The Santa Claus Book
They say it is better to give than to receive, but I’ve never been too sure of that. Until, perhaps, yesterday.
Every day is a gift, of course, but yesterday was a "Santa Claus Book."
In my family, that’s a technical term. It started decades ago when, as a young boy, my grandfather—my mom’s dad—gave his sister, my Aunt Eleanor, a book about Santa Claus for Christmas. It was a lovely gesture, except for one detail: he gave it to her because he was the one who wanted to read it. Since then, "The Santa Claus Book" has become our family shorthand for any gift you give someone else because, deep down, you’re the one who wants it.
Fast forward to this past Christmas. I gave an odd gift to Tommy, whom I’ve known since the day he was born: an empty wine bottle and a link to a Google Doc. Having known me his whole life, he’s well aware that my gifts often come with "strings" attached—or at least a set of instructions. I learned this from his grandmother, Martha, who was like a second mother to me, so I come by the complexity honestly.
The Google Doc told the story of that empty bottle. It was an article I’d written about a friend who has carved out a beautifully unusual life—a life I thought might be intriguing to Tommy as he navigates his own path. The "strings" were these: the real gift wasn't the empty bottle, but a full one to be shared later, and a sit-down meeting to hear the story in person.
That meeting happened yesterday.
But here is the truth: it was a total Santa Claus Book.
The real gift, it turns out, was for me. The real gift was the quiet, almost selfish delight I felt sitting there, soaking in the conversation as these people I love met for the first time. Watching those worlds collide in the best way filled me with so much joy I could barely contain it. To add to the magic, we met at another friend’s restaurant—an amazing human who makes incredible food.
Now, don’t mistake this for nobility. I am not one of those people who inherently prefers giving over receiving. I am a huge fan of being the recipient of a great gift. I love the surprise, the unwrapping, and the simple act of being thought of. I love to receive.
But yesterday reminded me of the specific case of the Santa Claus Book. Sometimes, the best way to get exactly what you want—a table full of connection, a shared bottle of wine, and the sight of people you love finding each other—is to "give" it to someone else.
I sat there yesterday, watching everyone talk, and realized I had given them exactly what I needed: a reminder that a great way to cultivate the "stillness within" is to share it. When there is no rush. When there is nowhere else to be. When there are good friends, good food, and an abundance of delight.
