787: Baby's First Christmas
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Prologue: Prologue
Ira Glass
Allen is not the real Santa Claus-- the guy in the North Pole. Obviously-- and I say this to any little kids who might be listening to me right now-- that guy in the North Pole is amazing. Allen is not that guy.
Allen's just a guy who dresses up as Santa sometimes. Allen doesn't have Santa's flying reindeer. Allen doesn't have legions of elves backing him up. And most of all, Allen doesn't have his years of experience.
Allen
This is my first year as Santa, my first-- oh, I'm going the wrong way.
Ira Glass
He's driving to his very first chair gig.
Allen
OK. I'm so nervous. I-- [BREATHES] I'm nervous. I'm really, really nervous.
Ira Glass
A chair gig-- you sit in a chair, talk to kids about what they want for Christmas. One of our producers, Aviva DeKornfeld, rode with him to this job. This was in Redlands, California, an hour or so east of Los Angeles.
Allen is an earnest guy with a kind face, who-- and he would tell you this himself-- tends to overthink things a little. Really, he told Aviva, he's not sure what to expect at this gig. Like, what could go wrong? So he's just been trying to prepare for everything by making some lists, checking them twice.
Allen
Last night, I made checklists on my phone for all the things that I would need and all the things I would potentially need. I have a backup for almost everything that I wear.
Aviva DeKornfeld
How come?
Allen
Well, in case a baby spits up, I need another shirt. If the coat gets dirty. I need another coat. And I have to have extra gloves, and I've been kind of manic about trying to anticipate all the catastrophes that could happen, one way or another, and prepare for them.
Ira Glass
He's also worried about his beard. He's 53, so his natural beard is still mostly brown.
Allen
So I started bleaching my beard in June, and my beard started getting smaller. The bleach was damaging it.
Aviva DeKornfeld
So it was breaking off?
Allen
Yeah.
Ira Glass
He's tried some expensive hair products to stop the damage, but it's still a little shorter than he wants. And maybe his greatest anxiety going into this gig was the questions that the kids might ask him. Would he say the right thing?
Allen
There might be a child with a real problem, like their mom is gone, or somebody is incarcerated, or something like that. And I can't-- I can't bring anyone back that they've lost, and I really worry about being asked about that. I can't bring someone home who's on a deployment somewhere.
Ira Glass
He frets and drives on his way to the gig, two full Santa's costumes in the bag. You know, Christmas comes around every year, always the same-- with the same songs, and the same stage props, and same specials on TV. You can get numb to it.
It's so easy to lose the magical feeling that so many people had as kids around the holiday. But one thing you can say about Allen-- he's not feeling numb. Just the opposite. He is on high alert.
Not just because he wants to be a perfect Santa for these little kids. Mainly, he's that way because it is his first time in the chair. And there are all kinds of reasons that is a big deal for him, that we're going to get into in a minute or two.
But my point right now is, when you're trying something for the first time, you can just taste all the potential and excitement of what it could be. You feel feelings. Which is why this Christmas, here at our show, we thought it would be nice to spend an hour with people who are not doing what they've ever done in the past at Christmas, who are not doing the same old, same old.
We want to spend the hour with people who are trying something brand new at Christmas, because they have a shot at some deep Christmas-y feeling. From WBEZ Chicago, it's This American Life. I'm Ira Glass. Stay with us.
Act One: Does Santa Believe in Himself?
Ira Glass
Act One, Does Santa Believe in Himself? OK, so Allen-- or maybe I should say Santa Allen-- is on his way to his first chair gig, as we said. Producer Aviva DeKornfeld went with him to see how he would do on that gig.
But to understand why he is so nervous and what he hoped to get out of the gig, you kind of have to understand what the job means for him in the first place. And so that is where Aviva is going to start.
Aviva DeKornfeld
Before getting into the Santa business, Allen had a job that was sort of the opposite of being Santa. He was a corrections officer at a state prison. He'd gotten into the work because he needed the money and stability, and stayed for over two decades.
But he hated it, and felt increasingly queasy about the whole system and his role in it. And then, in 2017, he got a break from it, though not under great conditions. He got really sick and ended up having to take nearly a year and a half off from work for medical leave.
He got depressed, stopped shaving, grew a long beard. One day, to cheer himself up, Allen and his wife, Erin, decided to go to a comic book convention.
Allen
Because, obviously, I'm kind of a nerd and I enjoy that sort of thing. But I went there, and I wasn't really having a very good time. And you know, I was taking a break from walking around in the convention, and I'm sitting in a little cafe.
And I'm having something to drink or eating a sandwich. I don't really remember. But there's this guy there and he says, hey, I like your beard. And I want, oh, um, thanks. And he gave me this little card, and what it is, it's a recruitment card for this Fraternal Order of Real-Bearded Santas.
Aviva DeKornfeld
Huh. There's something very sort of tied to the real world about the idea of recruiting a Santa, when it feels like it should just be like, some snow falls on your shoulder or something and you become Santa.
Allen
Yeah. But no, this was just a guy sitting around at a Comic-Con.
Aviva DeKornfeld
I talked to over a dozen first-time Santas in reporting the story. Nearly everyone had this in common. It was someone else who first identified them as Santa. Turns out, that is the magical snow that falls on your shoulder.
Allen shows a business card to his wife, Erin, who suggests he dress up for their godson's kids. Christmas is still months away, but it might give him something to look forward to.
Allen
I'm thinking, OK, well, I do have this beard now. And I've always been definitely on the rotund side of things. So I've got that working for me.
And I went, well, I should quit feeling sorry for myself and maybe do something with this now.
Aviva DeKornfeld
Allen figures, he'll play Santa, just this once, as a nice thing to do for his family. Since he's like a grandfather to these kids, Allen was worried they might recognize him. He bleached his beard white and asked a friend who knows how to sew to make him a red suit.
But on Christmas Eve, as he's heading over to the house, he realizes he actually has no idea what to do. So he just tries to imagine what a real Santa might do, then opens the door and makes an entrance.
