Every year at this time, the strangest of things starts happening. Normally rational people, people who spend all their lives living completely sane lives, start saying the most ridiculous things imaginable. The same thing happens on Valentine’s Day.

 

“Love?” they say bitterly, “what’s love?” They look at every heartbreak, every missed opportunity for romance, and they decide that love is bunk. There’s no such thing as love. It’s just a biological reaction, a chemical process designed to perpetuate our species.

 

Like I said, it’s ridiculous.

 

Well, the same thing happens at Christmas, except with people questioning Santa instead of love. Why? Because sad things happen, and when they happen on Christmas, or on Valentine’s Day, they seem especially harsh. All that joy and excitement can turn to bitterness and cynicism.

 

Sometimes, it’s easier to say there’s no such thing as love, than to face losing it. Other times, it may seem easier to say there’s no such thing as Santa, rather than face a sad Christmas all alone.

 

Unfortunately, these crazy thoughts are contagious. The overheard mumblings of one dejected man can sound like a Greater Truth in the ears of a child.

 

So let me set the record straight regarding both Santa and Love: they’re real.

 

For this article, I’m going to stick to Santa. If you want help with love, talk to someone else. I’m no expert there. I am, however, an expert on Santa.

 

My first moment of truth came when I was a little guy, wondering why my parents didn’t get many presents from Santa. As most kids do, I sought out another kid to find the truth. In this case, it was my older sister Helene.

 

Helene explained that Santa is all about kids. Sure, he gets presents for adults occasionally, but for the most part, he focuses on kids. Then she told me something I’ve never forgotten: Santa is always looking for helpers.

 

It was like having a light switched on in a dark room. Santa likes helpers. That year, when we were shopping, I snuck away and found presents for my parents. I wrapped them as carefully as I could, and I labeled them as being from Santa.

 

That Christmas was amazing. Seeing someone else open a present that you picked out for Santa is the kind of experience that simply can’t be put into words. You just have to try it.

 

You know what else? The next year, Santa was nicer to me than he’d ever been before. That was it. I was hired, and I’ve been working for him ever since.

 

I’m not the only one, either. There are millions of us around the world, all doing the best we can to help the big guy out. Imagine a secret society that spans the globe, all dedicated to making children (and occasionally adults) smile. That’s us.

 

Don’t believe me? Go to the mall and look around. See the people smiling and laughing? That’s us. We’re the ones that don’t mind the crowds or the traffic, the ones that can’t quite stop singing along to the Christmas music, the ones stopping to appreciate the giant Christmas trees and the huge displays of candy. We’re all working for Santa.

 

Still don’t believe he’s real? Okay. That’s your choice. You can decide that Christmas is a big lie, that nobody deserves an extra present or two. You can sit at home, chewing on your overcooked turkey and glaring at the television.

 

Instead, though, how about you join us? It’s fun and easy, and once you start, you won’t be able to stop.

 

That’s the other thing I need to tell you about Santa. He’s always looking for more helpers.