A Christmas Story

When Jay Frankston was a child, Christmas felt like a big party he wasn’t invited to. Jay is Jewish, and Christmas was everyone else’s holiday. Jay felt left out: Santa came down his chimney only in dreams, so when Jay grew up and had a family of his own, he decided to give his children what he had longed for. He bought a Christmas tree, loaded it with lights and tinsel—and topped it with a Star of David! He played Santa for his kids for three years, wearing a rubberized mask and a Santa suit his wife made for him. Yet something was still missing: Jay offered his services to orphanages and children’s hospitals, but they turned him down. Then he was given access to some of the thousands of letters written to Santa Claus by kids, letters that languished on the post office floor every year. This one called out to him:Dear Santa,      I hope you get my letter. I am eleven years old. I have      two brothers and a baby sister. Our father      died last year, and our mother is sick. I know there are      many kids poorer than we are. I want nothing for      myself, but could you send us a blanket to keep Mommy      warm at night?      SusyJay found eight more letters like Susy’s, and sent the kids a telegram:: GOT YOUR LETTER. WILL BE AT YOUR HOUSE ON CHRISTMAS DAY. SANTA. Then he went out and spent $150 on gifts. On Christmas he dressed in his Santa costume, and his wife, Monique, drove him to each of the nine destinations. Eventually, some toy manufacturers heard about what Jay was doing; they gave him lots of goodies, and before long he was Santa Claus to 120 youngsters every Christmas.Jay recalls a seven-year-old girl who was visiting a home where he was distributing gifts. She hung back in a corner, and when Jay asked her if she’d ever received anything for Christmas, she said sadly, “No.” When he offered her a doll, she whispered to him, “I’m Jewish.”“I’m Jewish too,” he whispered back, handing her the doll.