Santa Allen
Ho, ho, ho! Who builds a house without a chimney?
Allen
And they're freaking out.
Santa Allen
Is it Christmas Eve?
Allen
They have no idea it's me. It was the furthest thing from their mind.
Santa Allen
Let's do this anyway!
Allen
I didn't have tremendous expectations going into it. And then, when I did it, it was just this tremendous rush of emotions, and that's not a thing that happens to me a lot. I've been a pretty buttoned-up person most of my life.
So when it was Santa for them, it became Santa for me. It's just one of the most powerful things I've ever felt in my life.
When I'm him, I'm a completely different person. And all my little neuroses and doubts and faults and foibles-- it's all gone. And all the problems that Allen has-- Santa doesn't have any of those.
Aviva DeKornfeld
Allen loved this new version of himself. But pretty soon, Christmas was over, and so was medical leave, which meant Allen's beard had to go. Because as a corrections officer, he had to be able to wear a gas mask in case a riot broke out at the prison, and you can't properly fit a gas mask over a beard. Allen couldn't afford to quit, so he grabbed his clippers and made himself shave off his beard.
Allen
[SIGHS] This is going to sound really weird. I still have that beard in a Ziploc bag.
Aviva DeKornfeld
Really?
Allen
Yeah. I mourned that beard.
Aviva DeKornfeld
Why do you still have it?
Allen
[SIGHS] I probably shouldn't. But it meant a lot to me. It was the key to the door that opened that let me do this. And when I had to shave that beard off, I was pretty unhappy about it. I was upset.
Aviva DeKornfeld
The next year, Allen bought a fake beard to play Santa. But it looked so bad, he couldn't bring himself to wear it. So two years pass without playing Santa.
And then, thanks in part to his wife, Erin, who was making enough money as an engineer to support them, Allen is finally able to retire. And he throws himself into becoming Santa.
The goal is to become a professional Santa-- the kind that someone might hire for, say, a private party or a parade or-- the Holy Grail of Santa engagements-- a chair gig. First thing-- Allen starts growing his beard back.
Then, he signs up for Santa's school, a weekend intensive where you learn everything, from what to say to skeptical kids to how to make an entrance. He meets lots of other Santas, who offer helpful tips like how to sneak in a bathroom break while staying in character. Apparently, you're supposed to say you have to make a call to the North Pole.
Allen
Finding out there's this entire world you didn't know about has been a little weird. And sometimes you wonder how you got to this place in life. This is a deeply weird thing for middle-aged and elderly guys to do. But-- but it's kind of wonderful. I mean, it's-- but it's deeply strange at the same time.
Aviva DeKornfeld
By the time I'm talking to him, Allen's spent almost a full year preparing for the role. He's a diligent and serious student of the Santa tradition, but there's one part of it he doesn't believe in-- the naughty list. Surprising, maybe, given his last job.
Allen
You've been bad, you're on the naughty list. That's no way to be.
Aviva DeKornfeld
Feels punitive.
Allen
Exactly. And that's-- I've seen punitive, and I don't think it works. So I want to be able to lift them up, rather than put them in a corner somewhere and tell them that you're this thing.
Aviva DeKornfeld
Being Santa lets them work on the other side of the ledger, which feels a lot better to him.
Allen
I tried to do that job as well as I could, but you know, it was really difficult. And when you run into a lot of people that are sort of on the naughty list, and you can't do anything for them, and they can't do anything for themselves, it feels kind of hopeless. That's a lesson I learned from my career. People need redemption.
They need to be accepted back into the fold, even if they've made mistakes. You know, finding a way to forgive other people sort of gives you an opening to forgive yourself. And there's a box of Kleenex here. [BLOWS NOSE]
Aviva DeKornfeld
The day has finally arrived for Allen's first-ever chair gig. We're driving to the event, which is at an abandoned Pier 1 in an outdoor mall, about a half an hour from his house.
We hop out of the car and meet Joanna Garcia, who hired Allen for the event. She lets us in through the back door of the building. There's a single clothing rack with T-shirts on it. Allen takes the shirts off, so he can use the rack to hang all the pieces of a Santa outfit. But he's so nervous, he keeps dropping stuff.
Allen
I'm kind of almost jittery. It almost feels like I'm doing slapstick or something. [LAUGHS]
Aviva DeKornfeld
A line forms outside while Allen changes into his costume. He's got a fur-lined red robe and matching hat and a green vest with gold buttons underneath. He's wearing big black boots and little half-moon spectacles that, I have to say, really pull the whole outfit together.
But he still just looks like a guy in a costume. And then the door is open, and the kids rush in.
[BELLS RINGING]
Santa Allen
Hello, everyone! Merry Christmas! Ho, ho! I love your dress!
Aviva DeKornfeld
Suddenly, he's Santa. Confident, arms stretched wide, beaming-- whatever the opposite of neurotic is, he is that. Two little girls walk in and spot him, and their eyes seem to double in size, like they're seeing something truly magical. It's clear they have no idea this is his first time doing this. To them, he's Santa.
Santa Allen
OK! Are we ready, everybody?
Child
Yeah.
Aviva DeKornfeld
The day begins.
Santa Allen
Do you know what you want for Christmas, sweetheart?
Child
Monster trucks.
Santa Allen
Monster trucks? I love monster trucks! [ROARS]
Aviva DeKornfeld
As you can hear, he's got his kid voice on. And I don't know what I expected, exactly, but this job requires just so much pep. Santa Allen is tap-dancing as fast as he can--
Santa Allen
(SINGING) Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way.
Aviva DeKornfeld
--to keep the kids happy and engaged--
Santa Allen
Fist bump! Yeah! Blow it up! Boom!
Aviva DeKornfeld
--so the photographer, Sam, can snap a good picture for the parents.
Santa Allen
(SINGING) Paw Patrol, Paw Patrol, paw, paw, paw, paw, paw, paw, paw, Paw Patrol!
