age, he was determined to survive the night. Cubby followed them back upstairs, to my father and Judy’s warm bedroom in the third-floor loft. He turned to my stepmother. “You stay down there, and I’ll stay here with Grandpa.” And that’s what she did. From then on, Cubby stayed upstairs with his grandfather and Judy stayed in the guest room.
They loved having him there. My father kept that box of toys in a corner for the next ten years, just for Cubby’s visits. Cubby outgrew the toys, but they didn’t care. When the holidays came, they decorated a spectacular Christmas tree together and made a Christmas village. The only thing missing was the story of Santa, and I provided that.
Most kids don’t know the history of Christmas; they just know it’s the day they get lots of presents. I wanted more for my son; I wanted him to know how it came to be and why we celebrate. After all, an informed child is a happy child. Not only that, an informed child will be full of stories to share with his friends. I’d never done too well at childhood story sharing or friend making, but I had high hopes for Cubby’s greater social success.
With that in mind, I told Cubby the greatest secret of Christmas: how Santa got his reindeer. The story began with Santa’s great-grandfather. He was the one, I told Cubby, who started the Christmas reindeer tradition, back in 1822, after he found himself shipwrecked in the far reaches beyond the Arctic Circle.
Cubby bounced up and down, eager to hear the story. He liked to bounce when my stories got exciting. Here is what I told him:
Captain Santa was whaling in the Northern Ocean, far, far from home. The weather had been unseasonably warm, and he’d ventured up the western coast of Greenland, farther north than he’dever gone before. By late September, he was beginning to think he might make it all the way to the North Pole
.
Most years, the ice would have stopped his northward progress, but in 1822 the oceans were clear. He was in deep water, far offshore, without a single iceberg in sight. Little did he know that the sea and sky were luring him into a trap
.
The cool afternoon turned to bone-chilling night. It got so cold that sailors’ breath left masks of frost on their faces. The wind roared, and waves shattered the railings. Seawater froze against the rigging faster than the crew could chip it away. By morning, the ship looked like a fairy-tale castle of ice, and the heaving sea had gone silent, frozen solid
.
They were trapped. Within a few days the ice around the ship was five feet thick. It looked like they’d never get free, and the men fell into a state of deep despair
.
For the first week of their captivity, all they saw was ice. Nothing moved except the wind, and that never stopped. A frozen wasteland stretched as far as the eye could see. Santa was afraid they would all perish, but on the morning of the fifteenth day, the ship’s lookout spotted movement on the horizon. A series of dots were making their way toward the ship. By midday Captain Santa could see that the specks were a herd of reindeer. He’d heard legends about creatures of the arctic, but he’d never seen any up close
.
The reindeer approached with curiosity. Sensing that they might be hungry, Santa offered them bread from his meager stock of provisions, and they gobbled it up hungrily. With that gesture, he made some new friends and saved himself and his crew
.
I had taken Cubby to see the reindeer at the Roger Williams Zoo in Providence. They were gentle creatures, very different from the deer that ran wild in our local woods. Cubby even got a chance to pet one. He remembered the feel of its fur as I told himabout Santa. Cubby always enjoyed having a personal connection to my stories.
The reindeer settled down near the ship, eating Santa’s food and cavorting on the ice. As he watched them, an idea took shape in his mind. The ship was trapped in ice and going nowhere. But perhaps he could
They loved having him there. My father kept that box of toys in a corner for the next ten years, just for Cubby’s visits. Cubby outgrew the toys, but they didn’t care. When the holidays came, they decorated a spectacular Christmas tree together and made a Christmas village. The only thing missing was the story of Santa, and I provided that.
Most kids don’t know the history of Christmas; they just know it’s the day they get lots of presents. I wanted more for my son; I wanted him to know how it came to be and why we celebrate. After all, an informed child is a happy child. Not only that, an informed child will be full of stories to share with his friends. I’d never done too well at childhood story sharing or friend making, but I had high hopes for Cubby’s greater social success.
With that in mind, I told Cubby the greatest secret of Christmas: how Santa got his reindeer. The story began with Santa’s great-grandfather. He was the one, I told Cubby, who started the Christmas reindeer tradition, back in 1822, after he found himself shipwrecked in the far reaches beyond the Arctic Circle.
Cubby bounced up and down, eager to hear the story. He liked to bounce when my stories got exciting. Here is what I told him:
Captain Santa was whaling in the Northern Ocean, far, far from home. The weather had been unseasonably warm, and he’d ventured up the western coast of Greenland, farther north than he’dever gone before. By late September, he was beginning to think he might make it all the way to the North Pole
.
Most years, the ice would have stopped his northward progress, but in 1822 the oceans were clear. He was in deep water, far offshore, without a single iceberg in sight. Little did he know that the sea and sky were luring him into a trap
.
The cool afternoon turned to bone-chilling night. It got so cold that sailors’ breath left masks of frost on their faces. The wind roared, and waves shattered the railings. Seawater froze against the rigging faster than the crew could chip it away. By morning, the ship looked like a fairy-tale castle of ice, and the heaving sea had gone silent, frozen solid
.
They were trapped. Within a few days the ice around the ship was five feet thick. It looked like they’d never get free, and the men fell into a state of deep despair
.
For the first week of their captivity, all they saw was ice. Nothing moved except the wind, and that never stopped. A frozen wasteland stretched as far as the eye could see. Santa was afraid they would all perish, but on the morning of the fifteenth day, the ship’s lookout spotted movement on the horizon. A series of dots were making their way toward the ship. By midday Captain Santa could see that the specks were a herd of reindeer. He’d heard legends about creatures of the arctic, but he’d never seen any up close
.
The reindeer approached with curiosity. Sensing that they might be hungry, Santa offered them bread from his meager stock of provisions, and they gobbled it up hungrily. With that gesture, he made some new friends and saved himself and his crew
.
I had taken Cubby to see the reindeer at the Roger Williams Zoo in Providence. They were gentle creatures, very different from the deer that ran wild in our local woods. Cubby even got a chance to pet one. He remembered the feel of its fur as I told himabout Santa. Cubby always enjoyed having a personal connection to my stories.
The reindeer settled down near the ship, eating Santa’s food and cavorting on the ice. As he watched them, an idea took shape in his mind. The ship was trapped in ice and going nowhere. But perhaps he could
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