Santa Cruz Claus
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Talk to strangers.
Sure, our parents told us to avoid doing so, and odds are you tell your kinder in kind. Keeping kids away from kinkos is quite kosher. But we adults should engage strangers as often as possible, breaking beyond “have a nice day” and into “tell me about your life.”
Unexpected whimsy may ensue.
This came to mind last weekend while strolling out a long wharf in the surfing capital of Santa Cruz, California, a place so laid back that weed heads seem antsy by contrast to the locals (and truth be told, most Santa Cruz citizens have ganja with their morning granola). At the base of the abbreviated bridge was a vendor peddling hot dogs, soda and his own CDs. His attire was somewhere between tropical and topical, and most impressively this long time and long-in-the-tooth Santa Cruz squatter looked a bit like Santa Claus, sporting a manicured white beard that had a life and mind of its own. I forget what topic of conversation I or my new fiancée angled, but it started mutual story telling about people in general and Santa Claus look-alikes in particular.
He spoke of a day when he was at his station, sliding dogs and suds out to passers-by. Coming up from the beach was a family, kids in tow, most looking like typical slow-motion, hang-faced tourist. The exception was a little girl, arms akimbo as if in flight, which she likely was in her mind’s theater. When she got close to the vendor and noticed his more-than-passing resemblance to Saint Nick, she said “I got the bicycle and it is perfect!” before strolling past as if nothing unusual had transpired, and evidentially believing that Santa needed to earn a little pocket change in the off season.
Talk to strangers, especially if you are a writer and need to steal good material.
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