Christmas stories from New Jersey; An expat recalls tricks of the trade of putting smiles on kids’ faces

By Richard Westcott

Squeak
I traditionally passed my Christmas Eve making the rounds of various family homes throughout Central and Southern New Jersey. One family had an unusual mix of children ranging from toddlers to teens. This was because they had gathered at the home of their grandparents. The older boys unwrapped tickets to a hockey game. The youngest had adamantly refused to sit on my lap for a visit. He was handed his gift and he took his little red, wet face and went to the couch and unwrapped it. That was going to be the extent of his visit from Santa.

Rich and his little friends.

When my visit was over, I was preparing to leave when I noticed that the three-year-old was playing by himself on the couch with a fire truck almost as big as he was. I loudly professed my admiration for his cool truck and sat down next to him on the couch. Fear gone, he had stuff that others admired now so he proudly showed it to me. (Possessions are extremely important to the very young; they see grown-ups just going out and getting what they want and they can’t do that.) They had no concept of money or earning it.

I carried with me something that clowns often use, a small inflated piece of plastic that, when pressed, gave out a loud squeak. I would squeak my ponytail, my beard, my inner ear and more for the child; they loved it! This child watched for a while, got up, walked over to an aunt sitting on the floor and pressed his finger against the mole on his aunt’s cheek and tried to make it squeak.

A pediatrician friend of mine liked to do magic and incorporated it into his examinations of his small patients. He did not perform publicly and when a parent asked him about a magic show he would refer them to me or another magician he knew. The squeaker got plenty of use in his office. One day he got verbally stabbed to the heart when the mother he referred me to asked him how much her child’s 50,000 mile check up would have been without the magic.

Santa Claus is coming to town.

I saw some interesting footage of a doctor giving an injection to a toddler. With the needle capped, the doctor would poke and tickle the child for a while with it and then give him the injection. The child did not even notice!

Among my Christmas Eve home visits as Santa I happened to find myself visiting several families in the Toms River area. Since this is where a good friend lived, I stopped there as well while T, my friend’s grandson, was at his grandparents home on Christmas Eve for a visit.

Now, within the same family were two sisters who had birthdays in January and February. I usually made an appearance at the Summertime family picnic as well. As years went on, the children began to wonder about those birthday parties throughout the year where Santa came back for the parties with a different color hair and did shows for them. In January when I changed my hair back it was so dry you almost hear the hair sucking up the dye. Strange, wondering looks were cast my way. I’m sure that, when T told his friends that Santa would visit him on Christmas Eve every year he was met with derision. This may have led to the following.

Santa doesn’t exist?
One year when I stopped at my friend’s home, I found that instead of just his grandson there were two or three cousins in attendance as well. Normally it would just be T, but this time there were witnesses.

Rich as a pirate

T was about eight years old at the time. I don’t know if it was bravado due to the audience or what, but he had proclaimed there was no Santa. When asked what he wanted for Christmas he had said, ”A lump of coal and a can of Coke”. My friend met me outside with the gifts Santa was delivering so they could be loaded into his bag. He explained the unusual request to me and gave me a gift-wrapped lump of coal as well as a can of Coke for his grandson.

Since they were his guests, gift- giving began with T’s cousins. They all received their gifts, opened them and proudly displayed their loot. When T opened his gift, a shadow passed over his face and his smile of anticipation faded. Saying nothing he put the lid back on the box and would not show it to his cousins. When he was handed the can of Coke you could read the expression clearly on his face that said, “My God, what have I done, I just blew Christmas.” Eventually the outcry from his cousins got to him and he had to show the lump of coal to his cousins.

Finally, we ended the torture with the distribution of gifts for all.

A special Christmas Eve
I knew Z from her job as a cashier at the supermarket I was working at. A Russian immigrant, she had a different work ethic than the other cashiers. This failed to win her friends among her coworkers.

She had heard about my Christmas visits and asked me to stop by her family’s home to help celebrate a special Christmas Eve. It seems her mom was to get engaged that night and I was to bring the ring in with me.

There were gifts for everyone but, without a box, loose in the bag with the other gifts, the engagement ring was unseen and unfelt. I handed out all the wrapped gifts and, thinking I was done, I said goodbye, took my fee, and walked out the door. My friend came running after me. I had taken the engagement ring with me. Loose in the bag, it was easy to miss.

Pity, It would have made a great tip.
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Rich Westcott is a Cuenca expat who has spent much of his life entertaining children in the U.S. and Ecuador.