Aviva DeKornfeld
Watching Santa Allen, I thought about this thing another Santa-- a pastor named Santa Don-- told me. Santa Don said that back when he was in graduate school for psychology, on his first day of class, his professor asked, how many of you have people who are already coming to you for counseling?
Don and a few other students raise their hands. Then the professor goes, I'm going to be honest with you. If people aren't already coming to you, getting a degree from here probably won't change that.
You're either the kind of person people want to confide in, or you're not. Don thinks that the same is true for Santa. There's some innate Santa essence, some Santa vibe, that you either have or you don't.
And here, on his first chair gig, Santa Allen seemed to have it, though it didn't always go so smoothly with every kid.
[CHILD CRYING]
Santa Allen
(SINGING) Here comes Santa Claus, here comes Santa Claus, right down Santa Claus--
[CHILD CONTINUES CRYING]
Oh! [LAUGHS]
Aviva DeKornfeld
There were a lot of crying babies.
[BABY CRYING]
Santa Allen
Oh! I'm so sorry! We'll get you next year! I'll see you on Christmas Eve, my friend.
Aviva DeKornfeld
Sometimes kids asked Santa Allen for things that threw him for a loop, like the boy who said he wanted trouble for Christmas, or the girl who just wanted socks.
Santa Allen
But, like, character socks, right? Good socks? No? Just regular sock socks? OK, that's good.
Aviva DeKornfeld
One little girl wanted two hamsters, but as she asked for them, her parents stood behind her with wide eyes, vigorously shaking their heads, no. Of course, there were some awkward moments, like when Santa Allen accidentally mistaked a boy with long hair for a girl. And this kid, who looked like a tiny adult, and who is not having it with Santa Allen's questions--
Santa Allen
I have animals. Do you know what kind of animals I have?
Child
Uh, the pretend kind.
Santa Allen
No, the real reindeer. They have antlers like this.
Child
Yeah, I know. I've seen them on TV.
Santa Allen
Have you seen Rudolph? Have you seen his nose?
Child
Yeah, I know. His nose lights up.
Santa Allen
Yeah it lights up, and it's red. Are you going to school right now?
Child
No.
Santa Allen
No?
Child
I'm barely four.
Santa Allen
Oh, some people go to school when they're four.
Aviva DeKornfeld
Santa Allen had imagined fielding all these big, hard questions from kids. But in practice, the real work of imitating Santa is more like working in a factory line, a quick back-and-forth, snap a picture, then onto the next. The hardest question he ended up getting was about Mrs. Claus.
Child
I was going to ask you--
Santa Allen
OK.
Child
--if you can ask Mrs. Claus if she actually does bake cookies. So like, if she does, can she send me one?
Santa Allen
I don't-- she doesn't-- she just mostly makes them for the North Pole, but we'll ask. And she is important. She is the CEO of the North Pole. Mrs. Claus is actually my boss.
Aviva DeKornfeld
Allen wanted to yes-and the little girl, but didn't want to promise cookies and set her up to be disappointed on Christmas Day. So instead, he pivoted to a feminist message. He later told me, he wants to update the image of Mrs. Claus for kids, especially for girls. He doesn't like the idea that she just bakes cookies and putters around the North Pole all day.
At 1:00 PM, the doors are closed. Santa Allen's been there for two hours, talked to over 100 kids. He changes out of his costume and into what's referred to as "Santa casual" -- red clothing, but not the whole shebang. Christmas Lite. He packs up, and we get in the car.
We're about to drive back to his house, when Allen realizes he's left his backpack inside the store. This is a problem for him, because he really doesn't want to go back and get it and have people see him when he's not in the full Santa costume. But as we're walking back to the Pier 1, a guy in a car notices Allen.
Man
Santa?
Aviva DeKornfeld
Allen puts his finger up to his lips, as if to say, shh!
[ALLEN LAUGHS]
Man
I won't say nothing.
Allen
(LAUGHING) OK.
Aviva DeKornfeld
I won't say nothing, the guy says. Then, we're standing in front of the store, waiting to be let back in, when a girl in the backseat of a car driving by yells, Santa!
Allen
Oh, jeez. I kind of don't want to ruin the image for anybody.
Aviva DeKornfeld
You feel embarrassed.
Man
I-- yeah.
Aviva DeKornfeld
Allen tries to tuck himself into the corner of the building by the door to hide from people, but it doesn't work. At all. Everyone who passes by double-takes him or yells at him.
Woman
Hey, Santa!
Allen
Hi.
Aviva DeKornfeld
Allen looks miserable.
Aviva DeKornfeld
It's funny, you've transformed back into Allen.
Allen
I know.
Aviva DeKornfeld
Without the robe.
Allen
I know. You love watching me squirm like this.
Aviva DeKornfeld
No! I don't. But I'm struck by the transformation.
Allen
Yeah.
Aviva DeKornfeld
How different you are.
Allen
I guess I'm back to being Clark Kent or something. I don't know.
Aviva DeKornfeld
You're literally cowering in a corner. This is not the man I saw 30 minutes ago.
Allen
I'm-- I'm not him. I'm me.
Aviva DeKornfeld
Allen did not plan on ending his first chair gig glued to the side of a Pier 1. But there is a part of him, he tells me later, that's relieved to be himself again. All that cheeriness, being so enthusiastically on-- it's exhausting being Santa.
Ira Glass
Aviva DeKornfeld is one of the producers of our show.
Act Two: Jews for Jesus, for Just One Day
Ira Glass
Act Two, Jews for Jesus, for Just One Day. For Alex Edelman, it's easy to remember his first Christmas, because it was his only Christmas. He was raised as an Orthodox Jew. And he says his family was very Jewish, casually dropped Hebrew around the house.
He and his brother, AJ, called their parents Eema and Abba for Mom and Dad. He's a comedian and tells this story about how they were so Jewish and so surrounded by Jews, he didn't even know he was Jewish for a while.
