Ailing Man Finds the Spirit to Play Santa

Victor Avellaneda used to be the poor kids’ Santa Claus.

They would flock to Santa’s throne--in Avellaneda’s La Puente garage--with wishes for toys, video games and even a job for Dad.

Then one Christmas, the neighborhood Santa didn’t show up.

Avellaneda was sick with liver disease and his doctors feared the worst. For the next few years, he spent the holidays in and out of hospitals, too sick to ho-ho-ho.

But this holiday season Avellaneda’s Santa is back.

His feet are so swollen that he has to wear extra-wide footwear--”Frankenstein shoes” he calls them--and doctors said he should be hospitalized because of slow internal bleeding, but Avellaneda has taken the Santa Claus suit out of the closet.

“I say to myself, ‘I really have nothing to complain about, considering there are people out there with lost limbs and people on their deathbeds,’ ” he said. “I realize I’m heading that way, but for now I’m able to do so much.”

So Avellaneda, a stocky 42-year-old with a ponytail, stuffed his hair under his Santa Claus cap Wednesday and, with a shake of his sleigh bells, announced his arrival at a convalescent home in West Covina filled with employees and patients, children and grandchildren.

“Santa Claus is here! Santa Claus is here!” the children screamed.

Though he isn’t supposed to lift more than 15 pounds, Avellaneda picked up toddlers and posed for photographs. He bellowed “ho ho ho,” squeezed cheeks, and swayed along when 5-year-old Precious Pearson started singing “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town.”

“That’s what makes it all worthwhile,” Avellaneda said while Precious sang next to him. “This little girl hasn’t left my side.”

Avellaneda fell ill three years ago with cirrhosis of the liver. Many people who suffer from the disease are alcohol abusers, but Avellaneda and those closest to him say he has never used alcohol or drugs.

He was initially given less than two years to live, but his condition has improved somewhat. Though his weight once fell to 175 pounds, he is back to his usual 245. His liver has stopped deteriorating, but he remains on a list for a transplant.

With Avellaneda and his wife, Melody, out of work--she suffers from back problems--the family is strapped financially. But his 17-year-old son, John, chips in, and the family scrapes by.

“I’m going to live the best I can, day by day, pain by pain. I’m not going to cry about it. That’s not helping me, and that’s not helping my wife and kids,” he said.

Avellaneda was born in Texas and moved to Southern California as a teenager. He stayed clear of the gangs and drugs that plagued his Atwater Village neighborhood and eventually became a tow truck driver.

He married, raised a family and worked long hours, but the adult responsibilities never extinguished the child inside him.

Avellaneda once bought two old limousines so he could drive his son John and younger son, 13-year-old Tony, around like big shots. The family garage--filled with video games, air hockey and pool tables--became a neighborhood hangout.

“My friends say, ‘You’re like a big old little kid.’ But that’s the way I like it,” he said.

Avellaneda first played Santa at family gatherings filled with a dozen nieces and nephews. He liked it so much he opened his doors to the entire neighborhood, where he knew many parents couldn’t afford shopping mall Santas.

Some families were shy at first, and would pass by the open garage--decorated with a sparkling tree and red curtain--before approaching. “Is it really free?” they would ask.

Yes, Avellaneda would respond. Just bring a camera.

“The whole neighborhood would go,” said Avellaneda’s former neighbor, Theresa Gonzalez. “I shot a whole roll with him and my granddaughter.”

The neighborhood Santa certainly wasn’t like the ones at the mall. Avellaneda matched Santa’s girth, but children were sometimes confused when they sat on his lap and looked beyond the white beard.

Isn’t Santa a white man, some would wonder. “We would tell them that Santa spent the summer in Florida for vacation,” said Melody Avellaneda.

Avellaneda was soon making regular appearances at his son Tony’s elementary school, where Melody, a teacher’s aide, would whisper to Avellaneda ahead of time what each child wanted.

“The kids would look at me. ‘How do you know what I want?’ ” Avellaneda said. “Santa Claus knows everything,” he would tell them.

Most children wanted Power Rangers, video games and other toys, but once in a while Avellaneda would hear unusual requests.

One little girl wanted a rosary so she could pray for her parents. And one boy wanted Santa to get a job for his out-of-work father.

Avellaneda felt helpless. But after Christmas the boy told Melody to pass along a message to Santa: “Tell Santa Claus thank you, my daddy’s working.”

Wednesday’s visit to the convalescent home reminded Avellaneda of his healthy days. While he was surrounded by all the children’s smiles, he said, his pain lifted, if only briefly.

He has decided that he wants to play Santa Claus as long as he can still get out of bed in the morning. The doctors, he said, don’t know how long he will live, but he is optimistic.

“Next year I’m going to be better organized,” he said. “So many places need Santas.”