Letters to Santa

November 2023

This month we asked the students to write on the
old tradition of writing letters to Santa

Letters to Santa

Gracie Smith
MSMU Class of 2027

The tradition of writing letters to Santa has been around for generations; however, it wasn’t always children doing the writing. The practice began quite contrary to what we are accustomed to today. It first began with Santa writing letters to children to encourage them to behave throughout the year. In return for the good behavior, Santa would reward them with gifts on Christmas day. Not only did this establish the idea of the infamous naughty and nice list, but it began a tradition that would be carried out for centuries. Over time, children began writing letters back to Santa describing what they wanted for Christmas as a reward for their good behavior, being the little negotiators they are. With this lovely letter conversing, the tradition was born—Letters to Santa.

Children throughout the years have written, asking for many things. From the latest Barbie doll to the coolest Lego set, children have never failed to demand their rewards for good behavior. Nevertheless, children are not the only ones to write to Santa. Teenagers, young adults, adults, and seniors also write to Kris Kringle. While this may come off as immature, the idea of expressing what it is you most desire creates the sweetest and most delicate sense of hope. The opportunity to ask for something that can be either realistic or bazaar excites us, and further allows us to feel an innocent sort of greed. Besides, they say there is a childish part in all of us, right?

I believe it’s essential that every child has the experience of writing to Santa and receiving the gift they wished for, at least once. While there are thousands of children who are less fortunate than me, I yearn that each one of those children still writes to Santa. Every child has something they want deep down. Whether it be an action figure, a puppy, a bike, or something a little deeper such as to maintain good health, a roof over their head, or simply someone to listen to them. Every child deserves to be heard and every child deserves to experience the same sweet and delicate hope that we feel when we write to Santa.

One thing that I loved seeing as a kid was all the mailboxes dedicated specifically to Santa. As strange as this is, it’s socially acceptable because it’s Santa. My favorite mailbox to Santa is the one in Macy’s in New York City. The way it is displayed like it's the Holy Grail of the store made it more magical, dropping my letter into the box. Though, I was always nervous to put my letter in because part of me felt like I was being too greedy asking for all those things. Every year I told myself the same lie to justify my asking for so much stuff: It’s so Santa has options. To this day I am guilty of using this weak line of justification to defend my long list of demands. However, at least I know that Santa does indeed have options.

I remember my little brother and I spending an entire evening writing our letters to Santa. We would only use the colors red and green to try to appeal to him, and we would always send our regards to his reindeer for good measure. My brother, being the biggest Mickey Mouse fan to exist, asked for Mickey Mouse sheets for his bed when he was in preschool. I remember that being a very odd thing for him to ask for, given he was 4 years old at the time asking for a semi-adult-ish gift. Nevertheless, he received them and was as happy as could be since he could "sleep with Mickey" every night.

Unlike my brother, I guess I never really "matured" in what I would ask for from Santa. Every year I’d still write down the most random items like I was a 5-year-old. My brother, while still asking for Legos and Funko Pops, has always been a bit more rational than I. If I were to write a letter to Santa right now, I would ask for new shoes, books, and a new ring to go with my cross necklace. While the shoes are truly something that I need and should probably invest in myself, the books and the ring just display the childish side of me. In years prior, I have asked for things like American Girl dolls, a typewriter, a Nintendo 3DS (specifically the pink one), and have even been so bold as to ask for a Fender Stratocaster guitar in the luscious light blue. However, as I am growing older, I am finding that I need to ask for necessities, or in other words, things I need but don’t want to pay for. For instance, makeup, hair products, jeans, and SHOES. I do believe this comes with age though; by this I mean, as we grow older, we start to appreciate the little things that we don’t have to pay for, and the real gift is the gift of saving money.

Way back in the early 2010s, Sears would do Christmas photo shoots, and my mom was all over it. Each year we would go for our Christmas portraits, and when we were done, we got to visit Santa in the mall to give him our letters. It’s upsetting that little traditions like that don’t exist anymore since Amazon has put so many companies, like Sears, out of business. Even still, it was how my little brother and I would give our letters to Santa until Sears closed down.

Each year, children all over the world write letters to Santa expressing what it is they want most for Christmas. Not only children, but adults share this tradition too. Christmas is a time to not only be with our family and friends to celebrate the birth of our Lord, but to also be a little selfish and write to Santa sharing our desires.

Read other articles by Gracie Smith

Let’s talk to Santa!

