Christmas is a holiday like no other.

By which I mean it’s like every other.

That’s why we scarf turkey like it’s Thanksgiving, wolf candy like its Halloween, and “hide” gifts under a tree, which is the first place that the Easter Bunny—or any cute holiday creature—would think to look. (Keep in mind the Tooth Fairy hasn’t missed a tooth since 1894.)

We also envision an immortal jolly man who has, at various times in history, brought you gifts, brought you coal, brought you nondenominational holiday cheer, stuffed you in a sack and taken you to Spain, or enslaved reindeer and elves to use in his North Pole sweat shop. (Viva la toy-making!)

Fortunately, some appropriations are more adult-practical. Saturnalia was the Romans’ December holiday featuring much booze and gambling, which we honor with “holiday cheer” and gambling three months of our financial stability on gifts that the recipients probably won’t like anyway.

Frankly, as dour adults with responsibilities, I miss believing in Santa. It was wonderful to think that there was a single person who knew and loved every child on earth. Every kid deserves that. Alright, fine, you’ve dragged the confession from me…

I actually still do believe in Santa.

Christmas is glamorized, commercialized, and even lampooned (like I did above). But most of us still love it (like the smell of Uncle Bob’s annual mushroom, gorgonzola, and brussel sprout casserole) because when we were young, Santa/Christmas was exciting. Sure, maybe we were snot-nosed, gift-grubbing urchins, but even so, Christmas brought more than flying wrapping paper and squeals of delight.

Much more.

My grandmother made Christmas wonderful, beyond description. She decorated seven trees, cooked for days ahead of time, and dearly loved each of us bratty grandkids. Christmas was filled with light and warmth because of her. My grandmother was every good thing that kids believe about Santa.

Then, she passed just a few days before Christmas, 2009.

I won’t lie. That Christmas was a difficult one, and there were whispers that it would forever taint the holiday. But that was wrong, and the wrong perspective. It was always her favorite holiday, just as it will always be mine. In her final days, didn’t she deserve the hope and warmth she’d brought to everyone else? I’m glad that her passing came at Christmas. Now, when that time of year comes around, I’m comforted by remembering the light and love and warmth of Christmas surrounding her as she moved on from the world.

Transonic is based in Ithaca, so I lived there for about a year, including a single Christmas. A few days before the 25th, I was in a thrift store, shopping for cheap junk I didn’t need, and happened to pass by a mother and child in the toy section. They were poorly dressed, and the boy, maybe 6 or 7 years old, was obsessed with a plastic racetrack that someone had donated. He begged his mother, but, in embarrassment, she kept telling him she didn’t have the money.

As soon as they stepped away from it, I quietly asked the clerk at the register how much it cost. He said $5. I surreptitiously handed him the money and told him to tell them an anonymous shopper had left some money for kids’ Christmas gifts. Then I hid in the back of the store to watch.

The clerk caught them on their way out the door. You should have seen the boy’s face. He was overjoyed, buzzing with excitement. The mother, I kid you not, teared up.

All of that, over $5.

Believe me, you’d hand out five dollar bills all day long to see what I got to see in their faces. As I left the store, I wondered regretfully how much happiness that could be so easily bought if only I could be in the right places at the right moments.

But then it hit me. Yes, I’m just one person, but all together, we’re a veritable Christmas army…

So this is what it’s taken me a page and a half to ask you: will you be on the lookout for someone whose Christmas you can make wonderful? It will probably come in a way you won’t suspect, but it may cost less than you think.

So yes, at 43 years old, I still believe in Santa, thanks to that little kid and his racetrack. Santa is real as long as we understand who he is—who he’s always been.

He’s my Grandmother.

He’s me.

And he’s you.

From all of us at Transonic, I wish you the warmest, most wonderful Christmas you’ve ever had. And with a little luck, I wish you an opportunity to make someone else’s Christmas wonderful, too.

Thanks for reading,

               Transonic Systems, Inc

                        The Measure of Better Results