The Kringle Brothers book series.

It had been forty years since the Kringle Brothers were seen on the actual "morning" of Christmas day. Christopher took pride in completing his job before sunrise, usually by 7:00 am, Hawaii Standard Time. But today, December 25th, 1987, the North Pole received several requests from the prestigious New York-Presbyterian Hospital on Madison Avenue. Most grandparents recalled this facility to have registered his birth at the turn of the last century, however, no birth certificate had ever surfaced since the problems during World War II.

Never a person to forget the city he once called home, this trip to Manhattan remained special for more reasons than one. This hospital building seemed important to Wallace Kringle, Christopher's older brother, ever since they opened for business in 1913. Oddly, their corporate financial records remained a mystery—ever since they were forced to shut down. 

No one on the hospital rooftop recognized Wally or his importance in Santa's life. Minutes earlier, he had simply told the medical staff to wait by the stairs and keep the elevator doors. A month earlier, key employees had been informed this facility would be the final destination for Christmas deliveries that year. 

Precisely on time, at 7:30 am, the new weightless sleigh which was being test-driven that day, lowered itself quietly onto the helipad above. All on the square rooftop watched Santa land the craft precisely inside a directional red "H" encircled by a massive white cross. In the distance, several nurses pointed as they witnessed an older reddish sleigh with eight animals attached. Questions arose with those with a medical degree, who seemed oblivious to the newfound physics of flight. Apparently, Tesla's magnetic properties of the earth weren't discussed in medical school.

Amongst the chaos and confusion in the early morning light, there was a military presence not typically seen. Four helicopters in the distance, snipers at the corners, and several new nurses wearing headsets—never seen by the employees. The mysterious older Kringle brother, whom none could identify, was addressed as Wallace or Wally by two commanding officers. This African-American brother in all-black was important, yet no one recognized him at all. Formally dressed and shaking hands with the Colonel, Wally took off his headset and began walking towards Chris—knowing the importance of this mission. Two Air Force pilots held illuminating beacons, marshaling the sleigh down for a perfect landing. Simultaneously, Wally wiped cold morning dew off his tuxedo as the high-ranking officers watched the older brother greet Chris.

"Been four years since they've been in public together," said the highly decorated Colonel.

"I'm not sure what to believe," said the younger Air Force pilot, "I never knew Santa had a brother."

"It's been a tightly held secret for years," said the elder, "Rumors have it—FDR erased everything about their lives, even their wives."

"What about the new sleigh? How does it even work?"

"That's on a need-to-know basis," said the man full of brass, putting out yet another cigarette, "Your report will only document that one over there."

"That one? The old one? With the reindeer?"

"Precisely. Don't mention the new one to anyone... Understood?"

With a nod from the lieutenant moving up the ranks, the high-tech sleigh powered down without making a sound. A dozen staff members rushed over to see as Wally snapped to Chris, trying to hide the advancements only known to a handful of engineers.

"Hospitals' been swept. It's clean," Wally said as the driver-side door opened with a mind of its own. 

"This thing is fast!" Chris added with a hug, "What type of propulsion system did you put in here?"

"Element 115," said the older brother with a grin, "Where'd you go?"

"I went to see that new Lipstick building over on 3rd, the one you—"

"Did you see anything?"

"No, but some of the investors must have been putting in overtime."

"Which floor were they on?" asked Wally curiously.

"17th," said the driver, confused by his brother's concern.

"I thought so—let's go. We'll deal with this later," added the protective brother as staff members quickly approached.

From about an arm's distance away, the healthcare professionals inspected the new magical sleigh—each pointing and gleaming at something ahead of its time. The male physicians seemed interested in the GPS in the dash or how the hovering craft moved with a slight pressure of the hand. The female workers seemed engrossed with Santa himself, as his muscular frame was not something they were expecting. All could easily recognize he appeared heavier in older Coca-Cola advertisements, yet, no one on the rooftop had ever met—the real Christopher Kringle.

One last flip of a switch caused the GPS in the dash to rotate and expose three older audio devices; an 8-track, a cassette deck, and a simple AM/FM radio which only produced static. The final turn of a dial produced absolute silence, except for muffled music still blaring through the trunk.

As the staff members prepared to escort the holiday crew, both brothers still had several things to do. Everyone had questions, several questions actually, mostly about Chris having a brother or the legitimacy of Santa himself. One aggressive male nurse spoke up as he demanded an answer to how presents are delivered around the world.

