CITY VOICES
FIRST PERSON
A visit from Old St. Nick (2019) JOE FUSCO JR.
“Don’t eat the yellow snow,” and “Abstinence makes the hand grow stronger.” “Why isn’t Santa’s belly round,” my four-year-old grandson inquired. “Santa had a good square meal with the elves before he jumped in the sleigh,” I punned. When the children and their incessant requests ended, many of the adults adjourned to the family room to watch the Patriots game. Mrs. Claus sauntered over and sat in Santa’s lap. “Thanks for doing that. What’s sticking in my back?” “The North Pole,” I smiled. Then Old St. Nick rose from the leather chair and trudged back to the bathroom. “Merry Xmas to all … and to all a Good Nap!” Joe Fusco Jr. is a poet and humorist living in Worcester.
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WORCESTERMAGAZINE.COM
D E C E M B E R 10 - 16, 2020
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one of the younger males would dress up as Santa at the Family Xmas Party so I volunteered. A decision I immediately regretted. My sister-in-law had put the black boots, red costume, white beard, and a square pillow in a cardboard box by the toilet. With my chronic ailments, it took almost twenty minutes to be in full regalia. Adjusting the rose-tinted glasses, I caught a blurry glimpse of my sweaty reflection in the bathroom mirror. “Old St. Nick,” I grimaced. There was a large Xmas bell in the box, so I grabbed the sack of toys, left the bathroom, and shook the Xmas bell to announce Santa’s arrival. The bell fell apart and crumbled to the living-room floor. “Ho, Ho, Ho, who’s breaking Santa’s bells,” I chuckled. There was a leather chair set up by the Xmas tree where our family’s children could sit on Santa’s lap, receive their present, and converse with St. Nick just by following a few simple guidelines: “You can’t sit on Santa’s left knee (upper-tendon repair 2011), watch out for his right hip (replaced 2012), and please don’t squeeze his right shoulder (rotator-cuff surgery 2015),” Mrs. Claus (my wife Cyndi ) explained.
Playing Santa isn’t a job for just anybody! I needed to replace the rose-tinted spectacles with my bi-focal to read the tags on the presents. “Why does Santa have Grandpa’s glasses on,” my six-year-old grand-daughter asked. “Grandpa and Santa have the same optometrist,” I countered. Things went relatively smooth though I was clueless on most of the gadgets, games, and paraphernalia that my exuberant
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patrons pleaded for. Santa also whispered sound advice in their
innocent ears like “Listen to your parents when they’re sober,”
