Let’s take it as a given that I’m not religious. But we all want something to believe in. When I was a child, I was a fervent Santa-believer. I felt his presence, no doubt about it. That palpable excitement, the feeling that he’d just left when you walked into the room (I got the same vibe off the Easter Bunny). The whole of December was atingle.
When Santa left, he left a big hole.
For me to go on, I needed to know that there was something big and bright and sparkly and full of novelty and promise and excitement. I needed to get back that Christmas-Eve feeling. There has been other Santa-substitutes, but right now the only star I follow is the one that is guiding our way to New York.
I am building this place up to legendary proportions, but somehow I think it warrants it. I live in a big enough city, a famous enough city. But it’s not big and famous enough to fill that Santa-sized hole in my heart.