Devin Owen
MSMU Class of 2026

As the holiday season approaches, we are subconsciously forced to slip into the mindset pertaining to our holiday traditions. Personally, I revert back to the small child excited to wake up early Christmas morning and bug her parents until they get out of bed, to have her whole family come over to indulge in the Christmas morning breakfast while we open gifts together. Granted, these traditions have changed significantly over the years; no longer am I waking up both parents, but rather waking up one and then driving to the home of the other. No longer are my parents holding the Christmas morning breakfast festivities, and I am no longer a child. However, I will always be a child at heart, which is why my love for Christmas is so strong. No longer am I the small, impressionable 5-year-old, but instead I am the small, impressionable 19-year-old with nieces and nephews to spoil and introduce to the holiday traditions I have always loved.

My niece is finally at the age where she can understand and enjoy the traditions that we have and the new ones we’ve implemented in recent years: making and decorating Christmas cookies, giving gifts to family members, drinking hot cocoa and watching The Santa Claus, baking homemade cinnamon rolls in addition to Mama Cindie’s ‘Christmas Morning Breakfast’ casserole, spreading reindeer food for Santa’s famous helpers, and writing letters to the big man himself.

That was another huge tradition in my family: writing letters to Santa and then mailing them off. I have always found this activity to be extremely beneficial in life. The world we live in is difficult enough, so we should let kids be kids and embrace every depth of their imagination. By that I am tempted to ask: if you wrote letters to Santa as a kid, what did you write in those letters? What did you ask Santa for when you wrote to him? My letters to Santa growing up usually consisted of the usual: ‘toys, toys, toys…oh! And a puppy!’ There were also some letters that asked for blessings of sorts: "Dear Santa, this year for Christmas I want my parents to get a divorce. A weird ask, really, but I can tell they’re not happy anymore." In all honesty, the letters I wrote to Santa each year varied dramatically.

For those who have the tradition of Santa in their lives, writing him letters could implement a stronger belief as it provides a physical representation of their belief—the presents help with that as well. Every kid who writes to Santa gets to prove to themselves that their belief is strong, it exists, and they are fully aware. However, writing these letters is not the only part of the process that helps to strengthen the belief in the physical embodiment of the holiday spirit. Many places have holiday workshops set up for kids to write their letters and decorate them, then they get to mail them off to the North Pole through the fancily decorated Santa mailboxes. Giving the kids the opportunity to interact with their belief only adds strength and health to their own imagination, a beautiful form of positive creativity.

Not only does this activity provide benefits to the children in forms of imagination, but it also offers benefits to intelligence. If you start having children write their letters to Santa at a young age, their writing skills begin to improve or develop. The act of writing letters requires many various language skills such as spelling, grammar, organization, list making, etc. Having the ability to write letters in a fun, exciting, and magical way adds fun and enjoyment to a learning process; it provides an opportunity for children to practice and enhance their writing and organizational skills while still having fun and embracing their imagination. Intelligence though isn’t just directed towards cognitive functions in an educational way, but rather it targets multiple concepts such as emotional/mental activity as well. Writing letters allows for the kids participating to build emotional responses and empathy, as they can ask to help others rather than just themselves; such asks reinforce the spirit behind what is known as ‘the season of giving.’ Kids are much more thoughtful than we give them credit for; it is one of the many beauties of childhood.

Writing letters to Santa was always one of my favorite traditions growing up—a tradition which I hope to pass on to my own children when that time does come. I never enjoyed it because I got to ask for things for myself though, I think that the joy and love I felt from it came from getting to spend time with my family in an exciting manner. Each year my mom, dad, grandmother, and siblings would trade off who we wrote our letters with; it was a super fun and inclusive way to start off our holiday season because we all got to write our letters together. I feel as though since entering my teenage and adult years we haven’t given a second thought to the traditions we once had, writing these letters being the main focal point with that. Maybe it’s a part of growing up; maybe we just forget the childlike joys we once had. Either way, I often find myself wishing I could go back an embrace these joys and traditions without the hindrance of doubt that has now been placed; adulting is hard and I miss being a kid.

Traditions are the building blocks of our life; our daily lives are built around them and they have shaped us into who we are. I think that the best part of them though, is when they begin to change as we grow up. No longer am I writing letters to Santa myself, but instead I am encouraging my niece and nephew—who are the brightest lights in my life—to write their letters each December and mail them off to the North Pole. I get to see their faces light up as they decorate their letters and then tell me what they want to write; the kitchen table covered in glitter and stickers, the kids shrieking in excitement, the pure joy written all over their face. Who wouldn’t want to write a letter to Santa after seeing that?