Alex Edelman
And I remember the first time I was aware of being Jewish. I was at a children's birthday party at a Chuck E. Cheese, and I reached for a slice of pizza that had some sausage on it or some pepperoni-- something not kosher. And my grandfather saw me reaching, and he kicked my hand away.
[AUDIENCE LAUGHTER]
Kicked. And he went, you can't have that! We're Jewish! And I said, what does that mean? And with a totally straight face, he just went, it means you'll never be happy.
[AUDIENCE LAUGHTER]
And I went, Papa! I don't want to be Jewish! And then, my grandfather laughed at me and went, ha-ha! Chief, that's the most Jewish thing there is!
[AUDIENCE LAUGHTER]
Ira Glass
When Alex and his brother, AJ, were little, they attended yeshiva, Jewish day school. So like I say, their whole world was people who never celebrated or talked about Christmas. But in the show Alex has been touring, he talks about this one December when he was six and AJ was four.
He mentions, by the way, a family friend in the story. And he changed her name when he tells the story on stage. Here's Alex.
Alex Edelman
All of the best Jewish moments of my life are moments where Jewish values presented themselves in, like, unconventional places. Like, once, when I was a kid, my family had Christmas. My mom had this friend named Kelly.
And Kelly had lost her siblings, like, in years previous, and her parents weren't in the picture. She was alone in Boston, and my mom noticed that she would get sad around the holidays. And this was a really good friend, and so my mom said, hey, Kelly, why don't you come to our house for Christmas?
That's the kind of person my mom was. My father did not want that. My mom is a Jew from Cincinnati. She's a Midwestern Jew. It's a slightly gentler existence.
[AUDIENCE LAUGHTER]
My father grew up Jewish in Boston, like me. But Dad grew up Jewish in Boston in a time when it's actually really hard to be Jewish there, which is between the years 1500 and 1994. He's like, Cheryl, I will not have Christmas in a Jewish home! And she's like, Elazer, we're having Christmas. And he's like, over my dead body are we having Christmas! So they compromised, and we had Christmas.
AJ and I come downstairs one day. My parents are sitting in the living room. I don't know if anyone else grew up in a home like this. We were never allowed, as children, in the living room, never.
The living room was for guests and tragedy. So those are the only times we were allowed. And everything in the living room was covered with, like, a thick plastic sheet, in case, like, the real owners of the home showed up one day.
[AUDIENCE LAUGHTER]
We come downstairs. My parents are in the living room. No guests. And AJ and I look at each other like, oh, no, Bubbe died again. (LAUGHING) And we walk in, and we sit down on the forbidden couch.
And my mom just went, boys, this year, we're going to have Christmas. And this is how young and insulated we were. AJ and I looked at each other, and we looked at my parents, and I just went, "What's Christmas?"
And my father went-- [SIGHS] "It's like Hanukkah." And my mom undermined him immediately and went, "Yeah but, maybe even a little bit more fun!" Hanukkah sucks! I appreciate the new politically correct world that everybody lives in. We all pretend that all the holidays are equal.
They are not equal. Everybody knows it. Hanukkah is very much the Diet Coke to Christmas' black tar heroin. There is no comparison. There is no comparison.
And you never know when Hanukkah is, because the calendars-- sometimes it's in early December. Sometimes it's in, like, late July. You never [BLEEP] know. But my non-Jewish friends are always like, well, you guys are lucky. You get eight days of gifts. I have never met a single Jew who has ever received eight days of gifts.
Here's how it works. You get one gift over the course of the eight days. If you're getting a bike, you get, like, a pedal on the first day, the handlebars the second day, and the wheel on the third day. It is absolute bull-[BLEEP]. Anyway.
We do Christmas, and oh my god, do we do Christmas. We do the lights. We do the stockings and glitter. We went whole hog-- no hog. Kosher Christmas dinner. But we deck these goddamn halls. Deck.
And Kelly comes into our house, and Kelly-- white, WASP, like Princess Diana haircut, chunky gold earrings, Hermes scarf, shocking blue pantsuit-- white. But she walks into her house like a little kid. And she starts to cry immediately.
And my mom just went, boys, whatever Kelly wants to do, we're going to do. And we did all this deep-cuts Christmas stuff. Like, we strung popcorn together on a string. We ate our way through the entire chocolate advent calendar in, like, 25 minutes.
And we watched Christmas movies. Please try to imagine being a young Jew who has never seen a single Christmas movie. And then one day, you watch, like, seven of them in a row. AJ and I are like, what is this! And the one that sticks out is the Peanuts Christmas special.
Snoopy, Charlie Brown-- AJ and I are, like, pressed up against screen. We're, like, vibrating with joy, and it's like, the meaning of Christmas, Snoopy! I'm like, the spirit of Christmas, Charlie Brown! My dad's in the corner, like, praying for lightning. And, like--
[AUDIENCE LAUGHTER]
At some point, Kelly, crying, walks over to us, and she's like, boys, we need to put out cookies for Santa Claus, don't we? And AJ and I are like, uh-huh! And we look at my dad, who's already covering his face, and I just went, "Aba! Who's Santa Claus?"
And my father rarely cursed in front of us. And my mother says she doesn't think this happened, but I remember so clearly-- and maybe he thought we couldn't hear him. My father looked at my mom, and he went, "Cheryl! Jesus [BLEEP] Christ!"
[AUDIENCE LAUGHTER]
And my mom went, "Elazer!" And he went, "Come on!" And she went, "Do it!"
My father walked up to us, and he went, "Santa Claus, boys-- he is a fat man.
[AUDIENCE LAUGHTER]
And he comes down non-Jewish chimneys in the middle of the night, and he gives gifts to young gentiles."
[AUDIENCE LAUGHTER]
And he said, "He's like Elijah. But instead of drinking your wine, he eats cookies and leaves you gifts." If you don't know who Elijah is, on Passover, the Jewish holiday, in my house, here's what will happen.