"We'll answer all your questions in due time," Wally said, "But right now, my brother has several toys which need to find new homes."

The only adult in the bright red suit made his way over to the old sled nearby. He calmly acknowledged all eight animals from back to front, then praised them in alphabetical order. With a mere pat on the head, along with a carrot, he passionately whispered, "Thank you, Blitzen, Comet, Cupid, Dancer, Dasher, Donner, Rudolph, and Vixen. And don't worry. We can never replace you."

Wally gestured for the hospital photographer to take a picture of the Ford emblem on the hood. The man holding the camera turned his head and chuckled—because no car company anywhere could produce something like this. Not even Wally's neighbor in Texas, Carroll Shelby, famous for Le Mans, who supposedly gave aerodynamic advice to improve wind resistance. Either way, moments later, the Colonel grabbed the camera, ripped out the film, and scolded everyone in scrubs, "We told you, all of you, absolutely no pictures. Especially of this." 

Alone and off to the side, Chris lifted the last two bags of toys out of the old sled nearby. When Wally approached, a single present lay sparkling on the seat, meticulously wrapped in metallic gold paper. As Santa began to walk away, Wally said, "Hey...little brother, aren't you forgetting something?"

"Oh my goodness! Can you imagine?" Chris replied with a genuine smile.

"How about I keep it until we meet up downstairs?"

"Fine by me," answered Chris, "I'd never hear the end of it if you forgot."

Wallace Kringle, or Wally to those closest to him, grabbed the gold box and protected it like a running back heading into the end zone. The lesser-known older brother appeared clean-shaven for something eventful and looked stunning in his all-black tuxedo. While his attire was distinctly opposite Chris, not even the doctors exiting the elevator saw his red cumber bun, white undershirt, and matching red bow tie. Most thought Wally resembled a model straight out of a GQ magazine, yet no one knew his picture hadn't been taken in decades. After a quick nod to Chris, he held the golden gift close to his chest, then turned his head to his comrade in red, "Don't forget... this is why you're here."

"I know," said the better-known brother, "It will be the biggest surprise of the year."

Ready to greet the staff, Chris was about to put on his famous red hat, now famously known around the globe. Ironically, it wasn't always this way. But before placing it on top of his head, one tiny drop of blood caught his attention. In a fraction of a second, his subconscious recalled when this occurred, and for some reason, now his legs didn't want to move. With two bags of gifts weighted over both shoulders, he stood paralyzed with horrific memories of how his outfit originated. No one except Wally could believe the actual chain of events, and it would be years until forensic science could provide DNA evidence. 

The older one walked away, ready for his younger sibling to begin, "Come on, Chris. Hurry up."

Santa stood flabbergasted, not able to move.

"What do you think?" Wally yelled near the group of people, "Want this sleigh for your birthday next year?"

"Let's wait," said Chris, saddened by past tragic events as his legs shuffled forward, "We still need to wait and see what Mercedes and Ferrari have to offer."

Inside Wally's pants pocket was a hand-held device. When it suddenly beeped, it was pulled out for all to view. The high-pitched voices on the 2-inch screen desired to see Santa and were clearly excited about something. The small wireless contraption was then held at eye level—as several little people were seen screaming and jumping up and down. The staff recognized the 1980 Kool & the Gang song "Celebration" playing in the background, yet none could tell where the video feed was coming from.

"I'm here. Quit bouncing," Santa said to the small faces clamoring on the screen, "I'll be home in a few hours. Don't stay up late."

The static-filled talk over the hand-held device sounded like teenagers having a party when their parents weren't home. All the little voices wanted to know when he'd return, as one doctor near the sleigh asked, "Is that the elves? Is that thing connected to the North Pole?"

Wally smirked and looked at Chris, "Yes—they're a little enthusiastic when Mrs. Claus isn't around."

"But how does it connect to the North Pole?" the same doctor asked.

"ELF waves," said Wally, "The same technology used in submarines."

 As quickly as the doctor pondered the answer, a nurse wearing a headset approached out of nowhere. She was all business right from the start, as her voice indicated there wasn't any more time for nonsense. "Chris—you need to hurry. The children have been up all night."

