What’s it like to be Santa? One of North Carolina’s own explains.
Let’s start this off with a disclaimer: If your kids are excited about the prospect of Santa Claus delivering a sackful of presents to your home a little less than a month from now, you probably want to make sure that they’re not going to read this.
In other words, anyone who believes in Saint Nick might want to move on to the next story, right now.
Because we’re about to take you behind the curtain ...
... to meet Tim McBride, a 64-year-old semi-retired Monroe grandfather who has spent a good deal of time over the past several holiday seasons wearing a big red suit and listening to small children reel off their Christmas lists on the way to becoming one of the area’s more sought-after Santas-for-hire.
Ever wondered how a guy who plays Santa becomes a guy who plays Santa in the first place? In McBride’s case, that’s a pretty funny story. But he also has relatively sad stories, too, about kids he wished he could have done more for. And along the way, he’s fulfilled some rather unusual requests for parents who hire him, while developing a thoughtful rationale for avoiding work as a mall Santa.
This is one man’s experience as a make-believe Santa Claus, as told to the Observer in his own words (edited for clarity and brevity).
’Twas the night before...
It all happened by mistake. I’m a streak runner, so I run every day. Well, on Christmas Eve in 2011, I was getting ready to run, and — since I coached baseball in this area for a long time, and since some of the guys I had coached had grandmothers in some local nursing homes here in Monroe — I thought, Hey, I’m gonna plan my route out, and I’ll go by and visit their grandmothers.
My wife, Debby, packed some little goodies I could take. And it was typical North Carolina winter weather on Christmas Eve Day, warmer, so I had shorts and a T-shirt on. I put a little cinch bag on my back, and she goes, “Hey, why don’t you wear a Santa hat?”
Now, back then, I usually grew a beard or a goatee each winter. I didn’t let it get long. That year, I’d grown a real short goatee. It didn’t even occur to me that I might look like Santa. But the very first nursing home I went in, I was walking down the hall and this little lady said, “There’s Santa!”
I’m thinking somebody’s coming in behind me. So I moved to the side to get out of the way, but I’m the only person in the hall.
I went home and I told Debby, “Next time, I’ll grow a beard.”
The next year, I did the same Christmas Eve run with a real short beard, and in one of the nursing homes I went to, this little fella — he was probably about 90 years old — came up to me, patted me on the back, he said, “You’d be an OK Santa, but you need to let your beard grow.”
So when I came home, I said, “Hey, I’m not gonna shave for a year, and we’ll see what my Christmas Eve run will look like.”
My wife and my son both said, “No way.” Because my son was getting married that year. They said, “You can’t come to the wedding looking like ‘Duck Dynasty.’” Well, he got married in July, and at the end of July I started growing my beard.
When I ran that year on Christmas Eve, which was 2013, I had on a red sweatshirt, shorts, and my little Santa hat — and cars were stopping and asking to take pictures with me. Pictures with Santa.
Then a friend of mine here in Monroe who’s a photographer, she asked me could I get ahold of a Santa suit, because her Santa wasn’t gonna be able to do it that year. It was just a one-day job, so I said, “Sure, I’ll find something.”
She said, “How much do you charge?”
I said, “I don’t know anything about charging for Santa.” But I do raise money for a couple different charities, and that year I was raising money for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society, so I said, “Hey, just tell ’em to make a donation to LLS.”
Again, I thought it was gonna be a one-day job. Well, when she posted some pictures on social media, people started contacting her saying, “Hey, is your Santa available?”
I’ve not shaved it since.
The magic of Christmas
I run, but I also eat too much. Debby and I were running on the beach one year, probably August. I had on shorts and my running shoes, nothing else, and we’re running, and I see this little girl. She looks like she’s 4 or 5 years old, and she’s digging in the sand, probably about a couple hundred yards ahead of us. She keeps looking at me while we’re running toward her. Even though it was summer, I knew what she was thinking, because of my big beard.
So I stopped right when I got to her and I said, “I’m out here checking on boys and girls.” And she screams, “Mom! I told you it was him!” We ended up having pictures made. I’m standing there with her, with no shirt on, sweaty, and she’s getting her picture taken with Santa.
Then we go on running down the beach, and I look at Debby and I say, “Do I really look that fat?”
There’s just something about the magic of Christmas. When you see a kid’s eyes light up.
