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Behest of the West: Hark, the clutches of Santa’s claws are harrowing

I believe I may soon be painted the colour of comeuppance.
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Two-year-old twin sisters Clover, left, and Crimson were too enamoured with their pancakes to put much thought into what to ask Santa for. (Photo - Andrew Bailey)

Santa has never been more terrifying.

Throughout my life, three specific and inexplicable fears have triggered my amygdala’s flight-mode: clowns, the number nine and broken glass.

The reasons for that particular trifecta of terror are far too personal and nonsensical to be noteworthy. What is important, is that a fourth member is creeping towards the list that I’m starting to think will dwarf them all. To quote Jack Skeleton, “They call him Sandy Claws.”

I carted my kids to Santa’s lap twice this month. The holiday spirit is a tornado I enjoy being swept into.

Crimson and Clover are too adorable to see beyond the pageantry of it all. Their two-year-old eyes saw pancakes put, and cut, in front of them, which stirred up more than enough delight, especially when chased by the bask of infinitely swooning and gleefully shrieking adults snapping endless photos of their happy faces.

Junior though, is four and, when it comes to Santa Claus, that age-group is a whole new ballgame. He loves pancakes as much as his sisters, but he’s connected dots they haven’t figured out yet. This Santa cat grants wishes.

He met Santa politely and smiled for the camera each time, but neither Tofino or Ucluelet’s visit was a social one. His sisters soaked up the pleasure. He was there on business. An assignment was tasked. Clear direction was given. His request was soundly delivered and the hope on his face was palpable.

I’m not saying Santa won’t come through, but, if you read this column regularly, you know I have a complicated relationship with that so-called elf due to a Nintendo that never came.

I’m all too familiar with the tears my mom lived through each year that one thing I’d asked Santa for didn’t appear under the tree. I believe I may soon be painted the colour of comeuppance.

I’ll either have a heroic song of victory or sorrowful sob-story of defeat to share with you soon.

You won’t hear it next week though. This is your last Westerly News of 2017.

We’ll be nestled far too deep in good tidings to submit any pages for your perusal on Dec. 27. News has knack for never stopping however, so holiday elves tip-toeing into our office to throw an update or two onto our website or Facebook page now and then is a sound investment for your bottom dollar.

Thank you for reading and thank you more for making it so fantastically easy for your local news crew to find fascinating stories to share.

Interesting people living in interesting communities during interesting times had us working in an open-bar of inspiring delight in 2017.

We’re blessed you invited us to it.

Merry Christmas West Coast. See you next year.



Andrew Bailey

About the Author: Andrew Bailey

I arrived at the Westerly News as a reporter and photographer in January 2012.
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