Over the years, Santa made it routine to visit sick children in hospitals, just as he advised his friend Babe Ruth to do some seventy years earlier. Christopher Kringle, however, usually delivered presents to hospitals the week before Christmas—not after his busiest day of the year. However, the nurse with the headset understood the reason he was here—a lone pregnant mother wrote an official letter requesting "Mr. Christopher Kringle" be the one to rock her newborn to sleep.

"Room 572," a squeaky voice screamed over the hand-held device, "572—don't forget!" 

"Bano, I got this. Let everyone know I'm safe," Santa said, ready to be done with the conversation. 

"No, wait—is Zippy there?" the high-pitched voice yelled as white gloves reduced the volume.

The abrupt call ended with a turn of the dial. Some nearby healthcare workers seemed impressed with this highly-advanced gadget as Chris made his way over with two large sacks now over one shoulder. He glanced toward Wally and spoke, "We'll deal with those crazy elves later."

With a light wave of snow starting to fall, all were surprised when a Page Six reporter snuck up the stairs—three feet to the right of the elevator. She took a picture of the iconic man now ready for work, then ran down to never be caught. It would later be written in her column that "Santa resembled a rock star carrying his guitar for one final performance."

As the group made their way toward the exit below, several physicians lined up to shake hands—yet no one appreciated the new Beastie Boys song, "No Sleep Till Brooklyn," now blaring in Wally's pants. Three surgeons approached with previously delivered gifts, hopefully to be autographed by the man simply known as Chris.

The highest-ranking physician held out a bright pink box to be signed. His wife's favorite gift of all time, a 1950s Barbie—which was delivered some 30 years earlier. Everyone admired the old doll, and its original box, while some workers headed towards the stairs. A hold-up occurred with the lead doctor who ran the hospital, as his body language indicated he needed a favor.

"Chris, will you sign this? It's for my—," said the man in charge of the entire medical facility.

"Sure, but next time you need to write Mrs. Claus earlier." 

"How's your headaches?" asked Dr. Timmerman, Santa's personal physician. 

"Better," Chris said with a smile, "Thank you for doing that MRI. Did you or any of your friends see anything concerning?"

"I've always loved your signature," said the M.D., not listening, "My wife will treasure this forever."

Wally frowned at Dr. Timmerman with the lack of response. Chris added instructions to his doctor for not answering his simple medical inquisition. "I need you to take this to a boy named James in Queens. Bring him this as fast as you can." 

"Me? Are you serious? You want me to deliver this?" asked the man in a white lab coat with a signed pink box in his other hand. 

"I'd do it right away," said Wally laughing, straightening his tuxedo as his way of scolding the M.D., "Rumors have it he went through quite a tragedy when he was four and we don't want him turning out bad." 

"Anything for you," said the physician directly to Wally, accepting a package with a red Kangol inside.

"Farmers Boulevard...don't be late," Chris added, slipping in a piece of paper with the boy's name and address.

Beat and wrapped up from his last thirty-six hours of work, the world's greatest gift-giver headed towards the elevator. The multiple signature requests surprised some of the staff, although several acknowledged they didn't believe in Santa anymore. One man claimed it had been a decade since he received a Christmas present at all, while another admitted a new 1987 Acura Legend in her driveway. Personal beliefs put aside, everyone on the rooftop agreed—if anyone needed a gift on Christmas, it was a sick child on this exact day of the year.

As part of the group made their way down the stairs, a few nurses stayed back and questioned their boss. One nurse asked, "Is Santa OK? What's up with the MRI?" 

"He gets headaches," answered the tall and lanky Dr. Timmerman, "The radiologist found out last week he's got a unique brain like Albert Einstein. They saw enlarged cranial nerves, which explains some of the issues with his nervous system."

"Is he going to be OK?" 

"He'll be fine," said the head M.D., ready to leave for Queens. "Only his brainstem is involved. Nothing we can't figure out later."

The nurse and Dr. Timmerman decided to take the stairs, as everyone else packed like sardines in the ice-cold elevator. With a chime of a car alarm and no one around, the new sleigh closed its doors with a mind of its own. It hovered upward for a second, then slightly higher, somehow gaining a few feet of altitude in total silence. With no one else to witness, except those holding rifles, the new sleigh magically disappeared into the atmosphere. One whistle behind closed elevator doors—and the reindeer sat down. That's when the Colonel breathed a sigh of relief.

As the deliveries to the children got underway, the sneaky brother moved swiftly from room to room. He needed to stay composed—yet arrive at room 572 as quickly as possible. Never one to rush himself, Chris lingered for a while and said to each ill child.

