Life, 1915-12-02 · page 62 of 100
Life — December 2, 1915 — page 62: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This Christmas fantasy satirizes World War I's impact on society. Santa Claus appears anxious and pale—he's converted his factories to munitions production, abandoning gift-giving because he believes destroying armies will achieve peace fastest. Unable to bring joy, Santa reverses his mission: instead of delivering wanted gifts, he offers to remove unwanted things—worries, embarrassments, nuisances, and trials. The narrator enthusiastically endorses this as "the grandest thing." The satire targets how wartime disrupted civilian life and commercial normalcy. It mocks both the promised benefits of military spending ("the quickest way to peace") and society's desperate hope that at least *something* positive might emerge from the conflict's devastation. The empty sack symbolizes what Christmas—and normal life—has become during the war.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Christmas Life A Visit from Santa Claus A Christmas Fantasy HERE was a rustling sound in the vicinity cf my fireplace, a slight fall of soot, and Santa Claus stood before me. He was pale, and seemed somewhat anxious and wor- ried. “Hello, old boy,” said I, rising and holding out my hand in greet- ing. “How's everything? Mighty glad to see you” He smiled wistfully and breathed a deep sigh of relief. “T—I'm glad,” he said, warmly returning the pressure of my hand. “T was afraid—I was afraid you wouldn't be.” “ Afraid I wouldn't be glad to see you, my dear old friend?” I cried. “T feared perhaps you might not approve of my new scheme,” said he. “Well,” said I, with a chuckle, “maybe I don’t—I can’t tell until T know what your new scheme is. If it's yours, though, I am prepared to say it's a hundred to one that it’s all right.” “Well, you see,” he began hesi- tatingly—“ you sce things have gone so wretchedly with the world for the past eighteen months that I haven't been able to prepare any gifts for anybody. My factories have all been turned over to the manufacturers of munitions of war. It seemed to be the quickest way to peace—the sooner the armies are destroyed the sooner there will be nobody left to fight, and peace will be bound to come. And so—" He paused and eyed me anxiously. “Go on,” said I. “I am mightily interested.” “And so,” he went on, “I have reversed my scheme. Instead of bringing people things they want this Christmas, I have come with an empty sack to take away the things they don’t want. It is noth- ing but the ancient plan turned other end to, If because of circumstances over which I exercise no control 1 cannot bring joy, I can at least take away worries, embarrassments, nuis- ances, and trials,” “By Jove, Santa Claus,” I cried enthusiastically, “ you are a genius! Why, my dear old boy, that idea is the grandest thing under the sun the world has been ing for all these years. Do you—do you really mean it?” “T do, indeed,” he answered, his face lighting up with pleasure. “Here is my sack to prove it, and I have a million more of ’em out in the sleigh if this isn’t big enough to hold the swag.” PAUL GOOLO Ccomicbooks.com