story that's plain and begins and ends with me forever wishing but never actually living my dreams.

With the ideas that have begun to spin into webs, which one will we be remembered by? It depends on what audience is watching. Our ideas, our actions, our fate, how can we inspire for the better? We each can make a difference, let's make it a great one.

What is 'it' and is it contagious?

I've been watching a lot of movies lately during my graveyard shifts. My choice of films range from those found on Netflix, YouTube, and those in my feed on Facebook. When I wake up in the evening I have time to kill before going to work so I pop in one of the DVDs I've checked out from the library, sometimes watching two before heading off to work and then perhaps popping another before going to bed when I come home.

I've watched so many movies and films that I found myself completely baffled about the whole thing. What makes (certain) actors so successful? How do they develop a character well enough to bring in praise? What makes a good movie good? Why do people watch those little clips from social media sites that people post? Why do people watch certain types of movies over others?

I didn't have a definitive answer, but I knew that there was something they all had.

Errol Flynn

While watching the behind the scenes DVD edition of 'The Adventures of Robin Hood' the comparison was made between Errol Flynn and Patric Knowles. They both were charming and good looking but Flynn seemed to have something Knowles lacked: 'it'. During the "Up a Lazy River" number in the film 'Beyond the Sea' Bobby's mother tells a young Bobby Darin that in order "to be a big star you gotta be talented obviously... you've gotta have it!"

This lead me to ask, "So what is this 'it' that makes these performers click?"

With further investigation I can only say that I have identified other actors who have 'it' as well. Some of the films these actors are in may not have the best screenplay yet are enjoyable to watch. I have found myself puzzled by the whole 'it' aspect and I struggle to watch movies now with unknown actors in them or when the script itself doesn't have the 'it' to keep the audience interested.

I find that people enjoy an actor/film/movie/book/media clip if they can invest themselves in it. Take Star Wars for example. People who love Star Wars love it because of one or more aspects found in it that they love. Harry Potter is the same way, the appeal of a secret world for young children to take a part in is just desireable. It's a young child's wish. I don't read things I'm not invested in. I don't watch movies that don't catch my attention in the first couple of minutes. I don't like to do things that I don't enjoy doing.

So what makes these actors so universal in their skills? How do we get to know the real side of them? I've turned to interviews to see how they behave without the costume and make-up on. What can we measure from what we see? Perhaps it is the confidence they have, many of these successful men and women are so wonderfully honest and polite in interviews and know what to say (Russell Crowe, Hugh Jackman). Perhaps it is their humor and liveliness (Chris Evans and Chris Hemsworth). Or perhaps they're just extremely good at what they do even though in person they're actually very shy (Johnny Depp).

It's an on going debate. What do you think?

What I Know

I was asked to address a church congregation about a week ago and today I fulfilled that request. I do not know a lot of things about public speaking, I haven't had much practice as a 20 year old to address a crowd of people who are there to actually listen and glean something beneficial from what I say. But today was another positive jolt.

I was sitting on the stand and my mind kept reminding my heart that I was running a race. I was so nervous. I hadn't had time to prepare for my talk as well as I'd liked. I had that morning written down some scripture references and some thoughts I could share. My assigned topic was one of the 10 commandments. I didn't know which one to pick.

I decided to cover the angle of obedience. How if we love God we will keep his commandments. Actions speak louder than words. As I was sitting there wondering, "Oh my goodness, what if this is all wrong for the people gathered here. What if no one here needs this?" I felt a feeling. The thought came to me, "Well then, who WOULD know if I was on the right track?" And I bowed my head and said a silent prayer asking for help. When I raised my head I had a spiritual confirmation, "If you have nothing to say on this subject, bear witness of what you know to be true. Do that, and the Spirit will be here."

I got to the pulpit and spoke. There were a few laughs and towards the end there was a lot of silence as people listened to what I knew to be true. Those things I know from the bottom of my heart. I am not perfect. I am a sinner, and I'm not proud to say that either, which means I'm willing to do something about it, to change my situation by first changing myself, one bit at a time.

I know that we can all find joy and happiness if we follow the commandments given in the holy scriptures and the words of the modern prophets. I know that I can be redeemed if I do what Jesus has asked of me.

The day will come when I'm backed to a wall of faith. And there I will make my stand. I shall never forsake my King, my God, and my Savior. I try to be better, and sometimes it's easy to forget because we live in this world where we must walk by faith and not by sight. But with faith, nothing is impossible. I know that God is our father and that Jesus Christ is his Son. I know that Jesus Christ restored His church through the Prophet Joseph Smith. And I believed it, and now I know it is a fact.


Because it's true.