"I've always got the perfect gift, 

since the first year I began. 

Enjoy your present and get better, 

for I know you surely can." 

Parents found it healing that Santa would sit at the foot of each bed. It was, indeed, a technique he established with his acquaintance in Yankee pinstripes. But without notice, while all eyes were on the gift on the bed, his black suede boots slid away on the slippery white tile. While no one heard him wisp away, there was a bounce in his step and a groove in his stride. Nothing made him happier than voicing his poem to children of all ethnicities.

Because time was of the essence, Chris left before any gift was opened. Presenting something and then disappearing was a talent he developed in his youth. After each offering, families normally sat mesmerized and asked themselves, "Where did he go?" never getting a chance to say "Thank you." Sadly, and even more ironically, no parent truly believed the man who just left was, in fact—the real Santa Claus.

No one inside the hospital could comprehend the stamina it took to travel around the world. None had been a part of this marathon, which started in Russia—almost 30 hours earlier. But finally, after everything was complete, the tired holiday man headed toward the finish line. One last gift to relinquish.

Mr. Christopher Clause Kringle arrived right on time. Wally held the door open like a security guard as the maternity suite revealed a sleeping mother who had undergone a C-section about an hour earlier. The room's only nurse tucked in a pink blanket around the newborn, with only the face to be seen. The infant's large eyes indicated she was wide awake and was as healthy as could be. The tired mother lay quiet, heavily medicated, then closed her eyes as Santa entered. His eyes immediately scanned the area, noting the wooden rocking chair and the matching wooden briefcase. Inside the suitcase were several things. Most importantly, an envelope formally addressed and stamped; "To: Mr. Christopher Kringle, 1 Main Street, Village of Elf, North Pole," with an open letter indicating the woman's intentions. It had already been established, per Wally's instructions, that the patient and her daughter didn't desire anything materialistic. She simply wanted Santa to rock her newborn to sleep.

When the devoted holiday man arrived, the lethargic woman simply closed her eyes. She promptly returned to her post-surgical state as Wally placed her gift on the nightstand to open when awake. Both brothers admired the courage this must have taken, as Chris kissed her hand gently, then quietly added, "I'm so sorry your husband couldn't be here."

Immediately after these caring words were pronounced, Nurse Ana noticed several children in the doorway. Apparently, these kids had questions for the man delivering toys, so she quietly asked Wally, "Is it OK if these children come in?"

Hearing Nurse Ana's voice from the other side of the room, Chris took off his hat and gathered his thoughts. He smiled at the charming Columbian caregiver and responded with a delightful tone. "The more, the merrier," he said, "I will always make myself available during December."

Wally signaled for the kids to enter. His left wrist exposed a Casio calculator watch, then indicated with his right index finger where the kids should sit. He then advised the youthful ones, "You can come in, but you need to keep it down. There's a new baby who needs Santa's attention."

Seven holiday-dressed youngsters entered the room, ranging in age from four to ten. Each took a turn examining the empty bags—and looked inside with several questions. Nurse Ana understood these children on the maternity floor would soon have a younger sibling of their own, as she attended to her patient and whispered something in her ear. 

The kids stood in awe at the holiday man, now daydreaming out the window. Nurse Ana spoke up again, wondering if Chris heard her the first time. "Excuse me, Chris, is it OK if these children ask you some questions?"

Staring out the fifth-floor window, overlooking the city he adored, Santa took a gander at the snowflakes landing on the rooftops and a hint of morning sunlight reflecting off the glass. He still had a few minutes to spare and decided now was the perfect opportunity for another teaching moment.

"I know it would mean a lot to them, and if it's not too much to ask, but while you rock the baby to sleep—these kids would like to know more about your past." 

The bearded brother turned around and answered softly. "Of course. But if they'd like to know more about my life, have them listen carefully—I've got a big secret to share."

All seven kids found space on the floor.

Guarding the entrance, Wallace noted two police officers manning the elevator doors. He nodded to them and looked at Chris, knowing what his brother was about to say. Wally then confirmed, "You're good. This floor is secure."

Santa stood proud and prepared to address the youth. He couldn't wait to state this unknown secret with someone other than adults. With a chest full of confidence, he addressed all in attendance. He scanned each set of eyes one more time, then finally spoke up. "You know, kids, four score and seven years ago, my mother gave birth to me, right here, downstairs."

