St. Nicholas Day

When I was a high school exchange student in Basel, Switzerland, I celebrated my first St. Nicholas Day, or Nikolaustag. I had four younger host siblings, the youngest of whom was just shy of seven, and a host mother whose favorite holiday was Christmas. Every night during the Advent season, she gathered the family after dinner to sing Christmas carols and read a story from the piles of Christmas-themed children's books she pulled out every year.

One night, there was a knock at our back door. My youngest host siblings, Susanne and Stefan scrambled to the door. They knew who was there. I was surprised when I saw who appeared to be Santa Claus walking into our house. He sat himself down on a stool, laid a large sack on the ground and pulled out a leather book. Us kids lined up and one by one were instructed by St. Nick to tell him three good things we had done, which he compared with his notes in his book.

My youngest siblings were so excited they could hardly control themselves, the oldest was slightly bemused, but acting more mature than your average eleven-year-old, went along for the sake of his brother and sister, and then there was I who was still trying to sort out this St. Nick tradition and what the heck I was supposed to say. It's not that I was lacking examples of good behavior or deeds, it's just put on the spot with my entire host family watching, (and at the point some curious neighbors who'd stopped by - apparently St. Nick was jointly hired by a couple neighborhood parents and was making the rounds) I was at a loss for words, especially ones in a coherent German. My host mom, sweet as she was, fed me my lines. And I passed! Satisfied, St. Nick reached into his sack and handed us bundles of nuts, chocolates and Clementines.

The evening ended with a loss of innocence, though, when Stefan recognized the logo from a Swiss grocery store chain on his package of nuts and asked his mom why St. Nickolas was handing out nuts from Migros. Even before my host mother was able to offer up an explanation, the truth dawned on Stefan and he started crying. His older brother desperately tried to convince him that St. Nickolas was real, but that he'd just run out of nuts and needed to pick up some extra packages at the grocery store, but Stefan was nearly hysterical. And I could tell my host mother, who'd done such a good job to make the Christmas season a magical time for her kids, felt really bad and was kicking herself for not noticing that the packaging would be a giveaway.

At least my memories of that night are fond, even if that year was the only year I celebrated St. Nick's Day. When I lived in Germany, I lived in a dorm or on my own and it wasn't a tradition my family in the U.S. followed. But here in Minnesota I've encountered a number of people who not only know what St. Nick's Day is, but grew up anticipating treats or even a small gift awaiting them in their shoes on the morning of December 6.

Oliver must have been a good baby this year, because when he crawled out of his room this morning, he found a pile of Clementines and his size four shoes filled with chocolate coins. He thought the surprise was neat and enjoyed tossing the coins and the Clementines and tried taking bites out of each, foil wrappers or skin and all. Since he doesn't have any top teeth, he didn't make a dent in either.

I hope celebrating St. Nicholas Day is a tradition that sticks in our family. And though I don't think I'll ever go as far to hire a neighbor to come to our house dressed as St. Nicholas, I have learned from my host mother's mistakes and am sure to check the packaging of any treats St. Nicholas brings.