The Legend of HoHo

I won’t name names, but many readers will know exactly who I’m talking about. I hope those who recognize him will take a moment to thank him.

My friend and I have much in common, including four wonderful adult children, three girls and one boy each. His son is the youngest, mine is the oldest, his oldest daughter is called Meghan, my youngest is called Meghan. Each of us agree that we’ve been blessed by the most wonderful gift – strong, successful children who love their mothers.

Each of us told our children outrageous stories when they were young, in particular wild Christmas legends. In both cases, these legends grew out of spur of the moment madness.

In the case of the Legend of HoHo, it simply happened that one Christmas afternoon, long after regular gifts had been opened and turkey eaten, Dad announced that there were further gifts, left not by Santa, but by HoHo. As it happened, HoHo left his gifts in an old appliance box, under the basement stairs.

With shrieks of joy, the kids raced to the basement to find that, sure enough, Dad was right, and the box was there, full of gifts that seemed to have a particularly “Dad” aura about them. And, of course, Dad chuckled and basked in the glow.

Except that next December, the kids began to ask if HoHo would show up again. Now Dad was on the hook. Yes, HoHo would come around, but this time it wouldn’t be so simple.

This year Dad didn’t have a clue where HoHo’s gifts were to be found, but as it happened, a note with instructions was found under the turkey platter after dinner. After something resembling a scavenger hunt, HoHo’s trove was found, to much glee.

Now the game was on. The following year, clues to clues were left, and the bulk of Christmas afternoon was spent tracking down HoHo’s hidden treasures. And thus it went, year after year, the clues and the hunts becoming ever more complex.

Of course the kids grew older, and no longer believed in Santa Claus, but to my friend’s dismay, his adolescent and college-age children continued to demand that HoHo make an appearance. Finally, after all the children were grown and HoHo had been forced to climb onto the roof of the house in the dark to hide the box of goodies, a truce was called, and Dad was let off the hook.

I tell this story in part out of admiration for my friend’s ingenuity and love of family, and in part to salute Dads and parents universal. Not only for their love and sacrifice for their kids, but for exposing children to dreams and zaniness and imagination and laughter.

For it’s in the legends and the memories that children sink deep roots which stabilize and nourish them for a lifetime.