One of the youngsters snickered and seemed confused with the terms. She spoke up with a student-like voice as if 572 were her classroom. "What does that mean?" the little girl asked with a cute little chuckle. 

The beautiful Colombian nurse added, "Yeah—I've heard that too. I think one of my high school teachers once mentioned those words."

The man in red understood what he was doing. He was giving a subtle history lesson while he had everyone's attention. He also wanted to ensure the children knew who Wally was, so he added, "Kids, I'd like you to meet my adopted brother Wally. He's the best big brother in the world, and I wouldn't be alive without him. But while he's here—let's teach you something important. What I said a second ago, is actually a play on words. Abraham Lincoln used that phrase to start his Gettysburg Address—the greatest speech ever written. A 'score' simply means twenty, and 'four score' means eighty. It's my way of saying I was born in this hospital... exactly 87 years ago."

The oldest boy, fairly good at math, blurted out, "So you were born in 1900? You're older than dirt!"

Another inner-city boy joked, "Yeah, you're older than my grandma—and she can't even walk!"

The brother with rosy red cheeks giggled at the remarks and strummed his beard. It was a fact he had waited his entire life to make this claim, even though his brain tried to use this quote all year long. He was finally glad to discover the perfect audience to use this brilliant expression to indicate his birthday, which seemed like yesterday.

"You're funny," said Ana, thinking the good-looking gift-giver was cute and a little comical. "Here's a bottle, and there's a blanket. Thank you, Christopher. It was nice to see you again."

Tired Santa sat down as the R.N. handed him the newborn. Oddly, and maybe emotionally, he seemed confused with what to do. "What's her name?" Chris asked under his breath while holding the fragilest of gifts wrapped in the softest of cottons. 

The nurse winked at Chris as he got situated in the old wooden chair. The forty-year-old woman laughed as Santa moved the pad under his butt to find a more desirable location for his tush. "Just relax," Nurse Ana said, "Here's the remote for the TV, and this one's for the VCR. I'll be right outside if you need anything."

"What do I do?" asked Santa, "I've never had to do this before."

"Just act natural," Nurse Ana said, "Why don't you tell these kids more about you? Look at them—they all have questions."

 All but one youngster had an arm in the air. One little girl was too shy to put up her hand, so Chris called on her first.

"Santa... how do reindeer fly?" 

Both Kringle brothers realized it had been years since this topic was discussed, especially with any human below the Northern regions of Canada. Chris answered without hesitation, while Wally didn't budge. "Well, Makena my dear, reindeer can fly because they have hollow bones similar to birds. Their osseous structure is lightweight and not solid like ours. It's something we figured out several years ago, and this whole topic relates to how animals adapt over time?"

Wally snickered, then filled in a crucial missing detail, "Have you kids learned about Charles Darwin yet?"

Five of the seven nodded their heads. Even Nurse Ana acknowledged this biologist before she left. Wally appeared content that Chris phrased things correctly, even though some kids may not comprehend the Latin word "osseous" really means bone. 

As the door shut, with Nurse Ana out of the room, Santa continued in a teacher-like fashion, "Our special species of reindeer is only found at the North Pole. None of you kids were alive back then, but around forty years ago, they almost went extinct. It is a little-known fact that reindeer also eat what birds eat—which is berries, seeds, and leaves. But the two things they truly enjoy—are carrots and grapes in the middle of winter."

Each child smiled with this wave of information. None on the floor had been informed of these secrets before today. With several hands still in the air, the youngest boy was called on next. His Christmas sweater indicated he was a believer by the markings on his chest. 

"Santa, how come you live so long?"

"Well..." Chris said, "Wally and I moved up to the North Pole in 1957. It's really cold up there, but—"

Wally interrupted his brother, who sometimes had issues divulging too many details. He jumped in before another word left his lips. "What my little brother is trying to say—is best understood this way. Do any of you children understand why we put fruits and vegetables in the refrigerator?"

All seven kids shook their heads "no."

Wally continued, "It's because food lasts longer in a colder environment... and so do people. That's the secret how my brother lives so long, but you can't tell anyone, especially your friends. Santa here is 87—and his last CT scan showed the bone density of a thirty-year-old."

