Same Santa, Second Verse

It's no coincidence that I've written about Callahan Christmas nearly every year since I started writing Dispatches From the Ranch; it might be my favorite December outing.  The setting is in an old historic Grange building with walls as thick as Fort Knox's.  The cast of characters who attend represent what I love about this valley: hippies, cowboys, loggers, commune dwellers, and everyone in-between, all together, chatting and breaking bread.  The food is always a big traditional turkey and, even though I recently wrote about my normally unenthusiastic response to giant-chicken, this bird is the exception.  Plus, it's paired with potluck food, which is my favorite style of eating (food + surprises, what could be better?).  Send me to a restaurant with "family-style" seating and I'll probably stab you with my fork, but in Callahan, sitting at the long picnic tables is just part of the fun.

And then there's Santa.  Previous Saint Nicks have included a 25-year old dude, tiny frail men, cousins, and the super-legit reining Santa Champion, who had been there the last several years.  Sadly, that one passed away last year (pour a little egg nog out for Callahan Santa).  And even though the new Santa's beard and silver hair were clearly fake (the old Santa walked the walk year round), he did all the required holiday things: he was cheerful, inquisitive, and posed well for pictures.

Once the stockings get dolled out and the kids start terrorizing the Grange Hall, the adults retire to the upstairs to hang out by the wood stove.  Bottles of wine and beer emerge and stories about the past hunting season are told.  We duck the nerf footballs that the kids huck around and when the first rugrat collides with the wood pile, we gather up our salads and desserts and say our goodbyes.

Best of all, we're home before 9:00.  It's the perfect holiday tradition.