Your uncle will open the door for Elijah. And then, one of the other uncles under the table will start kicking the table. When the wine cup shakes, they'll go, look, he's drinking! He's drinking!
[AUDIENCE LAUGHTER]
And AJ and I look at each other. And we look at my dad. And AJ just went, "B'emet?" Which means, "For real?" And my father looked at my mom, and he looked at us, and he went, "Yeah, of course he's real."
[AUDIENCE LAUGHTER]
We put out cookies for Santa Claus. I remember every little detail, little table, red tablecloth, Power Rangers plate, three chocolate chip cookies. We're very skeptical, obviously.
We go upstairs. We go to bed. We come downstairs the next morning. The cookies are gone! They're gone! And AJ and I see this, and we black out completely.
[AUDIENCE LAUGHTER]
We, like, lose consciousness. But I know what's happened, because I saw home videos a couple of years ago, and on them, we're like, oh, my god! Oh, my god! He was here! He was here!
And at some point, AJ is standing on the couch, and he looked at me, and he just went, "Santa came!" And I went, "Baruch HaShem!"
[AUDIENCE LAUGHTER]
And we ran out to the garage. Why? This is the one concession my father got from my mom. He's like, Cheryl, I will not have a Christmas tree in a Jewish home. And she's like, I can respect that, Elazer. We'll put it in the garage.
And there are two photos of this. They're the weirdest photos. We're wearing jackets, because we're in a Boston garage in December. We're wearing pajamas, because we're children. And we're wearing yarmulkes, because we're Jews. But we're standing in front of a fully-decorated Christmas tree with a teddy bear on the top, holding a dreidel and wearing a yarmulke!
[AUDIENCE LAUGHTER]
And we go to yeshiva that day, because Jewish day school, if you can believe it-- not canceled for Christmas. And we come home that night, and my father gets a phone call. It's exactly what you think.
[AUDIENCE LAUGHTER]
And he picks it up. And the first thing the principal says to him is, Professor Edelman! Your sons have a lying problem! My father said, what did they do? And the principal said, well, the teacher tried to explain to the children the very delicate topic of Christmas.
And Alex raised his hand, and he said, we had Christmas. And the teacher said, you didn't have Christmas. And he said, hmm, I'm pretty sure we had Christmas. Lights, stockings, Snoopy, Charlie Brown, meaning of Christmas--
And the teacher's like, you didn't have Christmas. You had Hanukkah, three weeks ago or nine months from now, depending on the year. Anyway, non-Jews believe in this guy, called Santa Claus.
And in my mind's eye, I remember AJ raising his hand and saying, we had Santa Claus. That's what I remember. But there are conflicting accounts here.
Apparently, AJ didn't raise his hand. Apparently, AJ, in the words of the teacher, lifted two fingers, like he was ordering a second Martini. And AJ didn't say, we had Santa Claus. Apparently, AJ just went, we know Santa Claus.
[AUDIENCE LAUGHTER]
And the teacher's like, you don't know Santa Claus, AJ! And AJ's like, mmm, pretty sure I know Santa Claus. And the other kids are like, who's Santa Claus? AJ's like, oh! He's amazing! He's a fat man, and he comes down non-Jewish chimneys in the middle of the night, and he gives gifts to the young gentiles.
He's like Elijah, but instead of wine, there's cookies and gifts. But last night, because he's friends with our dad--
[AUDIENCE LAUGHTER]
--he came down our chimney, and he left this Walkman underneath the tree that my parents put in the garage, and he ate all of the cookies! The principal said, Professor Edelman, is this true? And apparently, my father just went, no. It's not entirely true.
And the principal said, what do you mean it's not entirely true? And my father said, Cheryl and I ate the cookies.
[AUDIENCE LAUGHTER]
AJ's wrong. Santa didn't come to our house. And my mom says there was a significant pause on the other end of the phone. And then, the principal went, I know Santa didn't come to your house!
[AUDIENCE LAUGHTER]
Yet, Christmas? My father explained. He explained that Kelly was bereft and that she had nowhere to go, and that he had reservations about this. But he let it happen, because he thought it was actually a really valuable, teachable moment, where you could explain to his children that doing the thing centered in Jewish values may not always appear conventionally Jewish.
And more than anything else, doing this for this woman, who really had nowhere to go, really-- it was a classic example of what Jews would traditionally call mitzvah, which means good deed. Principal listens, Dad explains. My dad finishes.
The principal said, Professor Edelman, I understand where you're coming from, but you're wrong. Because what you've actually done is you've introduced this holiday that is foreign and corrosive into your home. And you've clearly confused your children, and perhaps harmed them permanently.
Well, you've given them this holiday, and next year, you're going to take it away from them. So what's that going to do? This isn't a good deed. This isn't a mitzvah. It's idol worship, which is the most grievous sin that a Jew can possibly commit.
And you and your wife need to begin repenting for that right now. And my father, to his credit, went-- well, clearly, rabbi, you don't understand the meaning of Christmas. And then, he hung up the phone.
[AUDIENCE APPLAUSE]
Ira Glass
Alex Edelman, with an excerpt of his one-man show, Just For Us, has taken the show to London in January. To find out when he's bringing the show to your city, go to AlexEdelmancomedy.com. The radio excerpt of his story was produced for our show by Aviva DeKornfeld.
Coming up-- the hottest, sexiest parts of It's a Wonderful Life, and other revelations about a very old film from a first-time viewer. That's in a minute, from Chicago Public Radio, when our program continues.
Act Three: Buffalo Girls Can’tcha Come Out Tonight
Ira Glass
It's This American Life. I'm Ira Glass. Today's program-- Baby's First Christmas. Stories of people trying something for the very first time at Christmas, and what that does for them. We've arrived at Act Three of our show, Act Three, Buffalo Gals, Can't You Come Out Tonight?
