Santa's next generation steps up

Santa faces his own health issues and the potential need to retire

         “Christopher, I’ve been telling you for a number of years now – you need to retire.”

         “I will, Ethan… one of these days…”

         “The question, Christopher, is whether you’ll do it on your own or if you’ll keel over dead first.” Seeing the shock in his patient’s eyes, he added, “yes, my friend, you’re that close. That heart attack was a doozy. And I know you don’t want to hear this… but you’re not going to be out of here until mid January.”

         “Are you sure, Ethan? Isn’t there something you can do, like you have in the past? Christmas is coming! I have duties –”

         “And every time I’ve sped up the healing process, Christopher, I’ve told you there would be effects down the road. Well, that road has been traveled. One of the reasons you’re in here now is because of all the ‘speed healing’ we’ve done over the years so you can fulfill your various duties. But not this time; your heart can’t handle the stress now.” Sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, the doctor took the hand of his friend of over 40 years and said, “even with all the ‘magic’ and expertise we have up here… you have to face the fact that Santa is still mortal.”

         “I know, Ethan,” the patient sighed. “And yes, my retirement is coming soon – maybe sooner than I’d like. But who will take my place? Especially now, with only two weeks until Christmas? I have to get out of here, Ethan! There’s no other choice! Can’t you see that –”

         “What I see, Christopher, is if you try and get out of here before mid January, we’ll be carting you over to the cemetery to join Maureen. Is that what you want?” Santa wanted to look his friend / doctor in the eye, but couldn’t. The loneliness of life at the North Pole without “Mrs. Claus” had weighed heavily on him for over two years. Enough so that in some moments of despair, he’d thought about trying to join his beloved in the afterlife. Yet the mission of The Pole kept tugging at him, in some ways not letting him deal with the demons of his grief.

         “Look, Christopher, I’m not going to say something silly like you have to cancel Christmas. We both know that will never happen, in spite of all the cartoons and movies that used that as a plot thread. But you will need to find a replacement someday – and for this year, find another option. Now, the kids want to see you, so I’ll step out. But think about what I’ve said.”

         “I will, Ethan.” In his mind, and even his heart, Christopher Kringle VII knew that his doctor was right on multiple counts. By all rights, he should have retired over five years ago, but he had put off finding a successor because he didn’t want to give up one of the world’s greatest identities. And now, he was doing the job partly to run away from the grief of losing his wife.

         As the doctor left the room, two of the things that kept Christopher going came in – Kris and Noel, his two children. The two greatest lights in his life after his beloved Maureen, Christopher knew they would be his best counselors. They knew they were the future of The Pole, and took it seriously. At one point, Noel would have been the automatic successor to his father – until fate intervened.

         “Hey, pop,” 30-year-old Noel said as he moved his “wheeled companion” of 15 years next to his father’s bedside. “Are you finally going to take it easy for a while? I’m not ready to lose you, and neither is Kris here.”

         “The doc just gave me a similar lecture. Did Ethan put you up to talking about retiring?” In his mind, Christopher marveled at the peaceful look on his son’s face, remembering how it had been a mask of anger the entire first year and then some that he’d spent in the wheelchair. Anger at fate, anger at his father for taking him on a vacation he didn’t want to go on only to be struck by a drunk driver, anger at the doctors both in Miami and at The Pole who hadn’t been able to get him to walk again due to his severed spine. Despite the fear for his father’s health, Christopher also saw the resolve that had grown out of Noel’s accident to be whatever he could from within that wheelchair – and it pleased the father to no end.

         “He didn’t need to,” Kris piped up from the chair next to her brother. “We’ve already been telling you that since before mom passed away. Not to mention I’ve seen what it takes for you to recover in the first few hours after a ‘rejuvenation’ session. Dad…” Leaning over to take his hand, Kris’s voice dropped as she said, “Dad, you really do need to think about retiring now. And don’t even talk to me about doing a ‘treatment’ so you can try to make your deliveries in a few weeks. I won’t hear of it.”

         “Neither will Ethan,” Chris Kringle sighed. “So we all know that won’t happen. Which brings us to the first, biggest dilemma – how do we make the deliveries this year? We can’t call on the Time Shepherds to help us; they made it clear ages ago when they provided us with the time-warping technology, they wouldn’t step in for us. Help us with upgrades, sure, but they won’t fly the mission. Is there anybody in the village that can step in on short notice?”

         “Not with enough experience with the equipment,” Noel replied. Contrary to popular belief, it wasn’t just Mr. and Mrs. Claus and the elves who lived at the North Pole. There was a substantial community of “normal humans” there too, all descendants of prior wearers of the red suit. They were also the first pool of people to choose a replacement from when Santa was forced to retire.

