Years ago, at this time of year, I was in the bedroom that I shared with two sisters when one came downstairs to tell me that someone was at the door for me. “Some guy,” was all she’d elaborate. I glanced in the mirror. I didn’t have my contacts in. I laid my glasses on the dresser and went up to the family room more from familiarity than sight. I thought I could figure out who it was from hair color and his coat.
How blind am I without contacts or glasses? It’s been decades since I saw the large capital E. [I really don’t like eye exams. I swear that when the optometrist asks, “1 or 2? 2 or 3?” he’s just messing with me. I think he switches them on purpose so that 1 & 3 are really the same, except when 2 & 3 are. I just want to slap him.]
Anyway, that evening when I was nineteen, I went into the family room where a person in red—head to toe as far as I could tell—boomed out: “Merry Christmas!’
I hung back in the doorway horrified. Somebody that knew me (and that I had probably dated) had dressed up like Santa to bring me a treat and wish me a Merry Christmas. And I had no idea who it was because the face was just a blur.
I encouraged my really young siblings to come see Santa, hoping to pick up clues from his voice. Nothing. The plate of cookies were delivered. The children were delighted and “Santa” left with a “Merry Christmas Susan.”
I was in trouble. The whole next week I hoped someone would say something to tip their hand. No such luck. So I hoped they thought the disguise was too good and not that I was a snob, because nobody ever mentioned it or referred to it.
To this day I have no idea who came.
[If it’s YOU, know I was grateful, but please, identify yourself already.]
P.P. [post post] I found this joke today:
Sol had lived a long life, which was drawing to its end. As his family surrounded him on his deathbed, he asked to see his optometrist.
“Optometrist?” they asked. “Why in the world do you want to see your optometrist?”
“Just get him for me.”
They brought Dr. Kaplan, who, on seeing Sol about to depart this life, asked, “Sol, it pains me to see you like this. What can I possibly do for you?”
Sol opened his eyes slightly and said, “Doc, before I go, there’s one thing I have to know. Which was better – A or B?”