Santa headed southwest through the State of Oregon, down from Christmas Valley, where Vixen had a street named after him. "That town sure doesn't look anything like Christmas," Santa said with a chuckle. "There's your 15 minutes of fame, Vixen!"
The sky was clear and crisp as Santa and his crew glided over Crater Lake, and along Highway 62, homing in on his next stop, Eagle Point, and the home and farm of fellow Santa, Jim Belushi.
The reindeer jingled their bells in unison, while Rudolph's nose glowed at the thought of meeting another Santa — and a funny one at that.
"Mall Santas have a special place in our hearts, right boys?" Santa shared. "They are the Influencers of Christmas!" he laughed heartily. "I couldn't do this without them."
Belushi and Santa had more in common than they were even aware of. Both meandered away from, but didn't leave, mainstream gigs for a greater-good life of giving and cannabis — Belushi entertaining and providing happiness with his acting and now the plant; and Santa continuing his good work of giving, adding cannabis, with the elves now farming in the North Pole. Belushi's company offering up flower and remedies, while Mrs. Claus made tincture and edibles at home.
Both had a jolly sense of humor, a strong sense of right and wrong, and a love of family — blood related, as well as their extended families — each establishing roots and helping others globally.
But tonight, Santa was on a mission from God, echoing Jim's brother John as a Blues Brother, with a special invitation for Mr. B that he was both excited for and nervous about.
Santa spotted the farm and lighted down on the field in front of the main house.
Belushi sat up in bed to see what was about, as his dog, Taro, ran out of the house and out to the field, barking, stopping dead in his tracks, as the reindeer settled down.
Belushi followed behind Taro, wearing red pajamas and a stocking cap, reminiscent of a Santa. Rubbing his eyes in an attempt to clear this seeming vision before him, hoping it would disappear, he said, "One too many eggnogs last night. Or maybe it was the hash."
"Might have been the combination," Santa said with a jolly belly laugh. "Sorry to startle you, Mr. Belushi. We tend to do that."
"It's been some months since my last ayahuasca ceremony," Belushi said, laughing — still trying to find a solution to Santa sitting on his farm. "So, cannabis is medicine and Santa is real," Belushi mused aloud.
"Yes, my friend, we are as real as Rudolph's nose is red," Santa assured. "Beautiful farm you have here, I must say!"
"Thanks, Santa. Beautiful sled," he responded awkwardly, trying to find some sense of normalcy in this seemingly abnormal situation. "Hey, I heard from Snoop Dogg you and the elves are farmers up at the Pole. As long as I'm learning truths tonight, might as well hear it all."
"You heard right, Mr. Belushi," Santa said with a wink. "It's not me, though. The elves are master gardeners now and Mrs. Claus makes the remedies."
With that, Santa unbuttoned the top button of his red coat to reveal a little hand-stitched pocket, holding one dropper bottle of tincture.
"Please, call me Jim," he offered. "Is that what I think it is?"
"Yes, it's cannabis tincture; the wife makes it for me. The sled is no limo," he laughed. "It's a tough ride and my bottle is nearly empty, if you can help a fellow Santa out?"
Belushi went into the house and brought back an unmarked bottle of tincture. "We don't make this on the farm, it's made by a friend of the farm in Medford — it's second-generation Southern Oregon."
"Well, that makes it extra special, thanks so much," Santa said, taking a dropper full and squeezing it out onto his tongue. "I used to have sciatica from these rides, but it's reduced to a dull pain with the plant."
Then, Belushi broke open a pre-roll from his line, The Blues Brothers Greatest Hits.
"This is from our Working Man's Brand," he said.
"I like the name," Santa said, reaching for the lit joint now being handed to him. Santa took a long, deep hit, as Belushi looked on with a grin, still in disbelief by his Christmas Eve visitor.
"I can tell you put a lot of love into this farm," Santa said.
"Thank you, Santa. What's not to love? I love the farming life. You know, I took over this farm from a friend who passed away, with a promise to keep it going."
"Well, you've done a fine job and I'm sure the friend that passed is still here with you and loves what you've done," Santa said, thoughtfully. "And you helped restore the Holly Theatre in Medford — and the Butte Creek Mill when it burned down. But, I must say, you are doing God's work growing this plant."
"Well, it's my community, too, you know? And, yes, we just tend the plant for Mother Nature. Where will you head next, Santa?" Belushi asked, not really wanting him to leave just yet, but wanting to change the conversation.
Belushi might be a celebrity in the spotlight, but he's humble in his charity. He was enjoying the moment, but wondering how he would explain this to his crew. Or maybe he wouldn't.
"Funny you should say — that's just what I wanted to ask you," Santa said hesitantly, choosing his words wisely.
"Have you ever been up to The Table Rocks?" Santa inquired. "It's lovely up there this time of night."
The Table Rocks are ancient landmarks in the Rogue River Valley that jut more than 14,000 feet into the sky, formed more than seven million years ago, created by lava from a volcano near Lost Creek Lake. The indigenous people who once lived there were said to pray for abundance to beings from another dimension with metaphysical powers, presenting them with offerings.
Belushi was perplexed by the thought but intrigued. "We've hiked it, yes, but not at night. Legend has it there's spirits up there in them hills," he laughed.
"Supernatural beings," Santa replied, knowingly. "From the Takelma tribe — meaning, 'Those along the river.' How'd you like to take a ride in the sled?"
Belushi's night just went from unbelievable to surreal, but he had his reservations. No pun intended. The brutality shown to the Takelma by the Euro-American settlers who took their land in the late 1800s, leading 400 tribespeople 300 miles away from their homeland, was not lost on him, and he wondered if the spirits would be friendly.
"What if I say yes, Santa?" Belushi said, still unsure. "What's your ride powered by?"
"Magic," Santa said, with confidence. "If you say yes, we'll take a little ride. There's something up there I think you need to see."
The two Santas stood together taking in the night sky, quietly passing the Working Man's Brand between them, in deep contemplation about the indigenous peoples before them — the original working men and women on this land, the spirits in the sky, and the ensuing adventure at hand.
With a wink and a nod, Santa offered his hand to Belushi, helping him onto the sled.
Santa tugged on the reins and Rudolph gently lifted up into the night sky, leading them all, one-by-one, with its jolly driver singing:
"Now, Dasher! Now, Dancer! Now Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! On, Cupid! On, Donner on Blitzen! Into the sky and onto Table Rocks! Dash away, dash away all!"
Belushi's smile was as big as it's ever been, as he looked back to the land and the farm he loves — giggling softly in anticipation of what was to come. Just like life on the farm, he'll let the plant lead him.
"The healing is just a bonus," he thought, as Santa guided him upwardsand away, with magic guaranteed everywhere on this night.
