Whereas most refrigerator photos are a modest wallet size, or maybe 4 by 5 inches, this one is at least 11 by 17. Held in place by a magnet and wrinkled around the edges — clearly well-consulted — it’s a portrait of Vernon and Ellen Landreth’s family: four grown children and 19 grandkids (as of now; there were fewer grandchildren when the photo was taken).
Vernon peels it off the door to make his point: “This was our training ground.”
The first time Vernon played Santa — when his training began — was when his kids were in grade school. He had to wear one of those fake, fluffy cotton beards. It’s laughable now, his humble beginnings.
Because 35 years later, Vernon and Ellen are very serious about their roles as Santa and Mrs. Claus.
Each year at those family gatherings, the “training” gathered momentum. As Vernon’s beard went white — not a fake one now, no sirree — and as kids would stare at him in the grocery store, the Landreths have turned the roles into both a business and a calling.
Vernon: “Do you know the four stages of a man’s life? First, you believe in Santa. Then you don’t believe in Santa. Then you have children of your own and you become Santa. And then, you look like Santa…”
Where he is on the continuum is a bit vague.
“(Kids) ask me: Are you the real Santa?’ I say, ‘Do you think my beard is real?’ They’ll say,‘Yeah.’ ‘You want to pull it and see?’ I’ll get a no or maybe or yeah. Well, eventually most of them will pull it, and when they do, I’ll yelp. They’ll jump — or at least the adults do — and they’ll say, ‘You ARE the real Santa.’ (Then I don’t have to say it.)
“To adults, of course, I say I am the real Santa.”
This, however, was not always the case.
When the Landreths’ four children were young, back before the cotton beard, Vernon and Ellen taught them that there was no Santa.
The children all got presents from Santa, of course, but the deal was: Everyone pretended, and no one told. It had to do with honesty; the Landreths didn’t want to lie to their children.
But their thoughts on the matter have changed over time.
Vernon: “The grandkids would come up — ‘Grandpa, when are you going to get your coat and sack and bring in the presents?’ They’d say it in a whisper. … Everybody knew I was Santa, but they pretended like they didn’t.
“For my grandkids, I’ve done it differently. I’ve encouraged my kids to tell them that there was a St. Nicholas — and we’re carrying on the tradition of St. Nicholas … the one who loved children and gave gifts and did it secretly.”
Vernon is a retired minister, and Ellen is his wife and “a full-time volunteer.” They’ve been married for 48 years. It’s pretty much time for them to retire — he’s 69 and she’s 68 — but a pastor’s salaries and a pastor’s retirement accounts being what they are, Vernon works delivering Meals on Wheels. Ellen works part-time and has her own business helping people write their life stories. Among other things, the holiday engagements supplement their income. (More than half of their appearances, though, are volunteer).
But when he can (which is not always), Vernon loves to tell the origin of Santa, beginning with Nicholas. Later becoming a saint, he was born in 270 A.D. in what is now Turkey. He inherited wealth and gave most of it away; he was exiled and imprisoned for being a Christian.
Vernon: “There have to be grains of truth in the fantastic stories told about him. …Nicholas gave gifts, we know that. He loved children; he loved the secrecy (of doing good deeds).
“As a bishop, he wore a red cape. Whatever you say about the history of that sort of thing, we celebrate the concept of St. Nicholas.”
St. Nicholas in the Netherlands is Sinterklass, who became Santa Claus in America, and in Vernon’s mind, the name “Santa” references the saint.
“When I’m allowed to tell it, I point out: When you do your kindnesses secretly … you are Santa. And Santa lives on wherever that is done.”
Which is a little different than the current cultural portrayal of the jolly elf.
Ellen: “The whole concept of Santa is to be good for goodness’ sake. … People teach children now: ‘Santa’s watching. You’d better be good or you won’t get any presents.’ ”
Vernon: “I try to fight that because Santa loves you and you’re going to get gifts. St. Nicholas read the Scriptures and did what he did because of the influence of God’s love in his life. That’s what Christmas and Santa means to me: to encourage people to do good.”
The day before Christmas is as busy for the Landreths as it is at the North Pole. Santa and Mrs. Claus spend the morning at Elks Rehab Hospital and the afternoon and evening making house visits, where they hand out gifts, read stories, take photos, make memories. And then comes the best of all.
Ellen: “Christmas Day is our favorite day of the year.
“We don’t make any money on that day. We don’t even do Christmas gifts for each other anymore, and I can’t believe we would ever come to that point. But we don’t have time.”
The night before was, you know, a bit on the hectic side for Santa. But he and Mrs. Claus are out anyway on Christmas morning at the Ronald McDonald House and St. Luke’s in Meridian, passing out triple-striped candy canes, ho-ho-hos and Christmas greetings. From the first floor to the top, from the emergency room to the nursery, he makes a point of greeting doctors and janitors and patients and staff alike.
Vernon: “We walk in the door, and they start crying … It is humbling. It brings tears to my eyes.
“Sometimes, we go to the baby area. Mothers — so protective of their children — give Santa their newborns to hold.”
It’s a lot of work, and they give up Christmas morning with the grandkids to visit others. Their family Christmas will come later, but in the meantime, they have commitments. And it is the people’s response to them that fill their hearts.
Ellen: “It’s a kind of magic — it gives you chills. I think, oh, this is where we need to be.”
They savor a memory that oddly enough — or not, depending on your point of view — happened twice over the past two years, the same response from two different people. They were both women in the hospital, elderly, frail and bedridden.
Ellen: “I remember that (moment) and think, oh, it is so worth it. We’re not giving up anything (on Christmas morning). We’re getting. A lot.”
Each of the women, alone in her room and coping with various ailments, spied them as they paused at her hospital door. Looking up, each cried out:
“Oh, Santa, I knew you’d come.”
Know someone living “from the heart”? Idaho Statesman photojournalist Katherine Jones spotlights someone in the Treasure Valley who influences our lives not only by what they do, but how and why they do it. Do you know someone we should know? Call 377-6414 or email kjones@idahostatesman.com.