Read other articles by Devin Owen

My wish

Dolores Hans
MSMU class of 2025

When we were kids, everything we needed was provided to us by our parents. All our needs for basic survival, but also for happiness and enjoyment of life. If we needed something more, like sports shoes or money for a field trip, they provided that too. But if we saw something on TV that we wanted, or there was a trending video game, or we suddenly wanted to pick up the hobby of crocheting, more often than not our parents said to put it on our letters to Santa. There was a special time during the year, Christmas time, when we had a chance to ask for the unreasonable wants on our hearts, the things we wouldn’t normally ask our parents for because they were already providing us with the necessities of life. But with the prospect of Santa and magic, we believed we could ask for the things we wanted without it costing too much or being told we couldn’t have it. My parents provided a lot for me when I was young, even when it seemed like we had nothing. I still feel weird about splurging money on the things I want because I am used to only having the necessities. Christmas was the one time a year I could ask for something outrageously awesome and not worry about it coming from my parents. Then I got older, and once I knew the truth about Santa, I never again asked for my heart’s desires because I didn’t want to inconvenience my parents.

My wants and desires have changed though. I no longer want to possess material things. Well, I do, but my reliance on them has changed. Christmas now, as an adult, is a time full of playfulness and beauty, romance and tradition. I find myself daydreaming about spending the holidays with the love of my life, my beloved, and all that we could experience together. Dancing in the snowfall under the streetlights, getting cozy by the fireplace, baking cookies and listening to jazz, laughing while watching Christmas movies, decorating our tree, building snowmen, getting together with our families, and starting our own traditions. When I am asked what I want for Christmas, my first thought is to say that I want an engagement ring. But I don’t want a ring, I want a proposal. I want him to ask me to spend my life with him. Then I think to say that I want a wedding. But I don’t want a wedding, I want a marriage. All the things I desire can be had without physical material possessions. Santa provided us with the idea that anything is possible, and that magic can create the things we wish for, if we simply ask. How I wish that were as true for me now as it was for me then, back when I was young.

If I still had the opportunity to make a secret letter, listed with my biggest hopes and dreams, and hand it to my mother to be sent to the North Pole, and in a couple weeks I would wake up with those hopes fulfilled, what would I ask for? If I were to write to Santa today, assuming he can fulfill my wishes with ease and magic, as we all assumed when we were kids, I know I would ask for gifts that are more like assurances than physical presents.

Dear Santa. Merry Christmas! I am excited to write to you again. It’s been a while. This year, I am asking for things that I have never asked for. I am not asking for the typical things that I ask for every year. I am not asking for jewelry or clothes, nor am I asking for cookbooks and painting supplies. I have no need for rings or sweaters, or canvases or vintage recipes. Not when I have my beloved. His arms provide more warmth than a million sweaters. His body, a canvas I paint with my kisses. Our love is more timeless than old fashioned sweets, and I don’t need a ring on my finger to symbolize the love we share. I do ask, however, that you gift me a sign. A sign that the future I dream of is coming my way. A simple house that I can make a home for us, a secure job for him that aligns with his passions, healthy and happy children that I can nurture and provide for. I ask that you gift me the ability to keep Christmas joy in my heart year-round, so I can joyously and ceaselessly grant my family’s every wish. So that I can show my children how to care for others and share their laughter generously and have pride in their goofy qualities. I ask that you gift me a stronger heart, to bear more suffering and sacrifice so that I can still be grateful and present in the tough times. I ask that the one whom I hold in my heart be the one I spend my life with. In partnership, in love, and in happiness. I ask that you gift me as many opportunities as possible in this life to be by his side through every up and down, every adventure, every new experience, every laughter, smile, tear, hug, morning, evening, night, thunderstorm, first snowfall, summer vacation, and everything in between. This year, the only thing I want, the only thing I truly long for, is a life with him. So, Santa, just a recap in case you didn’t get it: I want the picket fence and a house I can make a home. I want constant joy so I can spread joy to others. I want a sign that the future I want is coming to me. I want endless opportunities to share this life with the man I love, and for him to be the one that builds a future with me. Thanks! Merry Christmas! P.S. Don’t fall off the roof.

Read other articles by Dolores Hans

Thank you notes

Claire Doll
MSMU Class of 2024

Hi Santa! I’ve been wondering if I have been a good girl. I want a lot of things for Christmas. First, I want Cecile the American Girl Doll. I also want a dress for my doll. Also, I want some good books. I would really like them to be mysteries, like Nancy Drew. Also, I want pretty clothes and jewelry. I hope I’m on your nice list! Write back!