So in this story, the new experience that somebody is having at Christmas is simple. We have a grown man, a man who loves films-- classic films, obscure films, new films, all kinds of films-- and he's seen tons of them-- who, somehow, has never seen the most pervasive movie that's out there at Christmas-- It's a Wonderful Life.
That man-- somebody who's been on the show a bunch, one of our former producers, Neil Drumming. Our executive editor, Emanuele Berry, is, in real life, friends with Neil, and took it upon herself to change his life forever, or possibly not at all, and show him the film.
Emanuele Berry
I've watched a lot of movies with Neil. It's fun, because he gets so giddy and excited about showing you a movie you haven't seen. You always know you're going to have a thoughtful conversation afterwards.
But I also sometimes hate it-- like when he recites all the dialogue in Dazed and Confused while you're trying to watch it. So how'd he miss this movie that's been on television every year since he was born?
Neil Drumming
I really-- I feel like the Christmas movies that I love are the movies with Christmas in the background, like all British movies. But, like, Love Actually, or Die Hard, or like-- movies with Christmas in that background, Christmas in the foreground-- like, I've never seen the one with the little kid with the glasses?
Emanuele Berry
A Christmas Story?
Neil Drumming
Yeah. But, like, the movies that are just Christmas-- I just didn't have an inclination to see them. I think it's because Christmas, for me, was always in the background. Like, I was a Jehovah's Witness, so Christmas was like a thing that happened around me.
Emanuele Berry
No Christmas tree, no Christmas carols, no Christmas movies. Given that--
Emanuele Berry
what is your favorite Christmas movie-- Christmas-in-the-background movie, I guess, is what we're calling them.
Neil Drumming
I think Die Hard is clearly my favorite Christmas movie. I mean, I hate to be so traditional, like, as a male--
Emanuele Berry
(LAUGHING) So traditional.
Neil Drumming
I mean, because a lot of men-- a lot of people-- a lot of men will say that Die Hard is their favorite Christmas movie. It is--
Emanuele Berry
Is it just your favorite movie?
Neil Drumming
It is in my top 5, consistently.
Emanuele Berry
Neil, you see, is a classic example of the problem. I think there's a world of people out there who haven't seen It's a Wonderful Life, because their impression is it's just some corny Hallmark-y movie. Weirdly, I think the most popular Christmas movie out there is also somehow the most underrated by people like Neil.
To be upfront about this-- I love It's a Wonderful Life. I love the romance of it, the darkness, the humor. I love Jimmy Stewart, the lead actor, and his bumbling charm. Zuzu's petals, the broken banister-- I love it all.
It's not just my favorite Christmas film. It's my favorite film. And I want Neil to see what I see.
Emanuele Berry
What do you know about It's a Wonderful Life?
Neil Drumming
It's a Christmas movie, because it happened-- it's always on the air during Christmas.
Emanuele Berry
Mm-hmm.
Neil Drumming
But-- and I know-- I think Macy's is involved or something.
Emanuele Berry
Wrong. Here's what else he thinks he knows. Jimmy Stewart, it's in black and white, and he saw something on Instagram that it's about a person losing everything.
Neil Drumming
Which makes me think it's, like, maybe some kind of, like, yuletide retelling of the Job story?
Emanuele Berry
OK.
Neil Drumming
I don't know. That's a guess.
Emanuele Berry
Another reason It's a Wonderful Life holds a special place in my heart-- the ending of the film actually makes me get a little teary. I'm not a crier. I'm embarrassed by the idea of a film making me cry.
But for lots of people, I think It's a Wonderful Life sneaks up on you.
Emanuele Berry
Do you think you will cry?
Neil Drumming
I mean, I absolutely will not cry. The only movie I can think of that I cried at was, like-- it was a Will Smith movie, where he played, like, a poor father once. I can't remember the name of that movie.
Emanuele Berry
Pursuit of Happiness?
Neil Drumming
Yes, Pursuit of Happiness.
Emanuele Berry
You cried during Pursuit of--
Neil Drumming
Because he had this thing-- he had some long speech about failure as a man, and--
Emanuele Berry
Oh, wow, I think-- I don't know, if-- you might cry, Neil.
Neil Drumming
Yeah, OK. It's-- I mean, OK, that was a few years ago. Let's see if-- if there is a long speech about failing as a man, then maybe I'll cry. Because that's a subject close to my heart.
[LAUGHTER]
Emanuele Berry
We start the film. In case you, like Neil, haven't seen it, the movie is about George Bailey, a bright, goofy, and friendly young man who wants to see the world but keeps getting stuck in his hometown. First, it's a job that keeps him there. His father passes, and he takes his place running the family business.
Then, it's a romance. George meets Mary at a dance where they fall into a pool. And they're forced to walk home in whatever dry clothing they can wrangle together. Mary is in a bathrobe, and George is in a football uniform three sizes too big.
George And Mary
(SINGING) Buffalo gal, can't you come out tonight and dance by--
Emanuele Berry
Neil loves a romcom, a good meet-cute.
George
You know, if it wasn't me talking, I'd say you were the prettiest girl in town.
Mary
Well, why don't you say it?
George
Oh, I don't know. Maybe I will say it.
Neil Drumming
This is hot. It's hot! This is hot!
Emanuele Berry
(LAUGHING) What do you mean?
Neil Drumming
It's hot! This is a hot meet-cute! This is hot!
Emanuele Berry
It's a very good meet-cute.
George
Am I talking too much?
Man
Yes!
[NEIL AND EMANUELE LAUGH]
Why don't you kiss her instead of talking her to death?
George
How's that?
Man
Why don't you kiss her, instead of talking her to death?
Neil Drumming
This is wild sexy. This is amazing to me. This is so hot to me.
[EMANUELE LAUGHS]
Man
Oh! Youth is wasted on the wrong people.
[LAUGHTER]
Emanuele Berry
The chemistry between the two leads on this fateful walk home-- I can tell Neil's at least somewhat sold. George and Mary get married. And just when George is about to get out of town, travel with his wife, there's a bank run.
