WASHINGTON — Employment figures, economic indicators, stock prices – bah, humbug! Read some letters to Santa if you want to understand the Recession That Will Not Die.
There are letters from kids, hyped up on endless TV commercials and long histories of getting what they want, seeking entire Barbie ecosystems or absurdly expensive video game systems. And there are heartbreaking missives from those simply asking for a pair of shoes for a grandmother.
In my household, I began to worry for my child’s soul about two weeks ago, when the “crismus list” began taking on a Unabomber-like quality. My first-grader attacked this list with a ferocity and single-mindedness I had never imagined possible, helpfully providing Santa with model numbers and prices: “generl greevisis starfitr 8095 $49.99.” (Translation: He wants a Lego spaceship called the General Grievous Starfighter. But no way in the world is Santa spending $49.99 on it.)
I called one of my mommy friends to ask about list-writing in her household. It turns out that her 6-year-old was told to write a list of gifts for others as well. Good idea. Why didn’t I think of that? “So, what did her list look like?” I asked.
“Well,” my friend hesitated, “she came up with just one thing.” “And? What was it?” I said, bracing for something about a sack of rice to feed a small village.
“A remote control,” she said. “To control the world.” It got better.
The mini-mastermind in a pink headband left out a letter in the missive, addressing her humble request to”Sata.” When Mom gently suggested that she forgot an “N”, the 6-year-old quickly added it on, thus appropriately asking “Satan” for a world dominance remote control.
Awesome.
I had to see more letters. So I asked whether I could sit in on the sorting when U.S. Postal Service workers go through the letters to Santa that come pouring in every December.
When I walked into the Brentwood postal facility, I was handed 11 letters. They were fairly predictable: requests for roller skates, shoes, Legos, dolls, bikes, “cumputers,” Barbies, “a toilet seat for my aunt.” There was at least one poignant line about a mother: “Her bills is killing her.” And there was that request for shoes for Grandma (size 7).
I sifted through them and asked for more.
“That’s it. As far as the ones written by kids,” said Sharon Tennison, the local post office spokeswoman.
“What do you mean? What about all those?” I asked, pointing to stacks on two other desks.
“The rest we got were from adults,” she said. “They started coming in August.” “Letters to Santa? From grown-ups?” I asked.
Nearly 300 letters, written in neat print or loopy cursive script, described jobs lost and hungry children, addressed by adults to a man in a red suit who is apparently their last hope.
“I’m a single mom living in the D.C. General shelter with my kids,” one letter began. It ended with a request for not toys or bikes but clothes. Instead of model numbers and prices, she included her children’s shoe, underwear and clothing sizes.
“I want them to know there is hope,” she wrote.
They went on and on, hundreds of Hail Mary passes to Santa or the Postal Service or just anyone who might read the letters. Some were optimistic enough to include addresses and names. Others were nothing more than handwritten prayers signed with a single name, letters in a bottle sent adrift. A last resort, or maybe just catharsis.
“We saw a few last year, but it was never like this,” one clerk said.
The story has been the same across the country, where big-city post offices are seeing more requests for food and clothing, rather than toys, and more parents are doing the asking.
For about 100 years, the Postal Service has had volunteers help answer the letters, either by writing back or actually fulfilling some of the requests. Someone on the right end of the recession can take a letter and send off a jacket or doll to fulfill a request. But for many families who are homeless or jobless, what they really need can’t be sent in the mail.
Maybe the little girl who wanted the all-powerful remote control had the wisest request of all.
Wouldn’t it be cool to change the unemployment rate, homeless population and budget shortfalls with the touch of a button? “Dear Sata . . . ”
