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 Merry Christmas to all. I hope you all had a wonderful holiday with those you love. While researching today's post, I stumbled upon an editorial at Cincinnati.com originally published in The Enquirer in 2004. It is as relevant today as then, and more worthy of publication than anything topical I could write. Please enjoy, there's always time for politics tomorrow.
Yes, Santa, There Is Still A Virginia It was Christmastime, more than a century ago, when the New York Sun received an earnest and highly memorable letter from 8-year-old Virginia O'Hanlon. Her friends, the girl wrote, had told her there was no Santa Claus.
Virginia's doubts were so gracefully assuaged by editorial writer Francis P. Church that Santa Claus' existence has not, to our knowledge, come into question since he replied that, "Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus."
But recently the doubts of another equally innocent party have come to our attention in the form of a letter whose postmark was smudged and handwriting shaky. Unfounded doubts must always be allayed, and faith, when it can, must be renewed.
And so on this Christmas Eve, with warm remembrances of Mr. Church and little Virginia, we at The Enquirer share this letter with you, along with our response:
Dear Editors,
As you no doubt know, I have spent many years attempting to fulfill the dreams and gladden the hearts of children. It is all that I have asked of life, and until now my request has been generously granted. But now, in a world that is more self-possessed - dare I say far colder? - than I have ever known it, I am given to wondering this: Is there still a Virginia?
Are there still children with room in their hearts for stories they cannot prove and deeds they cannot track and measure? Do they still believe in kindness, and unlikely generosity and even magic?
I dare not trust my own judgment on this, shaped as it is by my endless belief in the imaginations and innocence of children. So, Enquirer, I look to you for the truth.
Santa Claus
It is not often that we have the opportunity to address a reader's concerns so directly as yours, Mr. Claus, nor to contemplate a matter of more importance. Yes, we write of politics and laws, and even of wars and great tragedies. But we see in your question a haunting riddle that rings down through the ages and echoes in our own psyches.
As human beings progress in life, as they push back the curtain on the hows and whys of all that is around them, can they still embrace those things that cannot be explained?
Can we look past our growing body of proof, impressive as it is, and leave a margin for simple believing?
With no aim of self-congratulation, we submit that you have come to the right place to find out such things, Mr. Claus. Among other things, journalists are known for their devotion to the facts and for their utter objectivity. But what many people miss is that journalists are also extraordinarily sharp observers of people and, as is more commonly known, come in contact with so many of them.
And so it is that we can say without a doubt that, yes, Santa Claus, there is a Virginia. We have seen her not once but hundreds of times, and we can attest that she is not only real and alive but robust and ever-enduring.
As you rightly noted, the world has changed greatly since Virginia wrote that childlike letter, but we are happy to assure you that Virginia herself has not changed. Children are born each day, and so each day the world begins anew.
We adults may hold up our mere lanterns in this vast cavern of life and chink away at the darkness around us, supposing that we cover new ground and claim new territory for humankind. But in fact, the children of the world hold all of life's truth within their untainted hearts, and we adults, in our greed and ego, are the only ones who can lose it.
Virginia still believes, Mr. Claus. We think, quite honestly, that you knew that all along. But even more than believing in you, Virginia still needs you.
The gifts you place under her tree may be sleeker and more complex than those you left in the past. The stockings you stuff may be far thinner, with gift cards taking the place of toys and cell phones replacing trinkets in the toe. But we can assure you that, come Christmas morning, Virginia will slip down the stairs as swiftly as ever and her eyes will widen as children's always have, and for a moment, all the madness of modern life will disappear.
And in that moment, if you can linger to behold it, you will see a child who is bold enough to believe, and a belief that is strong enough to endure.
Godspeed to you tonight, Santa Claus. There is valuable work to be done. And not just for the children.
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