Then, after that-- a war.
Man
Then came a war.
Emanuele Berry
Each time, he's faced with another obstacle. Restuck, he sticks around, tries to fix it-- until one fateful Christmas Eve. His business is about to go under because of a careless mistake made by one of his employees, but George is the one who will be held responsible. He's lost, feels like he has no place to turn. He goes home. Mary and the kids are decorating for Christmas, and he snaps.
Mary
George, what's wrong?
George
Wrong? Everything's wrong. You call this a happy family? Why do we have to have all these kids?
Neil Drumming
Ooh! Damn!
Emanuele Berry
Not so Merry Christmas-y, is it, Neil?
Neil Drumming
I'm with it. Let's get darker. Let go to see how dark this gets. I'm on board. Let's go darker. This is horrible.
[EMANUELE LAUGHS]
Emanuele Berry
George wishes he'd never been born, and an angel named Clarence makes his wish come true.
Clarence
Is that your wish?
Emanuele Berry
He sees what the town would be like if he didn't exist, and it's horrible-- ruled by money-grubbing robber barons. Nobody has jobs or hope.
Man
What's going on around here?
Emanuele Berry
Neil points out, it's very much like a film he has seen-- Back to the Future. Only then does George realize the impact his life has made and that he, in fact, had a wonderful life. Sorry, I couldn't help myself.
George
Help me, Clarence!
Emanuele Berry
Clarence takes back George's wish. He runs home to his family, and then everyone in town shows up and gives him money so his business will survive.
Man
Very nearly, George! Very nearly. She told some people you were in trouble. They scattered all over town, collecting money. Didn't ask any questions. Just heard George is in trouble and--
George
Well, these--
Man 2
Another run on the bank?
Emanuele Berry
I look over at Neil. No tears. But when the film ends, he tells me that he liked it, and he was surprised by it, and recognized that it was not just a Christmas film.
Neil Drumming
I definitely forgot it was a Christmas movie. I stopped thinking about it as Christmas. It doesn't feel that-- like, that doesn't feel like what it's about. Until they sing.
Emanuele Berry
I thought it was so funny when you were saying at the beginning that you were like, oh, yeah, I like Christmas movies where Christmas is in the background. I was like, yeah, this is one of those films, actually.
Neil Drumming
Yeah, yeah. Even the "Auld Lang Syne" is, to me, a New Year's thing. It's like, the Christmas part-- it doesn't really come back to Christmas. It's not, like, about that.
You know what it's like a lot? It's like Die Hard.
[LAUGHTER]
Emanuele Berry
OK, OK. Say more.
Neil Drumming
OK, they both-- the theme of both of them is to, like-- that things aren't as bad as you think. It's that your life could-- that if you stop and appreciate your life-- not even just appreciate. It's not just that you stop and appreciate your life.
It's that circumstance, dire circumstance, forces you to appreciate your life. So in Die Hard, like, a series of ridiculously absurd terrorist-type events makes it so that he appreciates his marriage and his family more. And he fights to save it. That's what I love about that movie.
That's literally the thing I love the most about that movie is how it is kind of a romantic film. Like, it's like, wait, everything I had was great. I should go back and save it.
And this is that same thing of just, like, in the moment, when things are bad, you can feel like it wasn't worth it. But if you stop and look at it, it's worth saving. It's worth preserving.
It's the end of the year. Like, maybe these kinds of movies are supposed to remind us that, like, amongst all the things you did wrong, there's something-- there's, like-- it's ultimately worth it. I don't know.
But maybe that's a common theme of, like, movies that air at the end of the year. Like, maybe we just want to be reassured, going into the next year, that what we did wasn't completely a waste of time.
Emanuele Berry
At one point while we're talking about the film, Neil asked why I cry at that moment the townspeople come out to support George. And I say, it's nice to think that people might recognize all that you do for them. Neil tells me, maybe that's why I'm emotional-- because I do a lot for other people.
And Neil says maybe that's why he's not so emotional. Because, well, he doesn't. Not news to me. Case in point, what I did for him this Christmas-- gave him the gift of watching It's a Wonderful Life. What he did for me-- got me to watch Die Hard.
Ira Glass
Emanuele Berry is our show's executive editor.
Act Four: Single Bells
Ira Glass
Act Four, Single Bells. Scaachi Koul is celebrating a Christmas first of her own this year, one that she is still puzzling through. Here she is.
Scaachi Koul
My marriage was over by last Christmas, but I didn't notice, because I was having such a nice time. One of my ex's many radiant qualities was how much he liked the holidays-- always in stark contrast to me, a misery gremlin who recently escaped a bog and is allergic to natural sunlight.
I didn't really grow up celebrating Christmas. I was raised Hindu by immigrants who just didn't really care about the holiday. The extent of our decorations was a sparse plastic tree with screwed-in branches that looked like if a spruce had recently been set ablaze. Our family's dedication to the holiday was always cartoonishly pathetic.
But when I met my ex a little over 10 years ago, I realized that being with him meant being with a Christmas person. It was like joining a cult where the belief structure was built around a glazed ham. Being with him meant we bought a real, live tree, year after year, filling our apartment with pine needles that I'd find until we bought the next real, live tree.
"Doesn't it smell great?" he'd say. And I'd reply with, no, because years of cigarette smoking has robbed me of a sense of smell. My ex-husband was practically competitive about gift-giving, always giving me the best gift, the thing I wanted, sometimes even the several things I wanted.
One year, he took me to Cuba. Another year, he bought me a Nintendo console that had been reliably sold out for months. The year after that-- delicate diamond studs for my non-deserving ears. I got him a bag, like, three times. Just three different bags.
I don't know. You seem to need a lot of bags. I don't know what I'm doing out here. OK?
