Adventures with Santa – Santa visits with VP Kamala Harris

Santa traveled along the Potomac River. He could see the White House lit up for Christmas, the twinkling lights of Georgetown, and the Washington monument standing tall above it all.

Though he was a citizen of the world, and loved all children, he felt kindred to the children of America, and felt a pang of endearment for its country’s capital.

In search of the circle where the Naval Observatory sits, Santa honed in on the the Vice President’s residence.

Calling out to the leader of his team of reindeers, he shouted, “Rudolph, do you see the circle? Shall we give the VP a visit?”

Eager for a rest, Rudolph nodded in agreement, his nose glowing in the night sky, leading the way. Santa’s crew glided down onto the lawn of the mansion.

This was VP Harris’ last Christmas Eve in the VP mansion she shared with First Second Gentleman, Doug Emhoff.

And while many anticipated her moving into the White House after this year’s election, that move was not meant to be.

It was just about midnight and VP Harris sat up in her bed woken by the sound of bells. The Second Gentleman lay sound asleep as she tiptoed to the window.

“Damn,” she thought, I might’ve had one too many eggnog’s last night,” as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, not quite believing the site below.”

Santa recognized her joyful laugh in an instant as she approached the sled. Turning to greet her he was welcomed by her infectious smile and they laughed heartily together.

”Well, I thought I had pretty much seen it all!” She exclaimed. “Welcome to the VP residence, Santa, and Merry Christmas Eve!”

Santa wanted to hug her, but reached out his hand, unsure of protocol. To his surprise VP Harris ignored the offer of a handshake and gave him a big hug. Happily accepting the warm welcome, he introduced her to the reindeer, one by one.

”It’s an honor to meet you, I’ve admired your work,” Santa said.

“And I yours, Santa,” she said, not quite believing the moment before her.

“I’m so sorry for the loss,” Santa said to the once presidential hopeful. “You know, you’ve been on my Nice list for quite a long time. And myself, the Missus, and all the Elves were rooting for you from the North Pole.”

“Thank you, Santa, your support means the world to me. Thank you for having me on the list!” She laughed.

“Of course,” Santa responded, with a little sadness in his voice. “We were terribly disappointed when we saw someone prominent for decades on my Naughty list back in the people’s house again. I can’t tell you how many lumps of coal I’ve had to drop down that man’s chimney over the years, but he just doesn’t get it.”

There was a solemn moment of silence between them, when VP Harris’ eyes lit up, wanting to change the subject.

”Didn’t I read something last year about you making visits to my friend, Giselle Fetterman… and Snoop Dogg, and Jim Belushi’s Farm in Oregon?” The VP inquired, believing what she read was fiction.

“Oh, yes,” he confirmed with a twinkle in his eye. Nice of you to follow my adventures. Belushi is a lovely man, very sincere about his beloved farm. That was a most interesting evening.”

“And didn’t I read that you and the Elves grow cannabis up at the North Pole?” she said with a slight tone of cross examination.

“Oh, no, no,” Santa quickly corrected, “The Elves are the farmers, Mrs. Claus makes the tincture, and I reap the benefits. I don’t think many people realize how uncomfortable the sled can be flying around the world on Christmas Eve.”

Santa reached into a small pocket hand sewn into the inside of his red coat by Mrs. Claus herself, and pulled out a small dropper bottle of cannabis tincture.

“Sciatica is nothing to mess around with,” he said knowingly, as he put a few drops under his tongue, quickly returning the bottle to the little pocket.

“You know, Santa, I’ve been hotly criticized for the work I did as a prosecutor in California against cannabis.”

Santa took a moment to respond, as he knew this was a contentious debate for many.

“I will never fault prosecutors or law enforcement for doing their jobs,” he quickly replied. “Education is sorely needed, though, because none of the laws match what this plant really is.”

“It’s complicated,” Harris said with remorse. “I’ve come to realize over the years that it does bring relief to many,” she admitted. “But we can’t ignore the psychoactive properties… and we must protect the children.”

Santa knew the rhetoric well, but proceeded with confidence, as this was one person he knew could make a difference on the education of the plant.

“Human hands upped the percentage of tetrahydrocannabinol or THC over the decades,” he informed. “I’m sure you must be aware that the plant does not technically hold any psychoactive compounds, though there are hundreds of non-psychoactive beneficial compounds within the plant. THCa is actually a non-psychoactive compound, only activated with heat.”

“I see,” she replied, eager to hear more from this iconic, jolly man, now turned quite serious about a plant she knew had been demonized politically for decades, while people in her home state of California and all across the country had been healing from it for just as long.

“The THC is not activated in the tincture Mrs. Claus makes for me, but quels my pain just the same,” he continued. “And, with great respect, you do realize there are many children who have also been helped immensely with this plant. And though they may be persecuted for helping their children, their parents never come off the Nice list for their efforts. And I may go out on a limb here, but no one comes off the list for merely enjoying its euphoric properties. That’s a bonus. It’s always medicine.”

An awkward moment of silence followed, and Santa realized he might have been lecturing a bit, but it was apparent that VP Harris was seriously and respectfully hearing and pondering these facts.

He pressed on knowing this was an educating moment, but he was also painfully aware that he may be booted off the VP mansion’s lawn at any moment by the Secret Service watching from the shadows.

“You know, the original plant held less than five percent THC. Some say it’s God’s plant, used in Holy Anointing Oil,” he continued. But now you’ll think me a conspiracy theorist, and we have enough of those in the country today, don’t we?” he chuckled, In an attempt to lighten up the moment.

“You’ve got that right, Santa,” as the seriousness faded from her face, and her smile broadened.

The reindeer were getting restless, and Rudolph gave Santa the signal it was time to move on. There were children needful of gifts, and many more plates of cookies left out for him to be enjoyed.

“It’s been a lovely visit, but we must continue on our journey – and I understand you have Your mother’s Chile Relleno to make in the morning!”

“Yes, I do!” She exclaimed, surprised that Santa seemed to know so much about her.

“Even though you won’t be president this time around, Santa added, I want you to know that you’ve earned your place on my Nice list over the years, and all of us at the North Pole are confident that you will continue to make a difference for all of us.”

Teary-eyed, Vice President Kamala Harris thanked Santa Claus and watched as he and his devoted crew magically took flight from the lawn of the residence.

Santa left her hopeful for the future. For even though she would not be president, he knew that her work for the people would continue for the greater good.

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