Letter To Santa Claus Is Dead Research Paper

Santa Claus is dead. We have collectively dismantled him with our cynicism.

At eight-years-old, I could not assimilate the Nietzsche-esque “God is dead” prognosis. I stubbornly wanted to believe Santa and his workforce of elves could conclude moral justice and realize childhood dreams.

Equipped with the rudimentary artistic skills and creative faculties of a stubborn child, I set out to prove jolly Saint Nick existed. My annual letter to Santa quickly evolved into an elaborate quiz, eliciting responses only Santa could answer. I wanted signatures, illustrations, diagrams, and flowcharts. I wanted proof of life! All the while I was questioning existential philosophy, my mother and father were probably questioning the origin of this precocious offspring.

For an eight-year-old child, this was a disturbing revelation. Not only did I realize that flying reindeer defied physical principles, but I also sensed my creative spirit waning. This new world was all about logical reasoning. Cause and effect. I was immersed into a pre-teenaged reality—an emerging world of social judgement and arbitrary moral values. Failure and uniqueness was met with ridicule; ambition was met with trepidation. The days of wild childhood fantasies were gone. After all, how could imagination exist in a world that demands logic and reasoning?

I slowly realized that the answer had been apparent throughout my life. Reason and logic are not the outcome, but rather the tools used to explore our imagination. I did not need to look far for evidence of its coexistence. I discovered the same nexus of values were instilled in me by my parents. I realized my parents weren’t scrutinizing my origin, but instead it was the recognition of their reflection in