Santa says, “Ho! Ho! Ho!” – despite no snow

By Katherine R. Dougan

As our loyal Clinton Courier readers know, Santa and I have been BFFs for years.

For Courier Santa stories, I’ve interviewed the wizened old elf while trotting alongside his sleigh at a parade, while taking a star-filled wild night ride in his jet-powered sleigh, and via a satellite phone when Santa called me from space.

Not only do I get one-on-one time with the Big Man in Red every year, but, also, he sometimes reveals a secret that Clinton Courier readers learn when they read the story.
This year, he called me just before Thanksgiving, when we were having yet another bout of warm weather. He caught me in a somewhat stinky mood, which caused him to say:
“Ho, ho, ho! Why you got your drawers in a bundle, Kathy?”

“It’s the weather!” I exclaimed.
Allow me to explain. I hail from further north than here. I have lived in the Deep South since 1997, moving to Mississippi in 2001, so I know we don’t get much snow down here, especially on Christmas.

When we got a few days of blessed cooler temperatures the week before Thanksgiving, I looked at snowy scenes posted on Facebook and elsewhere with sheer envy. I understand snow is inconvenient, slippery, covers roads and is sometimes treacherous. However, it is beautiful, cold, crisp and makes me feel like a kid again. So always, when there’s a hint of a chill in the air and Christmas grows near, I fervently wish for snow.

Santa pondered a moment, a gloved finger to his temple, I’m sure, then declared, “You have ‘Snow Envy.’”

Evidently, it’s a thing, as I Googled “snow envy” to see what turned up. I found punctuation guidelines for using “snow envy,” which can be followed by a comma or a period, so the post read. And the term applies to people like me, who truly love and miss snow.

Santa says he doesn’t have snow envy, but he admits he enjoys colder weather and snow – a lot.

Think about it: The guy is layered in a big, furry suit, fluffy velvet robes, a big ol’ hat, gloves and a scarf – the works. I figure it is horribly hot in that getup, but Santa won’t admit that.
Instead, he reminds me that, as high as he flies, it is wonderfully crisp and cold, and he gets to fly through a lot of snow – beautiful, sparkly, magical SNOW. And, since he gets lots of snow at the North Pole, he offers no encouragement for my snow fantasies.

Neither does the National Weather Service, as the scientists and experts predict rain for Christmas. Bah, Humbug!

So, I consulted a weather prediction source that’s been around since 1818 and claims an eighty percent accuracy at predicting the weather: The Farmers’ Almanac.

My family, originally from Scotland, according to genealogy records, planted roots in southern Indiana in the 1800s as farmers, with some of my family still operating farms there.
I can’t speak for the generations before my Granny and Grandpa, however, I know my Granny planted by the moon, as dictated by The Farmers’ Almanac. I particularly recall my Uncle Galen grumbling, out of earshot of Granny, about tilling still-frozen ground because the Almanac said it was time to plant.

Flipping through the Almanac, I found “Twenty Signs of a Cold, Harsh Winter.” One of the signs was the “early departure of ducks and geese.” I’ve swerved around a gaggle or two on my street, so I went out in the front yard (on December 1) and spotted three geese, up on the hilltop waddling down the street.

The Almanac also mentions inspecting the orange band around a woolly worm. If it is thin, then cold weather is predicted. I did go out in the backyard and look around, but found no wooly worms. I admit I didn’t look very hard. I am on deadline for this story, after all.

I am currently working on ending my snow envy, as I mentally prepare myself for no snow on Christmas.

However, as promised, here’s the secret Santa revealed to me.

“Boxers or briefs?” I queried.

“Neither,” Santa replied. “EEEWW,” I thought; then Santa explained.

He wears a one-piece red union suit, with a drop down back flap, under all that fancy Santa garb. This makes sense. Kids, if you don’t know what a union suit is, ask your parents (or grandparents).

And for you all, I wish you a marvelous, festive holiday season.

I’m still keeping my fingers crossed for snow.