A Writer's Gift

(source)

In a creative, magical gesture J. R. R.Tolkien began sending letters to his children in 1920 addressed from Father Christmas. Writing as the jolly elf, he described his home and duties at the North Pole and often mentioned his number one assistant, a polar bear with a habit for getting into trouble. Later the fantasy world he created had grown to include Snow-elves, Red-gnomes, and Cave-bears. Tolkien continued the tradition with his children for over twenty years, often including illustrations he'd done, like the one above, to go along with the letters.

The letters and drawings were kept safe, and many years later they were collected and made into a book titled, Letters From Father Christmas, which you can find here. Below is a copy of one of the letters along with the plain text version, since it is somewhat difficult to read the shaky handwriting Tolkien used to express his inner Santa...

1925

My dear boys, 

I am dreadfully busy this year — it makes my hand more shaky than ever when I think of it — and not very rich. In fact, awful things have been happening, and some of the presents have got spoilt and I haven't got the North Polar Bear to help me and I have had to move house just before Christmas, so you can imagine what a state everything is in, and you will see why I have a new address, and why I can only write one letter between you both. It all happened like this: one very windy day last November my hood blew off and went and stuck on the top of the North Pole. I told him not to, but the N.P.Bear climbed up to the thin top to get it down — and he did. The pole broke in the middle and fell on the roof of my house, and the N.P.Bear fell through the hole it made into the dining room with my hood over his nose, and all the snow fell off the roof into the house and melted and put out all the fires and ran down into the cellars where I was collecting this year's presents, and the N.P.Bear's leg got broken. He is well again now, but I was so cross with him that he says he won't try to help me again. I expect his temper is hurt, and will be mended by next Christmas. I send you a picture of the accident, and of my new house on the cliffs above the N.P. (with beautiful cellars in the cliffs). If John can't read my old shaky writing (1925 years old) he must get his father to. When is Michael going to learn to read, and write his own letters to me? Lots of love to you both and Christopher, whose name is rather like mine.

That's all. Good-bye.

Father Christmas

What a wonderful gift to give a child. No batteries, no assembly required, and no box to recycle. It's something only a storyteller could give. Such a treasure. 

Have you ever written a story for the children in your life? 


* * *

And now I'm off to do Christmas-y things, maybe see The Hobbit and Les Miserables at the theater, and enjoy the season. Merry Christmas! I'll be back again after the New Year.

.