Dear Santa, and readers,
Do you even remember me? I sat upon your knee as a child, … uh oh, I might be stealing the words of Amy Grant’s “Grown Up Christmas List”, but I don’t know if you remember me at all. Maybe I never wrote a single letter as a kid, but as an adult, I’ve been thinking long and hard about what Christmas really means. For one, don’t tell me it’s about the Christ child. Sure, it might be about the Madonna and child, but it can’t be even celebrated on December 25 because well, if you ask me, Jesus still had patriarchal values of women. As a woman, I feel that God didn’t merely friend me as the TV show suggested, he rather threw me out to the wolves. I’m hardly punctuating my commas in the right place, forgive me. However, I think some people don’t realize that when you write and create things, and if it’s something deep within one’s heart, the commas, periods, and perhaps semicolons don’t come out right sometimes.
Okay, to the heart of the matter. I’m writing you not to request gifts. Not requesting gifts? Well, I live in a low income housing arrangement with my fiance, Trenton, and we’re two different people. I really don’t want to live in this awful arrangement. Believe me, the reindeeer hooves would probably cause a crack in the fragile roofing of this building, and our management would gawk and squeal like little mice running around a trap if they found big giant live reindeer like yours on the roof. There is perhaps a chimney, but I don’t know. They had a fireplace in the big common community room. But Santa, the things I really want for Christmas aren’t little, and honestly, they’re big enough for you to gawk at me. But I want something that I can use long term, not just a short term fix to the matter. Toys, for instance, are a short term matter, for children want more of them all the time. As an adult, I have no children. I have no wedding ring on my finger either.
For one thing, I want a house for Christmas. I want a wedding gown that fits, no altering needed. I want you to send some coal to the people who refuse to support my wedding to Trenton or who have treated me disrespectfully because, as Jesus said firmly, “Whatsoever you do to the least of my people, you do so unto me.” I also want coal in the stockings of the sighted who wish me not to have a child, and coal in the stockings of those who preyed upon my disability for their benefits. But to my fiance, give him a gold ring, a wedding ring, something special that he can cherish.
Enough with the folks I think should be on the naughty list, but I had to give you a few pointers, you know everything. In any case, for me, I want nothing more than to have a bigger living space, a chimney, or a house without a chimney. Who cares. I think fireplaces are too much, and your magic should get you through any roof. Oh, and I want reddish gold paint on my walls, a reddish gold finish on an upright piano, and reddish gold silverware. I want my dishes to match the table and a red tablecloth. I want a stove that I can use to cook, having full control of the time and temperature and being able to connect to WiFi and be able to tell the stove what to do with my voice. I want a few bedrooms, furnished on the top. How about we add two small kids in the beds dreaming about their toys in the morning? How about sleigh bells of my own, so I can recreate the magic of Christmas any time? And one day, my son or daughter may ask me for a drum set or a guitar, no matter what gender. I would love to be able to leave milk and cookies for you in the kitchen as was tradition but since most of the people here are old, I think we’ve all lost the spirit of Christmas somewhere. I’d like to follow your trip on Norad, but what’s the point? I don’t live in a proper house, don’t have children who pester me to take them to see you at the mall, or a stupid elf costume. I’d love al of these things, but to add to the giant cake of things I must have so that social services doesn’t try to rip my family apart, I want my Trenton to have something long term for Christmas. Like a job, something that would get us out of the rut.
I want to be hirable, perhaps open my own music productions business, but can’t get the equipment necessary to do things because being blind, certain things work better than other things due to my vision assistive technology and such. I can’t turn to Department of Vocational Rehabilitation for a single thing, and their concern is putting me in a sweatshop for $0.02 a freaking hour.
What I want is meaningful employment, something that doesn’t tax too much, a health insurance plan that will cover pregnancy and birth and other healthcare needs, and these are needs not wants. I want music at my wedding, a housewarming party, etc.
And for the sake of things, bring rapper Esoteric Quality’s child plenty of toys to play with, things that don’t break so easily. Bring him and his child together, so they can spend Christmas together again, like fathers should be doing anyway. Let Clayton, that’s his real name, see his kid again. And remember the people I said need a bit of coal in their socks, or under the tree, perhaps more? I would love to see the mother’s reaction when Clayton calls her up, and she goes, “Why? Why did I get coal for not letting you see your little child?” For her sake, I know what I’m doing, but for her sake, what about the dollhouse that some six-year-old accidentally ordered? Maybe this little girl should get the doll’s house, that way she can play around like other kids, put dolls in it, and later on, she can pass it down to her kid. The trick is having one.
And there’s one more thing I want to see. Put a giant rock in Donald Trump’s socks, for me lied to the people and misbehaved big time. I hope you put Donald on the naughty list for lying and messing with porn stars, but for another thing, for canceling Christmas parties at the white house. Give the Bushes their gifts, and give Noelle Bush the gift of Christmas futures, with her therapist possiibly helping her grieve her grandfather. Give Jenna Bush Haggert a laptop she can write her articles on, perhaps the biggest and best laptop ever. And god bless Je Bush. If only he knew what I was talking about. In any case, I want the world to be a lot more peaceable, fair, equitable, and just. If anything, Mr. Claus, you should know that Trenton and I have practically nothing for Christmas. I want to buy another pack of cookies and try baking them in any case. Also, I think it best to say that if we had the house, the reddish gold finishes, and all the furnishings we need, and this isn’t a want, we’d be able to paint the nurseries, put toys in a playroom, house guests, and so on. I don’t want my sight because I have never darn had it. But I do want a neighborhood I can take my children walking in, should I choose to have kids at all. I want Trenton not to have to use paratransit systems, something I don’t think your elves and reindeer are familiar with, but we need things like Scoot, Lyft, and Uber which would pay for Trenton’s work or my work, and I’d be doing various things while Trenton or myself is at work. Of course, I’d start the dinner, and the floor would not be wood. I’d rather have laminate linoleum, so that it’s easier to clean. That or tile. Whatever we get, we are happy with.
Mr. Claus, if you see this written here in a blog, I’m sure you will think this is way too big for you. But please understand that just because I’m in my early thirties, no child, no husband, that doesn’t mean Christmas isn’t for me or the man I love. Esoteric Quality is a good friend of mine, and I’d do anything for him. Just one more last tiny thing: take Ariana Grande for a ride in your sleigh, and drop her off at Esoteric Quality’s apartment, and let her wear a red bow in her hair, and let her sit in the kitchen whie he cooks breakfast. He wants this really really bad this Christmas, and perhaps Britney Spears could help me with that, as she has recorded a song about wanting a significant other for Christmas.
Thank you for taking the time to digest this incredibly long letter. Think over it, and I look forward to the results. Just make sure the elves are at work, keep those little guys happy, and don’t forget to eed the reindeers. I’ll leave some reindeer food out on my new back porch when you arrive.
P.S. Merry Christmas to all my readers. If you’d like to join me and the choir in concert, and you’re in the Denver area, let me know and I’ll give you ticket prices.