"I did ask a few people to be there" and collect signatures, said Leone Schneidewend, chairperson of the Shawano County Democrats. "But the majority were there on their own."
"Wasn't this a Christmas parade?" I asked of the event that took place on Dec. 2.
"It is a Christmas parade," she said. "Actually, what they call it is the Santa Claus parade." After that there is a walk in the downtown area called the Holiday Stroll.
Schneidewend wanted to talk about stuff other than the parade, which is similar to ones held all across the state around this time of year. She criticized Scott Walker for referring to the state's "holiday tree" as a "Christmas tree" — which caused me to ask if she thought it was appropriate for protesters at the Capitol the other day to turn their backs as he flipped on the tree's lights.
Even she seemed to concede that was not a nice thing to do. Not really in keeping, you might say, with the holiday spirit of showing good will to all men at this time of year — even those of a different political persuasion you might eventually succeed in ousting. At the same time, she saw absolutely nothing wrong with politicizing the Christmas parade in Shawano by collecting signatures.
I am going to reveal a long hidden secret I have never shared with anyone concerning Santa’s visits. The Walton Circle house had a nice fireplace in the living room complete with chimney on the roof for Santa to slide down. There was one glitch to this mode of entry: there was a metal flue just inside the fireplace which could be opened when there was a fire. When it was closed, it sealed the inside of the fireplace. As a child, I knew Santa would have no trouble slipping down the chimney but when he got to that metal door, there was no way he could gain entry into the living room. One Christmas Eve 60-odd years ago, my father found me in tears as I sat on top of the logs inside the fireplace looking up toward the flue. When questioned as to my distress, I told him how discouraged I was Santa could not gain entrance to the living room and leave what I was hoping for. Pulling me on his lap, in his gentle way, he explained to me Santa had a “special key” which allowed him to gain access to every house on his list to visit that night. “Not to worry”, my father said as he quietly soothed away my fears, “Santa will use his special key and you will be happily surprised in the morning. Now isn’t it time for you to be going to bed?”
As always true to his word, on Christmas morning as I made my way to the living room, Santa had been that night and even left a plate of crumbs and an empty Coke bottle on top of the logs in the fireplace to let me know he was able to gain access to the house. After that fretful Christmas Eve, I never again worried about Santa’s ability to make his appointed rounds ... chimney or no chimney.
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