There are a few sad things, though. I do deal kids who are involved with cancer charities, and boy, that just rips a hole in your heart. Because a lot of times a sibling is gonna say, “Can you make my brother or sister well?” That just makes you hurt. Then I’ve had kids sit on my lap and say, “Can you get my mom and dad to love each other again?”
All I can do is tell them I’m sorry they’re going through that, and if God means it to be, it’ll be. I don’t really know a good answer. Maybe hug that kid a little bit closer.
It’s hard, too, when kids ask for stuff and you know they can’t get it. When kids have a list like five miles long and you know the family is having trouble financially.
But in general, like I said, there’s just something the magic of Christmas when it comes to kids. You see these smiles, you see the eyes sparkle, a little kid will just hug on you — and the kids say some funny things. Some of the things kids ask for, I mean, they crack me up.
And I’ll be honest with you, when we ride around in the Christmas parade in Monroe, a lot of adults’ eyes light up, too.
You wouldn’t believe how many adults wanna sit on Santa’s lap. They’ll say, “I haven’t had a picture with Santa in 40 years or 50 years,” and I always tell them, “Well, that means you’ve been on the naughty list for quite awhile!”
Parents aren’t afraid to ask for exactly what they want either. I had a situation one year where a lady called and said, “My child’s not behaving. Will you just come by the house and knock on the door? I’ll have her open it, and I just want you to tell her she’s gotta behave, and ‘I’m watching you.’”
Well, when I knock on the door, I hear the mom tell the little girl to open the door. And the door had that like leaded glass, where you can’t see through real good and everything’s distorted. So the little girl just runs up to the door and just stops, sees this big red blob through leaded glass, and just panics and runs the other way.
She would not touch the door. It’s almost like she knew. I think her mom had threatened her with calling Santa and here Santa was, at the door.
Another year a lady hired me to come to her house on Christmas Eve. She said, “You don’t have to say a word. I want you to just come in, the kids will be asleep, we’ll wake them up, and you’ll be putting the gifts out. I just want them to see it.”
She said, “When I grew up, my dad was an officer in the Marines. So we moved constantly. The only tradition we really had was on Christmas Eve, my dad would hire some young Marine to dress up as Santa, put a fake beard on, and we would look down over the bannister and Santa would be putting gifts out.”
And when I got there that night, her dad — the grandfather of these kids — was hidden around the corner ready to film it all. So I bring all these gifts in, put them out, and there’s cookies and milk there, and I can hear the kids at the bannister.
And the little girl said, “Hi, Santa.”
I said, “Hey,” and her name. And I said hey to the little boy, who was at that age where it’s like, “Is Santa real or not?” And when I said his name, it was like a deer in the headlights. I mean, Santa is real.
Mall Santas don’t get to have unique experiences. To me, it’s an assembly line. You know, you’ve got such a short time with each child.
I like connecting with the kids. Just as one example, there’s this little boy who’s 6 I saw recently, and his dad asked him, “How many years have we taken pictures with Santa?” And he said, “Seven.” The dad said, “Well, you’re only 6.” Then the boy said, “But remember, one year I was zero.”
He was right: I’ve seen that little boy every year for seven years. And it’s so cool to watch these kids grow up. I probably wouldn’t get to do that in a mall. Also, I’ve got time to sit there and talk with them. We’re not in a rush.
Plus, all the different photographers I work with, everybody does something different. Different locations — like sometimes I’ll go do “Summer Santa” photo shoots on the beach — and different concepts.
Teaming up with Mrs. Claus
And it’s a family affair: My wife, Debby, has been joining me as Mrs. Claus for the past five years. The first time, it was because a friend from church who has a 1918 replica Model T with the rumble seat in the back asked her to dress up with me so he could drive us around Monroe in it.
Then she started dressing up and going with me to the houses of a couple of the folks who we’ve met through my running races in support of different cancer charities. Now she joins me whenever she’s not tied up at work.
But she cheats: Hers is a wig. Mine’s real.
We’d love to do it as a full-time job year-round. We were even joking the other day, if somebody would buy a bed and breakfast and make it a Christmas theme for year-round, we’d be perfect.
Because not only can we be Santa and Mrs. Claus, but my wife’s a gourmet cook — and I can mow the grass.
This story was originally published November 26, 2021 at 2:21 PM with the headline "What’s it like to be Santa? One of North Carolina’s own explains.."
