Dear Santa:

Ah, yes. Here we are: of all the hundreds, maybe, honestly, thousands of pieces I have the privilege of putting cursor to screen this is, unquestionably, my favourite letter to craft. I know we don’t speak, email, tweet, or whichever form of communication you use throughout the year. I know, Santa, you are very busy during your time at the North Pole — that is, of course, when you’re not on your Christmas Eve voyage.

Santa: I hope you don’t mind, but I have to ask something. Are the people in your sled department looking into an electric sled? Electric cars, right? Just thought maybe … I guess the issue might be finding a place to plug it in. And, come to think about it, perhaps it wouldn’t be a good idea. With all that power — electricity— floating around, it might not be safe for your reindeer.

Sorry. Got a little carried away there.

I fully appreciate that you don’t have favourites. Every child in the world is special and a gift to all of us. So, I’m not going to ask you to have favourites. That wouldn’t be fair. Instead, I’m going to remind you of the countless children who are waiting for an organ transplant — or, who have had successful organ transplants. They are, certainly, tomorrow’s heroes. I know you have gifts, and I am grateful — very grateful — you will have something under the Christmas tree for them. And, please, Santa, don’t forget their brothers and sisters—and, of course, their parents. They are often forgotten, unfortunately. But they are heroes in their own right.

Thank you, Santa.

For me? I don’t need anything. I have everything I need. Really, I do: after a few health challenges I am ready to rock and roll. I know you are very generous and caring. So if you have an idea for a gift for me please think of someone in your large Rolodex — or, should that be Rolodex’s? — who could use the thing you were going to give me, please: give it to them.

Wait. Something just occurred to me. There is something I do want, and without sounding like it is important, is honestly, something that would really help me.

But first a bit of background.

I have had the privilege for a little over two years now of writing for the David Foster Foundation. It is now the highlight of my month because I think I now understand, very clearly, my mission; my … mandate. The DFF does a wonderful job of providing non-medical expenses to families of children needing organ transplants. As David Foster himself says, “The Foundation brings some good news on a terrible day of learning their child needs a transplant.” That means, for example, mortgages and other expenses will still be paid. If parents need to be in two different locations, travel expenses will be covered. And so many other things. But. And it is a huge but—we can’t help families if there are no organs available to be transplanted. Without that, we cannot help.

Numbers, disappointingly, echo that sentiment. Close to 28 million Canadians have not signed their donor cards. That means countless Canadians of all ages are on waiting lists for organ transplants. Sadly, Father Time doesn’t stop. And it has taken so many away from us. I believe The Good Lord has blessed me with a talent to write, to communicate, and maybe to motivate. To encourage. I’m going to keep that as the core, fundamental theme in what I write. I think we need to keep the pedal to the metal: such an easy thing as becoming a registered organ donor will save a life. I believe one of a writer’s greatest challenges is crafting different narratives — creative narratives, at that — to drive home the same challenge. I embrace and accept that challenge over the next year in writing for DFF.

So there is something you can give me for Christmas. I’m asking you to give me ideas, angles, new stories, new ways of asking, new ways of informing, without sounding the same. But, always, firmly expressing the importance of signing a donor card. Please give this thought.

Have a wonderful Christmas. And please drive safely.

Love,

Cam