There is a tradition round these parts and I’m trying to find out how widespread it is. Every Christmas Santa jumps on the back of a fire truck and visits all the neighborhoods in town. The truck or trucks drive up and down the streets slowly with their lights and sirens on. Children are welcome to come out and say hi to Santa and they will usually be given a candy cane. This usually occurs the week before Christmas around dinner time when everyone is home. I have lived in three towns in New Jersey in three different counties and this happens in each one. They add a little extra where I live now. The fire truck pulls a sleigh containing both Santa and Mrs Claus. If it makes a difference, in all the places I have had a home there were volunteer fire departments.
It happened in my neighborhood in a Buffalo, NY suburb - but Santa was waving from the firetruck, there was no sleigh being pulled. This was a volunteer fire department, yes. I don’t know if he had candy canes, because by the time I’d have suited up for outside he’d be long gone. We just waved from the living room window. It was very very cool - and probably even more fun for the fire guys!
I was single and living in an upstairs flat above 2 businesses (closed for the holiday) accross the street from the ocean (A1A, Oceanshore Blvd.) It’s about 8 a.m. I wake up after a night of partying with friends, make a cup of coffee, and go wander out onto my balcony. Christmas morning and I have nowhere to be until noon. It’s extremely foggy, the ocean is very calm, and it’s eerily quiet out. No traffic either direction on A1A. No neighbors outside.
Then, coming up the side street to the left of me I see flashing red lights through the fog. No sirens. A big red firetruck comes creeping quietly out of the fog and takes a right onto A1A directly in front of me. As it passes, not more than 25 yards away from me, there he is. Santa Clause on top of the truck eye-level with me and not a soul around. He just rolls on by without a word just staring and waving at me.
I’m still in shock standing there in jeans without a shirt holding my coffee so all I can do is just wave back. And a half second later he disappears into the fog and it was dead quiet again.
I just stood there for 5 minutes thinking “what the hell did I drink last night?”
It was probably one of the most surreal things that I’ve ever seen.
Where I grew up in Indiana, Santa was a member of the fire department and he arrived on a truck, but he set up court on the steps of the courthouse to see the kids. He then moved to a trailer parked on the courthouse grounds for the rest of the season.
However, I was part of Operation Santa with the volunteer department I’m a member of just this past weekend, and it was much as you described. Of course, the town where I now live is much, much smaller than where I grew up. BTW, I had a blast, and I wasn’t even in the suit.
They used to do this where I grew up, but I grew up in Essex County, which is probably one of the counties Loach lived in, anyway. What I loved about it was that even though I knew “Santa” was the guy that lived two houses down from me, the town was organized enough that parents would bring presents to the firehouse in advance, and the kids would actually get something they wanted and had asked for. And Mr. F–I’m sorry, Santa–knew all the kids in the neighborhood, and could therefore give them the correct present.
They did in the neighborhood where I grew up - he always came on Christmas Eve. I don’t know how we rated such a prime night, but that’s how it always was, and still is. It’s a volunteer group that takes him through that neighborhood.
Nearly all the volunteer stations around here do what are called “Santa Details.”
I belong to a volunteer firehouse and we did ours just this last Sunday, and like my fellow firefighter VunderBob said, it was a blast. We take out all the equipment, with lights flashings and run the sirens and Santa rides on one of the engines. When we see kids, we stop and Santa gets off and talks to them and gives out candy canes. We received about $500 in donations and a couple plates of homemade cookies, which were promptly scarfed down enroute.
Afterwards, we all go back to the firehouse and have a potluck dinner.
It’s a lot of fun.
They do it here (and on Halloween too) but it didn’t start happening until I was too old to participate. I always thought it was because my neighbor was a fireman.
Now I see on the city signboard something about dropping off gifts from santa at the fire station. I think it’s for parents who want to give santa some gifts to give their kids (doesn’t read like it’s a charity-type thing).
I don’t know when he comes. Because I am spiteful.
What I loved about it was that even though I knew “Santa” was the guy that lived two houses down from me, the town was organized enough that parents would bring presents to the firehouse in advance, and the kids would actually get something they wanted and had asked for. And Mr. F–I’m sorry, Santa–knew all the kids in the neighborhood, and could therefore give them the correct present.