[JavaFox]

I'm usually a bit of an attention whore. I try to write a few words here and there on special occasions. But it occured to me that I could say nothing that was more compelling, more touching, and more beautiful than this story in USAToday. I hope you are inspired. It certainly inspired me, moving me to tears when I read it on a Boeing 747 somewhere over the Pacific.

Merry Christmas, all!



---

NEW YORK — There were lots of miracles on 34th Street this week, and one of them happened to James Frazier. The Macy's security guard, a new father at 19, was standing at his post at the famous intersection of Seventh Avenue and 34th Street when a gentleman with white hair and a gray beard handed Frazier a crisp $100 bill. Frazier looked dumbfounded at the money. "Is he Santa Claus?" he asked as the man disappeared into the crowd. "I believe in Santa Claus. I grew out of it when I was 10, but now I believe in Santa Claus." The mystery man who doled out $100 bills all around Manhattan on Tuesday and Wednesday and will do it again Thursday is a wealthy businessman from the Kansas City area who has been nicknamed Secret Santa in his hometown, where he has been doing this for 22 years. This year, he came to New York, where he thought his largess would offer some comfort to a wounded city.

Secret Santa gave dozens of New Yorkers $100 each, others received several hundred dollars, and a few got $1,000 or more. At the end of three days, he'll have given away $25,000 of his own money. And then he's headed back to Kansas City, where he'll give away another $25,000 before Christmas.

His goal in both cities: to find and help "people who have that lost look in their eyes. There are certain people who are really in bad trouble, and they need a lift," he says.

Once penniless and homeless himself, he knows that a little bit goes a long way with many people. "You'd have thought I just gave them a million dollars."

Many wealthy people across the country get into the Christmas spirit with generous, anonymous giving. They write checks to the Salvation Army, Catholic Relief Services or their favorite charities. But what makes Secret Santa unique is his direct approach, personally going into the streets to meet the people he helps.

During his whirlwind New York visit, he gave $100 bills to homeless people on the street, to people in wheelchairs, and to young mothers with babies outside a social service agency.

One woman, an epileptic, said she desperately needed the money because she was down to her last $100 and is going on disability. Another homeless man in a wheelchair said he had never received this much money ($200) from one person before, and he planned to share his windfall with his family.

As Santa went about his work, he didn't wear a Santa costume but sported a red flannel shirt and a photographer's vest with lots of pockets for his cash. He alternated between a New York Police Department cap and Santa hat. For safety reasons, he was sometimes accompanied by two New York police officers.

Santa has always been anonymous and wants to keep it that way. Only his wife, adult children and a few close friends know who he really is.

He understands why people sometimes don't go to the government, churches or charities for assistance. "It's very embarrassing for any person to have to ask for help. You feel like a failure, a loser. And when you lose your self-esteem, that's when you start losing hope," he says.

Santa's meager boyhood

Santa speaks from experience. As he tells it, his own life story was colored by poverty. He was raised in a small town in Mississippi by his grandparents, who struggled to keep him fed and clothed. "When the soles of my shoes wore out, my grandmother put cardboard in the bottom of them," he says.

In late winter of 1971, Santa, then a young man, was working in the little town of Houston, Miss., as a door-to-door salesman. His company went out of business, and within a few days, Santa had no money for food, gas or the motel room he was renting.

He also had no family to turn to for help. So he went to a local church, where he was told that the person in charge was gone for the day and to check back tomorrow. "I was ashamed of being homeless. I was terribly embarrassed, and I didn't want anybody to know. I didn't go back."

For eight days, he slept in his car, he says. He didn't have a nickel to his name and hadn't eaten for almost two days when he went to the Dixie Diner and ordered a big breakfast. He sipped his coffee until the crowd thinned out, then acted as if he had lost his wallet.

"I put on what I thought was an Academy Award performance. I fumbled around for my wallet. I got up and looked around the front door for it, and I looked around the stool I had been sitting on. I had this bewildered look on my face," Santa says.

Then the owner of the diner, who also was the waiter and cook, came over near the stool where Santa had been sitting and picked up a $20 bill off the floor. "Son, you must have dropped this," the diner owner said.

"It was like a fortune to me," Santa says. "I said to myself, 'Thank you, Lord.' And my next thought was that 'I'd better go ahead and get out of here before the person who really dropped it comes back in.' "

He paid for the breakfast, left a tip, pushed his car to a gas station and headed west. On the way out of town, it dawned on him "that maybe nobody had dropped the money at all — maybe that fella just knew I was in trouble, and he helped me in a way that didn't embarrass me. I'd been praying for a few days before that, and right then I just made a little promise. I said, 'Lord, if ever you put me in a position to help other people, I will do it.' "

Within a year, he had packed all of his belongings into one suitcase and headed to Kansas City on a bus. He struggled for years to make a living. He got married and had children.

"I borrowed money to start a business and sweated blood to pay it back," but it failed, he says. A second business, however, was successful.

It was 1979 when he made good on his promise to help those less fortunate. On a cold, snowy day around Christmas in Independence, Mo., he stopped at a drive-in and ordered a hamburger and soft drink. He gave the carhop a $50 bill and said, "Keep the change."

"You're kidding," she said.

"No, ma'am, Merry Christmas," he said.

She started sobbing and said, "Sir, you have no idea what this means to me."

It felt so wonderful that Santa went directly to the bank, got some more cash and started giving it away, he says.

For a few years, he didn't tell a soul what he was doing, not even his wife and children. Now, his whole family is in on it, and he and his wife budget how much they can afford to give away. One year alone, he handed out $85,000. Over the past 22 years, he figures, he has given away hundreds of thousands of dollars. He says there are no tax breaks for the way he distributes his money.

---


And in case you were wondering, Secret Santa tracked down that diner owner and gave him $10,000.

[mbeeston]

does he make trips to canada?

[kinetic]

Now that's REAL charity!

[UberLord]

Just shows that there's hope for humanity yet

[Zarathustra]

That's truly touching. You definitely don't hear about that in this day and time anymore.