MARK MY WORD: HO, HO, HO: SKINNY SANTA GETS INTO HOLIDAY SPIRIT

"Ho, Ho, Ho, Merry Christmas," I said. Actually, it was more of a muffled chant behind the fake white beard and mustache that masked my face.

I was a Toybox Santa, one of an army of red-suited guys and gals who delivered toys to needy children Thursday night in Cape Girardeau.

In all my 43 years, I'd never been a Santa before. It's a little scary impersonating Mr. Claus.

Several of my co-workers questioned my Santa skills. They thought I was far more suited to be Eeyore than Santa.

But having promised my friend, Scott, that I would help out in any way I could, I was in no position to back out. Besides, I thought it would be fun to play Santa, if just for a few short hours. I figured I could pin my tail back on later.

About 70 elves, drivers and Santas made the rounds, delivering hundreds of toys to all those good girls and boys.

We gathered in a warehouse to don our one-size-fits-all Santa suits. The suits fit some better than others. I stuffed my sweater under my Santa suit, which probably made me look more pregnant than fat.

The elves and drivers dressed casual. No funny shoes for the elves or Santa's helper hats for the drivers.

I was hoping I would get to ride in the sleigh. But I had to settle instead for a mini-van, the sleigh and reindeer apparently being reserved for the real Santa, who I surmised was probably resting in the warmth of his home at the North Pole.

After a practice round of "Ho, Ho, Ho," we were ready to roll. Thankfully, I had the help of two veteran elves and Scott, who drove our sleigh on tires.

The elves kept track of just which bag of toys went to a particular home. They reminded me to be jolly.

Being Santa is hard work. You have to check the list twice and know who has been naughty and nice.

The road trip started with a pit stop at a local convenience store since our North Pole headquarters wasn't equipped with bathrooms. Elves and all, we marched inside, where we discovered another Toybox Santa and crew making a similar stop. A little boy was in the store with his dad. He stared in amazement at the sight of two Santas standing around.

I wondered what the store clerk must think. When you see two masked men in a store, most people want to call the police. At any rate, no one said anything to us, probably because they were in a state of shock over the sorry state of Santa's attire. Soon, we were on our way. Ours was a relatively small route. We visited only 19 homes, but many of them had several children. In some cases, we visited several families in the same home.

Some of the boys and girls stood eagerly at the front door, watching as we approached. I shouted out "Ho, Ho, Ho, Merry Christmas" and the younger children smiled with delight. At one home, a little girl gave me a hug. Others smiled or waved at me.

At one house, the children tried to pull off my beard. The kids still got their presents and I managed to escape without being unmasked.

Some of the young kids on the route started crying when they saw me. You've got to admit that it can be frightening to see a strange man with a beard standing in your home. Of course, they could have been crying over Santa's thin appearance. Maybe they thought I was sick.

"You're the skinniest Santa that I've ever seen," one guy told me as we left the house. I turned and smilingly replied, "Santa's on a diet."

But even the non-believers couldn't dampen my enthusiasm for the job. Nothing could replace those singular smiles of joy when they received those basketballs, dolls and games.

"Thank you, Santa," many of the children said as we departed. Others just waved goodbye. One child blew me a kiss as I walked back to the van. I joyfully shouted, "Merry Christmas."

Right then and there, I knew what Christmas was about and I loved it.

So to all my faithful readers, I have just one thing to say: "Ho, Ho, Ho, Merry Christmas." It's time for Santa to eat some cookies.

~Mark Bliss is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.