Christmas is coming, in case you haven't noticed. And however cynical we may be, we must also acknowledge that the season brings out the best in people. A fact I was reminded of on Tuesday night while watching The Sopranos, the series about the New Jersey Mafia.
As fans of the programme will know, Tony Soprano and his friends are tough individuals. Underneath the hard exterior, however, they are also genuinely vicious psychopaths. But somewhere under that again is a small area devoted to sentiment. And this was to the fore in the latest episode, as the gang sought a suitable person to play Santa Claus at its annual party for underprivileged children.
Inevitably, thoughts turned to Christmases past, and a former colleague, Sal "Big Pussy" Bompensiero. A natural Santa, Pussy had the girth for the job, but he also had a real affinity with children, not to mention a professional-standard "Ho Ho Ho". Sadly, as the mobsters reflect, Pussy is not available this year because, several episodes back, they had to shoot him. Christmas is saved, however, when Bobby Bacala is persuaded to take on the role, in a deal whereby he gets to keep the use of his legs.
All this sentimentality could have been cloying yet, somehow, it wasn't. But the programme got me thinking about the whole meaning of Santa Claus. By coincidence, also Tuesday, I had visited Santa's Kingdom, the theme park near Naas, which despite high prices and criticism has been a huge commercial success. How was it, I wondered, that a Laplander in a bad suit came to exert such a hold on all our imaginations? Well, as you probably know, it was far from Lapland he was born. Indeed, religion aside, the only thing the modern Christmas has in common with the ancient one is Turkey, where the original St Nicholas was a 4th-century bishop. Rich and generous, he was famous for his presents to children, and thus a tradition was born on his December 6th feast-day.
The Mediterranean climate would explain Santa's joie de vivre, not to mention his obvious love of food. Yet down the centuries, the myth migrated north, stopping off in the Netherlands, where St Nicholas became Sinterklaas, before eventually travelling all the way to the North Pole. Following some revisionism in the 1920s - perhaps based on the fear that, with improved education, the world's children would soon cop that there was no grazing for reindeer on the polar ice-caps - Santa headed back south, settling at Korvatunturi, near Finland's Arctic circle.
Not for the first time, it appears the Scandinavians stole a march on the rest of Europe. Sure, we all know they have superior childcare arrangements, of which the saint would approve. They also have a near-monopoly on European snow, which has somehow become vital to the idea of Christmas. But how a jolly red-faced man from the Aegean coast ended up trapped in a nation of pale, thin, ultra-reserved Lutherans is a mystery.
For one thing, from New Jersey to New Guinea, much of the world is now in thrall to an idea of Christmas that bears no relation to local weather conditions. People in the southern hemisphere send Christmas cards with snow scenes before eating dinner on the beach, picking warm sand out of their turkey. It is surely only a matter of time before Australian revisionists relocate Santa, at least to the South Pole.
Which brings me to my point. The Santa's Kingdom project is apparently the first of its kind outside Finland. It seems not even the Americans, who have a theme park for everything else, thought of it. This is a triumph for Irish enterprise (the promoters are already planning to export the idea), and it should set the Government thinking.
The Santa tradition is still relatively fluid. I note from his Finnish website, for example, that as recently as 1985 Santa "opened an office" at Rovaniemi, to which tourists now flock. "Ho Ho Ho" indeed! But it's not too late for Ireland to grab a piece of the Santa action, before the EU legislates to protect Finland's exclusive claims. After all, we have more jolly, fat, red-faced men here than all of Scandinavia combined. Santa could easily have Irish relatives - everybody else has. And to cut a long project proposal short, he could spend a "traditional" holiday with them every year. I'm thinking a folk village, maybe in Donegal.
In deference to younger readers, I realise Santa's feelings would have to be taken into account in all of this. Which is why I believe he should be fully consulted on the plan. But I'm confident he can be persuaded to come on board. And if not, we'll just make him an offer he can't refuse.
fmcnally@irish-times.ie
