Santa — or rather my friend who portrays him — instantly “married” me as he came into view.
I happened to be waiting for him by the trailers of Holy Trinity Church Inwood, the church’s temporary headquarters during renovations. I could just see the white beard and the top of his cap bobbing along near Academy Street here in Upper Manhattan.
My friend’s son, dressed as an elf, bobbed along beside him. So not only was I matched with a text-to-order spouse, I now had a 9-year-old son who was trying to keep up with his much taller dad.
I had always wanted a child! How lovely not to go through the birthing process or have to worry about this sweet boy’s dental care or college fund.
With six feet between us, Santa and I waved, solidifying our social bubble in the changeable land of COVID-19.
My friend had donned a red suit with white trim. And I wore an Edwardian-inspired walking suit with a green waistcoat and a long red skirt striped down the front with sequin panels of red, green, and gold.
“Merry Christmas!” my new son and hubby called to me.
“Merry Christmas!” I shouted back.
All three of us wore masks.
My cell phone marked the time as 4:45 PM. Now a ready-made family of three, we were running late. I hate being late. Then I reminded myself of our very loose plans. We were to walk up Broadway to wish business owners a Merry Christmas. This would be a goofy surprise, not a sanctioned event.
During the pandemic, there was no hurry because there was nowhere to go. Here in New York City, indoor dining was suspended to prevent the spread of the coronavirus. The vibrant neighborhood had put on an ill-fitting coat of stillness.
Four Decembers ago, I had gotten the idea to become Mrs. Claus for a RING Garden tree lighting. The organizers were good-natured enough to say “yes,” even though they had no idea what to do with Santa’s wife as a party guest. I had no idea myself.
As a 40-something-year-old former dancer, I thought it would be fun to have a seasonal performing gig. Male actor friends put on the red suit each year, and I wanted to “fly” like them, even if going airborne was only pretend. Becoming a Claus would give me performing opportunities I could grow into as I aged. With my type-A personality, I took my interest to the next level.
I graduated from Charles W. Howard Santa Claus School in 2018. I became the founding president of the New York City Santas in February 2020, when “coronavirus” was just crazy talk instead of a real threat that would affect the entire human race.
Santa, our son, and I passed the outdoor porches of the Dyckman Street restaurants. “Merry Christmas!” Cameras came out of bags. A few customers got up from their tables to snap selfies (elfies).
