Bill Speer

Do world events instill fear and frustration in you?

Do you wonder whatever happened to common sense?

Do you find yourself wondering what season the calendar says it should be when you walk into a store and see merchandise for end-of-summer sales, flannel and hunter orange on the racks, Halloween costumes, Thanksgiving serving platters and Christmas ornaments and garland?

If you, like me, identify with one of those categories, then fear not, I have some good news for you this morning.

Last week, I visited Santa Claus, and, indeed, the elves of the community were hard at work. Despite everything else, it appears Christmas is right on track again this year. It evoked peace on earth and goodwill toward man kinds of emotions in me.

Diane and I travel a lot. And while we were in Bloomington, Indiana visiting with family, we took advantage of our grandkids in school and their parents at work to one day explore the area. One of our discoveries was a quaint village of candy canes and sugar plums called Santa Claus.

If you walk into any store in the community, you are greeted with Christmas songs. Garland adorns the lightpoles and there is a museum in the town that explains the origin of the community and why its residents embrace all things Christmas.

If you are like me, then the first thing that should run through your mind was, how did a city come to be called Santa Claus?

Well, as post offices back in the mid-1800s in the United States began to be formed, the name of the community they served needed approval. Originally, Santa Claus was known as Santa Fee, Indiana. U.S. Postal officials rejected the application for Santa Fee, as there already was another post office in Indiana named Santa Fe.

According to the Spencer County Visitor’s Bureau, what happened next is a bit of magic mixed with myth.

“According to local legend, it was a cold December night in this small, rural area. The townsfolk were gathered in a small log church on Christmas Eve discussing a new name for their town. Several names were tossed around but nothing seemed to be the right fit. Children were running around playing while the adults were deep in discussion. Suddenly, a gust of wind blew open the church doors and the sound of sleigh bells drifted inside. The children ran to the door and shouted, ‘Santa Claus! Santa Claus!’

And immediately the decision of what to name the town became clear. Santa Claus was accepted by the U.S. Postal Service on May 21, 1856.”

With a name like Santa Claus, it was only a matter of time before town officials realized what a merchandising goldmine they were sitting on.

In 1914, World War I broke out in Europe and it was a dark and gloomy time in the world. Perhaps because of that — or just the fact he wanted to make children smile — Postmaster James Martin began responding to children’s letters that came into the Santa Claus Post Office.

Initially, Martin answered every letter, but soon he needed an army of elves to assist in the endeavor.

While that effort was popular, the practice mushroomed in 1930, when Robert Ripley included several panels of his “Believe It Or Not” newspaper cartoons with mention of Santa Claus, Indiana.

As World War II came to an end in 1946, developers opened in the city the first themed amusement park in the U.S. Of course, the theme was Santa Claus and winter. The park remains an important part of the city today.

While visiting Santa Claus, I was temporarily able to forget the woes of the world. I smiled more, relaxed more. It was a moment of time when I felt part of a snowglobe scene.

But, as we know, when you shake a snow globe — just like that — everything finds itself upside down.

Five miles from Santa Claus is the Abraham Lincoln boyhood national monument, a place that the future president called home for 14 years of his childhood. I had hoped to visit it that day, but, because there was no agreement on a federal budget, the visitors center was closed.

And, like a splash of cold water, reality sank back in as a budget shutdown just became personal to me. It was a frustration, but one I knew only Congress could fix.

Leaving the monument, the only way back to Bloomington was back through Santa Claus.

I could have been angry.

I could have been disappointed.

Instead, I chose to smile at Santa and his reindeer with the knowledge that I can now say with certainty, “Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.”