         Not all Santas came from this group, however. When a suitable replacement couldn’t be found, it was time to recruit from the outside. The recruits had to be of good character, be good with kids (for the many times they would appear in a mall around the world), and one other major requirement – they had to be single, with no immediate family if at all possible. Married men were automatically ruled out. What good was it, after all, to destroy a family in order to create the next Santa Claus?

         That was how Christopher Robert Colfax came to The Pole. A retired U. S. Army helicopter pilot, he had been widowed during his service in the 1960’s. He filled the void from lack of children in his life by playing Santa at Christmas, and performing as a clown during other times of the year, including safety presentations at the elementary schools in his hometown of Pueblo, CO. His actions had always been above reproach. He was everything The Pole was looking for in a replacement, despite health issues from chemical exposure while flying helicopters in Vietnam, and his flying experience was an added bonus.

         To say that Chris Colfax was skeptical at first was well to the right of an understatement. Of course, everyone knew that Santa Claus was a fairy tale, that he didn’t really exist. Being told he could be the real Santa for years to come was a little too much to believe.

         But he was unhappy with his life – the Army no longer needed him after Vietnam, and civilian flying jobs were scarce. And the joy he got from playing a clown or Santa faded quickly once the costume came off, leaving him alone in his bungalow with a few pictures of his late wife and the associated memories. So he told his recruiters he needed “proof” of what they were talking about. Two days later, he arrived at The Pole… and except for one last trip to tidy up some (but not all) of his affairs, never left. The trip ended with his “death” in a motorcycle accident, cleverly arranged by the staffers at The Pole so that no one else came close to being injured. And thus Christopher Robert Colfax became Christopher Kringle VII.

         It’s been a good life, he thought while looking upon his children. Despite the tragedies I’ve seen around the world… that I’ve seen and felt here… it’s been a good life, even a great one. But it’s time for me to pass the suit on to someone else. And what about this year?

         Thinking about this, he looked at his 27-year-old daughter. Kristina “Kris” Kringle had been a stellar student, just like her brother. Between them, they had taken the equipment provided by the Time Shepherds and improved upon it. She had been the one to figure out how to adapt their time-dilating machines into a form of propulsion for the sled, taking the strain off of the reindeer. For the last three years, in fact, they’d gone without the beasts, giving them a well-deserved retirement except for the odd publicity showing (to which they always arrived in a custom-made animal transport trailer instead of actually flying in themselves). And for the last three years, Kris had been his mission copilot.

         “Dad… Noel and I have been doing a little planning and computing.” That wasn’t news to Santa; since his 21st birthday, Noel had been involved in Mission Planning for The Big Night, and had been the lead planner the last four years. And Kris had applied her talents both to the engineering of the sled and the logistics of delivering all the packages to the right locations around the world. “We still need a little time to iron out the details… but we think – or at least, I think – I can fly the mission.”

         “I hope you haven’t been out joyriding in the sled again!”

         “Not joyriding, no, dad. But I have taken her up on some practice flights, and we need to test the modifications, after all. And Brandon can act as my engineer on the flight.” Brandon was Brandon McCall, a third-generation North Polian that the current Santa had been weighing as a possible replacement. He had excelled in his studies almost as much as Noel and Kris, had been in the engineering department for some years, and was a prime candidate among those living in the village. Knowing all of this, Kris added, “If he’s going to fill your suit, dad, shouldn’t he get a taste of it first?”

         “My daughter… my son,” Santa said wistfully. “Did your mother teach you how to wrap me around your fingers?” A tear came to his eye as the kids chuckled, for their laughter was like that of their late mother’s. “Okay, go ahead. But you make sure you’re extra careful in all the planning. I want you to come back to me!”

         Two weeks later, Kris Kringle pressed a button on her control stick. “North Pole Control, Red Sled One. Request taxi clearance.”

         “Red Sled One, control,” Came the voice of her brother on her headset. “Clear to taxi to launch position. Hold there for launch clearance.” Hearing all of this, the ground crew opened the hangar doors. Nudging the throttles slightly, Kris maneuvered the sled into the swirling snow and down to the launch position.

         “Control, Red Sled One. Launch position, awaiting final clearance.”

         “Copy Red Sled One.”

         “Dad!”

         “You think I’d let you fly off without a good luck wish? Red Sled One, you are go for launch, flight plan approved.”

         Taking a moment to dry her eyes, Kris Kringle pushed the throttles full forward. “Red Sled One, rolling.” As they lifted off, her engineer activated the time warping systems that would let them yet again fulfill the family’s one-night mission.


Word Count -- 1984