It’s possible that using a BB gun to shoot mistletoe from the treetops was a bad idea, I’ll admit that.
(An uncommonly good idea is born, but Part 1 of this story shows the difficulties of gathering the necessary mistletoe from the forest.)
During the stark December days of the year 1990, my big idea of selling packaged mistletoe for the holidays was freshly brewing in my head, and it was probably the best holiday scheme I’d ever hatched.
The Mistletoe Business
It was to be the year that I would finally get my share of the Christmas cash that was usually tossed so carelessly to that greedy elf Santa, and with a bunch of nicely packaged, well-presented baggies full of sentimental holiday spirit-- some genuine mistletoe-- I was at last going to be able to earn some of that green holiday money with my new business about to be underway.
The very idea of jolly old Santa ho ho ho-ing around town in his company sleigh-- leering down everyone’s chimneys and getting all of the holiday cheer while I scraped and starved through another grueling Christmas-- that vision was also dancing in my head as I sketched out my new holiday business plan.
Santa Isn’t Real
There’s no such thing as Santa Claus. Why then, did I have so much trouble with this made-up character?
It was probably because he was such a complete lie! The parents invariably present the idea of Santa to the children, and are then obliged to run out and purchase enough toys, treats and filler gifts to sustain that Santa illusion, deceiving their own families and creating distrust in the household using this insidious elfin sorcery year after year.
Santa gets all the credit for our genuine human kindness and generosity towards the innocent children, while the lying parents are forced into financial debt trying to make up for that deadbeat elf’s absence on Christmas morning.
A New Business Partner
My visions of sugarplums and evil elves vanished with a knock at the door; it was my friend Bing, and he walked in with a curious glance at my new drawing. “New band poster?”
Bing was a massive guy with a boyish round face and a classic rock head of hair, and he had arrived just in time to hear all about my new holiday scheme, ‘Project Mistletoe’.
Project Mistletoe
I quickly described my new holiday scheme, each step of it making Bing’s face light up a bit more:
We find a short tree, one that is laden with mistletoe.
We gather said mistletoe-- but only a bushel or two.
We package it up, and sell it door-to-door in the rich neighborhoods.
We dress like elves so that people will presume that we are official Santa’s helpers.
Bing’s face changed a great deal on that last one, and we decided that the elf costumes would be a little weird. Everything else though, Bing agreed, was the formula for some sweet holiday cash, and he was ready to rock. We set out to find some fresh mistletoe that very instant.
A Ride in Bing’s Red Sleigh
There must have been some magic in that old red Pontiac that Bing roared around in, because when we drove down Highway 300 for just a few minutes, we saw a broad old tree in the middle of a cow pasture, laden with mistletoe just as I’d planned.
”It’s laden!” sounded funny when I yelled it out, but there was our mistletoe tree, and we quickly turned around and parked on a wide gravel spot along the highway. The pasture was soft, and within a few minutes we were covered in mud, but the load of mistletoe that we carried back to Bing’s Pontiac meant that we were now in the business for real.
Door-to-Door
So it was that the very next evening, Bing and I drove into a fancy neighborhood loaded with bags of foliage-- probably completely legal-- and stepped out into the rich evening air. The lights and elaborate holiday decor there on Pleasant Valley Boulevard suggested that we were in the right place.
We thought it would be best to stick together, and so I crossed the street to work the far side, while Bing would ring the doorbells across from me, and we would meet at the end of the block.
I pressed the first doorbell, and realized what I had forgotten: a good sales pitch. I couldn’t expect to just stand there and let the mistletoe sell itself! What would I say?
The door opened a tiny crack, and I stuttered, “hee- uh hell... uh...”
The door snapped shut. I was suddenly shaking, and as I walked to the next house, a deep rush of fear swept over me. I’d come all this way with my fantastic scheme, only to spit hee- uh hell... uh through the slats of a louvered storm door at some frightened homeowner.
I was genuinely relieved when nobody answered the door at the next three houses, and instead of approaching the last house on my side, I waited for Bing to reach the end of the block for a progress assessment.
Bing was a big guy, as I mentioned. I could see him and his black leather jacket lurch past the streetlight on his side of the street, ducking out of the light like a criminal, and I could hear him laughing as he approached the rendezvous point.
”So the lady opens the door just a crack and says ‘who is it?’ and I say ‘A man selling mistletoe!’ and she slammed the door.”
A Man Selling Mistletoe!
Riding back to my workshop, Bing was mostly silent, aside from the occasional “A man selling mistletoe” followed by sad laughter and deep sighs all around.
Santa really does sound a lot like satan doesn’t it? And that red suit and all, I dunno. Tis the season to wonder about such things, I suppose.
Was Santa an elf, was he human, or inhuman? Those are the questions that I might ask, but a child can’t be expected to ask such things, and can’t be bothered with the holidays so near. If only the truth could be told, what a better world it would be, and a much happier holiday for all, and to all a good night.
Twas a week or two before Christmas, and I could imagine a child’s voice; “Is Santa a bad person, daddy?” and the reply, “Yes, dear. Yes he is.” was the responsible, honest answer.
All images, art and photos here are mine
