by Robert Cerrone

Every Christmas Eve, we all know Santa takes flight in his reindeer-driven sleigh and delivers presents to homes all over the world. But what if you aren’t at home? What if this year, you or your loved one are spending the holidays in a hospital bed? Will Santa be able to find you? 

       For those patients at John C. Lincoln–North Mountain Hospital, the answer is “Yes.”

December 2007 will mark the 30th year that a gentleman in the guise of Santa Claus will bring his special brand of holiday cheer—along with his bag of teddy bears and Hot Wheels toy cars—to John C. Lincoln’s patients. Since he began his deliveries three decades ago, this anonymous Santa has visited seven different hospitals and seen more than 22,000 people, one at a time.

“A patient’s room is a private place and for me it’s a privilege to be there,” he says. “I get to spend a few moments with them on their journey and I hope I have made some small impact.”

Santa began his visits 30 years ago when a close friend was in the hospital. He thought perhaps he would lighten his friend’s spirits by visiting him in his room, dressed as Santa. The visit was so successful that the following year, he dressed up again and visited more rooms of other patients—and it just grew from there.

“Sometimes I go into a room and the patient is sleeping or is unresponsive, so I give my gift to a family member who seems to have the most need for it,” he says.  “Shakespeare says life is a stage and we are merely actors on it. I get to be the same guy every year, but the stage is always different. Every time I walk into a room, it is completely different from the last room.”

It’s not always easy for Santa. “I’ve gone into rooms where someone had just had a limb amputated, and the patient would look at my bag and say ‘Santa, the doctors took my leg, do you have a leg in there for me?’ It’s really hard to look at them and not feel like you want to do more,” says Santa.

It’s evident this Santa has made his mark in the lives of patients.

“I went into one lady’s room,” he recalls,  “and she was all curled up in her bed. I knelt down and offered her one of my bears. She said that she could not take it because every year she sends toys to needy children through her church and because she was hospitalized, the kids wouldn’t get their toys. I said to her ‘Ma’am, if I guarantee that I will have 50 bears down at your church for the kids, will you take this bear for you?’ She took the bear, and before the end of the day I had 50 bears at her church for the kids.”

But 2007 will be Santa’s final year of delivering his gifts to patients in his various hospitals. He’s looking to pass his mantle to someone else, but it is not an easy task.

“It’s fulfilling,” he says, “but it’s not fun. We don’t celebrate and pat ourselves on the back.”

Usually he doesn’t even know what happens to the toys he hands out, whether patients keep them or throw them away. But that’s OK, he says. He asks for no reward, no recognition for what he does. “We’re just looking for a smile,” he says, “and if the patient smiles, we’ve done our job.”