I resented Christmas and his love for it often. We used to fight about how I wanted to go see my family for the holidays, even though there wasn't much of a holiday to speak of, and how he wanted to go back to his sleepy little hometown with a three-car Santa Claus parade, and his stepmother's gingerbread village that the grandchildren bickered over, and the minced sauce with his dad's lamb, and the Christmas brunch with his mother.
I was always fighting against my instincts to hate everything, to be cynical, to ask to be left alone. I didn't like Christmas because it required so much sincerity and emotional intelligence I clearly, obviously, still lack. We separated in February, and he's now off building a life I know nothing about.
I was worried about how he'd do, alone at Christmas. But you know who is alone, in actuality? Me, the Christmas hater. I'm Grinch at the top of the mountain, looking down at the denizens of Whoville, asking in the smallest voice possible, do they miss me down there?
Because though I was always loathe to admit it, I did like so many things about Christmas with his family. I did like how I always felt warm and soft between December 23 and 26, like I was a big, fat baby in a plush blanket. I became comfortable with it. And eventually, I learned to look forward to it.
Christmas with him and his people was the closest to cortisol zero I've ever gotten in my life. My ex-husband's mother and stepmother always told me they loved me on Christmas Day when we exchanged gifts. And I always said it back. I meant it, too-- a rarity for me.
I liked being a daughter-in-law and offering to help with the turkey, even though I have no idea how to cook a turkey. There was comfort in opening the garage door and seeing his cousins piled in there, wearing old Labatt sweaters, chain-smoking, and fighting over who stole whose lighter-- all these 40-something-year-olds reverting to who they were when they were 17. My ex grew up somewhere without the pollution of a big city, so you could always see the stars. I wish I had spent more time looking at them.
To marry into a family that loves Christmas is to be conscripted into something that feels pleasingly conspiratorial. You know exactly what you need to do, and where, and for whom. The days pass and inch you closer to December 24, and you have a precise awareness of what's expected of and for you.
And when the holiday is done, you have all these little secrets to whisper to each other in delight. "Remember that year my mom put brown sugar in the eggs she made for Christmas Day brunch?" my husband would whisper into my mouth while we lay in bed, after we returned to our lives in New York, to the albatross that increasingly was our marriage.
I'd laugh and say, "Yes, but we ate it. Because we love her, and we love each other, right? We love each other. Say it one more time, just so I'm sure that you're sure."
Now, all I feel is this constant twinge in my gut. It's like having a tail cut off. I wasn't supposed to even have one. But I did for a while. And now, I don't.
I thought about spending Christmas alone this year. I could do something devastating and romantic, like take myself on a solo vacation, maybe somewhere sunny, where I'd swan around in drapey fabric and look sad and hot and sad. Maybe at a resort.
Everyone there would think I had a secret. But the secret is, I'm sad. Instead, on both hands, I count the people I won't speak to this December. His folks, his siblings, his nieces and nephews, the cousin of his that was my favorite, the other cousin of his who always spent too much time touching my lower back, his aunt, who always called me Sasha, even 10 years in.
I'll add this pain to the several others that hardened me from the inside-out. The first year of divorce is just a march of agonies. Every notable event-- the first one you do by yourself. First birthday where we don't even speak, first family medical crisis where we don't cling to each other like driftwood in a tsunami, and now, our first Christmas apart.
My grief around my divorce remains wildly unpredictable. I don't have any strategy or plan on how to cope with the holidays. I just have to walk through a TJ Maxx and glare at the Christmas display and how I have no use for a Santa Claus cookie jar. I never did, but now, I really don't.
In the end, I decided to just go home this year and lick my wounds amongst my own family. My 12-year-old niece and sister-in-law celebrate Christmas with glee. There are cookies to be iced, and an embarrassment of riches under the tree, and a fireplace, and a mini dachshund named Beans, who will gladly snap a hunk of turkey off of your fork.
Even my dad enjoys Christmas, if forced. He will never say no to a slice of pecan pie after a dinner that he complains does not have enough masala. I could conceivably find pleasure in this holiday again if I worked at it. But I don't want to right now.
It's not that I like or dislike the holiday. It's simply that now it hurts my feelings. I crave nothing more than indifference, to view Christmas as but another holiday that isn't mine-- Easter, Hanukkah, Eid. You won't see me crying over Casimir Pulaski Day.
For the last year, everything has felt either triumphant or devastating. And it would be nice to feel, instead, nothing at all.
Ira Glass
Scaachi Cole is the author of One Day We'll All Be Dead and None of This Will Matter, and a cultural reporter at BuzzFeed News. Her story was produced by Diane Wu.
Credits
Ira Glass
Our program was produced today with holiday spirit by Sean Cole. The people who put together today's program include Jane Ackermann, Bim Adewunmi, Michal Comite, Aviva DeKornfeld, Cassie Howley, Valerie Kipnis, Stowe Nelson, Katherine Rae Mondo, Nadia Reiman, Ryan Rumery, Alissa Shipp, Christopher Swetala, Matt Tierney, and Diane Wu.
Our managing editor is Sarah Abdurrahman, and our senior editor is David Kestenbaum. Our executive editor is Emanuele Berry. Special thanks today to Larry Weissman, a.k.a. DJ PreSkool, Rachael Albert, Ben Levine, Phoenix Henkle, and Majestic Retail in Redlands, California, where we recorded Santa Allen.
Our website-- thisamericanlife.org, where you can stream our archive. That's over 750 episodes for absolutely free. Also, there's videos. There's lists of favorite episodes. There's tons of other stuff there. Again, thisamericanlife.org.
This American Life is delivered to public radio stations by PRX, The Public Radio Exchange. Thanks as always to our program's co-founder, Mr. Torey Malatia. You know, he came into my office this week and spent, like, I don't know, 25 minutes working on the settings on my web browser. I really had no idea what he was doing.
Finally, he turns to me, triumphant, and declares--
Alex Edelman
The cookies are gone!
Ira Glass
I'm Ira Glass. Merry Christmas. Happy holiday. Back next week with more stories on This American Life.