Someone out there reads all the letters to Santa

Requests range from extravagant to poignant, such as the boy whose family can't afford Christmas.

Published online on Monday, Dec. 22, 2008

Each year, letters to Santa -- scribbled and sealed tight (children really seem to like glue) -- arrive at local post offices.

For more than 25 years in Fresno, postal workers have volunteered to open the wistful missives, sending a colorful form letter back from "your friend Santa." Sometimes they're moved by the lives of children who write.

Postal clerk Susan Ward, coordinator of the letter-opening effort, is surrounded by exuberant lists of untamed avarice as well as letters from children who expect few presents. This year, more letters than ever explain to Santa that parents have no money and it would be great if he could help out a little.

Judi of Fresno, for example, wants a handbag with stars, or a heart, or a peace sign; a family photo to hang in her room; and a black jean skirt.

"But what I really want is for people to stop giving us bills. Santa, why is life so hard when you can't understand," Judi prints in rounded, curvy letters. "Because every day and night I see my mom doing bills until like 2:00 in the morning. So please make this the best Christmas ever. I just want my mom to be happy."

Ward looks at the return address.

"Oh, that's a tough part of town," she says, glancing at the ZIP code.

The next letter doesn't have a return address. But everyone looking at Ashlee's multicolored, computer-printed three pages quickly imagines they came from a far different neighborhood than Judi's.

Ashlee's list of wishes (itemized and numbered) includes a pink Apple computer, rhinestoned iPod Touch, and seven different lip balm collections from Claire's Boutique.

Ward giggles and rolls her eyes. Ashlee managed to stand out. Ward and her colleagues have read a lot of letters. They've seen it all. The pleas for puppies, the requests to see a dad who isn't there, or to see a grandparent who died, just one more time.

They've seen many requests framed as quid pro quos, such as this one from Emma: "I have not been mean to my friends, ever. May I have a Hannah Montana wig?"

It takes a lot to stop the letter-readers in their tracks.

Yet that's what happens when Yolanda Zubia, a bulk-mail worker, unfolds Cesar's letter. It's in Spanish. She translates it to her co-workers through tears.

"Hello Dear Santa Claus. I want clothes and some small cars. My name is Cesar and I am 12 years old. My mother has already told me they will buy nothing for Christmas because my parents have no money."

Cesar tells Santa that his father can't find work so there is no rent money. He says he came from Mexico and doesn't have enough clothes or any toys at all. He's staying with an aunt who is "muy delicado" -- very particular. Her children -- his cousins -- tell him she will buy them anything they want while he has nothing. They make fun of him because his dad looks for bottles in the garbage and found clothes there for Cesar.

"Por favor, Santa Claus a cuerdate mi como de otres ninos que necesitan -- Please Santa Claus remember me and the other children in need."

Sometimes the postal workers try to reach out to the kids whose letters are distressing. Zubia puts Cesar's letter aside. Maybe there is someone who can help him.

The letter is from Mendota.

Falling through the cracks

Mendota, a flat farmworker town about 35 miles west of Fresno, has one stoplight, cold winds that blow in from the coastal range and a lot of poverty.

This year, jobs are tougher than ever to find. Two hundred people lost their jobs when the 45-year-old Spreckels sugar plant closed in September. Farm jobs have eroded as environmentally damaged farmland in western Fresno County is retired.