I hope I never forget how writing these letters felt. Picking your best pen and adorning a blank page with the words, "Dear Santa." Flipping through magazines, or window-shopping at your favorite store, and listing everything you ever wanted. Oh, and the latest American Girl Doll. I just had to have her, whoever she was.

Christmas is a feeling. I can’t describe it well, because I only felt the true weight of its magic as a child. The red velvet dress, the cookies.

The letters to Santa, and thinking they’ll reach the North Pole.

I would write them religiously, every year. To me, the letters to Santa held power. I could slip it into the mailbox, and magically, it would make Christmases perfect. Like a transaction, almost.

(Hopefully, you’re by yourself reading this, and there’s no kids around. If there are, read this next part to yourself—don’t show them the page).

My first heartbreak was learning the truth about Santa. I still remember that Christmas Eve. We spent it at my Mommom and Poppop’s house with all my mom’s family. In the kitchen, there would be plenty food set out: cheese and crackers, pepperoni, vegetables and ranch, all kinds of cookies, and the beloved eggnog that still sends me back to these kinds of nights. In the living room, wrapping paper. Twinking lights from the tree. Music swirling in the background. Crisp, frozen air seeping in from the windows, unmatched to the warmth of inside, of the crackling fire. My aunt Colleen’s laughter, a sound I only heard every so often, and my cousin Colton’s high-pitched, precious voice.

But because I had found out about Santa just days before, I spent that Christmas Eve crying. I had younger cousins, so I watched them open gifts from Mommom and Poppop and go on about their letters to Santa. My older sister Margaret had already known years before, and it was just plain fact to the rest of my family. I was so heartbroken, so hurt and withered, that I ran upstairs to the bathroom. Locking the door, I cried, hot tears streaming down my face. Me, in my red velvet dress, hair curled, ten-year-old makeup (yes, I was ten when I found out). Me, shattered at what felt like the worst feeling there was.

Some view it as another layer of innocence being peeled off. Some think of Santa as pointless (why would you want your child to feel this way after it all, anyways?). I simply felt angry, almost as if I were grieving. But, grieving what? Santa Claus, someone who I had never met? Or the idea behind it all?

I’ll tell you how the following Christmas morning went. I still woke up, flutters in my stomach. Golden light still seeping through the windows. Mom’s makeup-less face, Dad’s trash bag. The gifts were still there. Cecelia, and all her dresses (because I had an obsession over American Girl Dolls), and Nancy Drew books, and so much more. It was all the same, with the giant glaring difference, but it was all there. And for all the years after that, it was still there. The magical Christmas Eves, that morning feeling.

There’s only two people I can thank for this, really. My parents. My mom and dad have spent years making Christmas the most perfect holiday.

My father is a paramedic for Baltimore City and could have spent so many Christmases at work, but in my twenty-one years of life, he has never missed a single December 25th with me (and he won’t be missing my twenty-second Christmas, either). He works tirelessly and effortlessly to afford such amazing gifts and time with us. He is the hardest worker I know, and I never appreciated this as a child. I wrote to Santa; I thanked Santa.

And my mother. She works tirelessly, too—making Christmas cookies, decorating our entire house, moving the coffee table in the living room so we have more space for presents. For twelve years she has still been playing Santa; she crafts each Christmas so it is perfect, like I am seven again, even though I am well over that age, even though that’s not how life is anymore. But it’s beautiful, the way she created a childhood that I am eternally thankful for. The way she replicates it every year. She is the reason I have my American Girl Dolls. She is the reason I think of magic when I drink eggnog or smell the Christmas tree. But as a child, I wrote to Santa, and thanked Santa, too.

I don’t think the idea of Santa is bad. In fact, I think it is important that children have this very first heartbreak, so they feel an even greater love and thankfulness for their parents. To make Christmas magical is difficult. There are so many challenges and hardships in the world, that creating magic seems pointless.

I know that when I’m old, I would give anything to be where I am, right now. To still have Christmases with my parents and sister, to still spend it with my family. To write thank-you notes to Mom and Dad, rather than Santa—because even though I’ll never get back those years where I believed in a flying sleigh and reindeer and presents through the chimney, I’ll also never get back the years of consciousness and gratefulness and having everyone right here, right now. That is the beauty of Christmas.

So thank you, Mom and Dad, for all the Christmases of the past and present. I hope to make the ones of the future just as special. Thank you for moving the living room coffee table, for baking extra cookies, for Cecile the American Girl Doll.

Read other articles by Claire Doll

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