Tomorrow late morning could be very ugly or a great big nothing-burger. However, regardless of what transpires, HoCo did the right thing. Below is the testament from the New York Sun editorial writer, Francis Pharcellus Church, who wrote this piece 125 years ago when questioned by a young girl as a result of the skepticism of her peers, but had the courage to seek her own path.
“Virginia, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men’s or children’s, are little. In this great universe of ours man (and one day’s course in math or history or science or English) is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole truth and knowledge.
Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! How dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus! It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.
Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that’s no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.
You tear apart the baby’s rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.
No Santa Claus! Thank God he lives and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay 10 times 10 thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.”
Merry holidays to all.
The Weather Mill 
Bob,
Your post recounting the letter to Virginia further cements my opinion that you truly are a kid at heart. Well done.
It also reminds me of two years ago when my daughter was ten-years old, and Christmas was fast approaching. We were all huddled in our homes entrenched in virtual teaching (my wife is a teacher too) and learning. I was in my basement classroom sitting through a never-attended post-class HCPSS mandated “tutorial” before lunch when my wife texts me, “Jana is mad. Someone told her about Santa.” I braced myself and waited the remaining eight minutes of tutorial to muster the courage to tell her what I had dreaded to tell her for many years.
I walked into her room and there she sat, clutching her “baby” stuffed frog/blanket in her bean bag chair beneath her loft bed. Scowling. I pulled a small chair before her and squatted down to face her, my knees jutting up.
“You think Mommy and I lied to you, don’t you?”
She just scowled and wrapped her folded arms around her chest a little tighter.
“Well, we did. We did lie to you. We’ve been lying to you your whole life. There is no Santa Claus,” I said bluntly.
She looked at me with amazement, but her brows still furrowed.
“Yup, there is no Santa Claus. There are millions of them. I’m Santa Claus. Mommy is Santa Claus. Grammy, Papa, Grandma, Pap pap, we’re all Santa Claus. Because Santa Claus is love. Santa Claus is giving. You have so many Santa Clauses in your life. There is no single Santa Claus.”
At this point, tears began to well in her blue, blue eyes.
“The world is full of Santa Clauses every time someone loves. Every time someone gives.”
Tears began to stream down her face, and her scowl left.
I reminded her that the Santa Claus who visited our home every Christmas Eve before our traditional dinner with the grandparents was actually my father, her Pap pap.
“Pap pap loved you so much he changed into a Santa suit, wig, and beard in the garage, sometimes in frigid temperatures. He was out there in the cold in his underwear! Why? Because he loves you.”
“That was Pap pap?” retorted Jana. “I thought you just grabbed some random guy off the street!”
We laughed, and I thought to myself how she came to that conclusion when we live in Glenelg where there are very few random people walking anywhere because we have no sidewalks or streetlights.
So, thank you, Bob, for sharing Church’s piece and reminding me of that moment with my not-so-little-anymore girl.
Merry Christmas.
John Sharbaugh English Teacher Centennial High School Definitely not the Carnival King but knows him very well
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I love this story!!
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Merry Christmas!
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