This is Santa.  I met him at an outdoor event in West Palm Beach.  It was early in the day and Santa had a bit of time to speak with me before all manner of children (and surprisingly, quite a few very good looking women) began their yearly visit to his lap.

I asked him how he was able to wear such a heavy suit in our 78 degree weather, and he explained that his suit was packed with ice packets.  "Much the same technology as used by some of our troops in Iraq," he said.

Santa.. I mean Frank, told me that before he retired he worked for the Internal Revenue Service for more than 20 years, but that he began his Santa career about four years ago.

I asked him if he had ever had a sad moment as Santa, and he began to tell me about his work with children diagnosed with cancer.  He told me of a time when he was standing with a parent whose infant was being held down so the nurse could insert a needle into her vein.  "I was just standing there with this silly suit on, and holding a pathetic little gift.  And as I stood there, the child was screaming, and the mother was crying and holding on to my arm so tight.  And I thought - what can I possibly give to this child and her mother?  I'm just a man dressed in a silly red suit with a little gift, and this mother is in such pain."

Frank, I mean Santa, had a hard time resolving that moment in his own mind.  And I understand.  Life is not always kind or gentle.  A child's pain is horrific and as a parent himself, Frank had a difficult time containing his own feelings.

But, I'm glad Santa was there, and I'm sure that this mom who held on so tightly was also glad, for at that moment, Frank (or Santa) became more than a man in a red suit. He became another human being who was willing to share the pain.  He was there for her, and sometimes, just being there is enough.  I believe in you Santa.