Chris smiled at the perfect choice of words. It finally felt good to explain his age, and Wally always had age-appropriate answers. Yet somehow, the brother in the tuxedo, could share secrets that never included the bad guys—better known as the Confraters. Wally's keen sense avoided this topic with younger children and wouldn't ever mention this evil group to anyone under 5th grade.

The oldest boy then spoke out of turn. He slapped the cold white tile with a mountain of attitude. “My older brother says you're not real. He doesn't believe in you anymore, so you need to tell me the truth!"

"I've never lied about anything," Chris said calmly as Wally nodded his head in agreement, “Up at the North Pole, Wally and I have hundreds of documents that prove our existence. In case you kids haven't realized it yet, our goal is to teach everyone the importance of being kind."

"Exactly," Wally said, leaving his position to address the oldest child, "Our mission is to teach kids like you, why it's important to be nice. If you'd like to stay and learn more about Santa, use a respectful tone, or you can leave immediately."

Clearly, it had been a while since the oldest boy had a finger pointed in his chest. The slight tear in his eye indicated Wally's seriousness.

Chris then spoke softly to the boy who questioned his validity, "How old are you, Joshua? What are you now—ten?”

Josh sat up and smiled, amazed by the guess in age. All the other children, however, didn't even flinch.

"My brother has a photographic memory," Wally claimed passionately, "He knows all your names, all your addresses, and even all your birthdays. Anything else he needs—comes directly from me, and I'm in contact with all your teachers."

“Alright. That's enough,” Chris said, ready to get started, “Who wants to know more about my life?"

Each child sat in total delight, beaming with excitement to hear the story of Chris Kringle's real life.

Rocking backward and forwards while looking up at the TV, the youngest Kringle brother reflected on everything his family had accomplished. He thought about how much the world had changed in the last nine decades. The thoughts of loved ones passed through his brain. He envisioned his mentors, who taught him right from wrong, and his great ancestor—whom most knew better as Saint Nicholas. Wally sensed the tragedies going through his brother's head and finally realized they'd be here for quite some time.

"Why don't you start with your mother," Wally said as he returned to his position.

"I don't think they're old enough," Chris answered truthfully, "This generation won't comprehend babies being abandoned."

"I'd like to hear that part of the story," Nurse Ana said, bending down to check on her patient, "And please—don't sugarcoat your life. If we can all learn about your past, maybe we won't end up making the same mistakes as our ancestors."

Before Chris spoke about his mother, he pulled out a 100-year-old picture from his wallet. The single-lone name "Natasha" appeared on the back. As he began to speak about Natasha, the infant seemed to relax in the comfort of his words. The children sat quietly as the only patient in the room was now fast asleep and resting peacefully. She was doing fine. Christopher Clause Kringle found pleasure in telling his tale, which had never been described until now.

The holiday man glared deep into the infant's eyes, returned the bottle to her mouth, and continued in a subtle, caring, and loving way. When he stopped talking, the newborn would rustle and stir. In particular, the baby seemed to enjoy the sound of his voice. It was music to her newborn ears.

None of the children expected Santa to stay here forever. Wally knew the reindeer needed to be home, asleep in their nests—before sunrise the next day. Then Chris had an idea and signaled for Nurse Ana to close the drapes, “You know, children, my very own mother was lucky to survive. But if you close your eyes and listen carefully, you can hear the sound of the day she was born right now...”

The kids on the floor did precisely what they were told when another pregnant mother screamed through the thin hospital walls. Santa then told the story about his life, which no one, absolutely no one, had heard until now.

(AT THE END OF EACH CHAPTER, PICTURES WILL BE USED TO TEACH REAL HISTORY)

Santa's reindeer enjoy "bird food" (berries, seeds, and leaves). But did you know they also love carrots and grapes in the middle of winter.

Aestivation (summer sleep) and Hibernation (winter sleep) are common in the animal kingdom. Most people don't realize reindeer sleep during the day and go through aestivation during the summer. There is another species that also sleeps in the summer but does not like Santa—you’ll find out why later. Hint: they are one of the oldest species alive.

Chapter #1 Santa Secret—  Did you recognize the boy James from Queens who Dr. Timmerman needed to see? Do you know who this is? Think about it for a second… James, Queens, 1987, red Kangol, Farmers Blvd., and he’s being bad. If you know who this is— good for you. If not, it’s LL COOL J, one of the first (and one of the best) rappers and music producers of all time. The choice of words used in this section will also be a clue to the real people mentioned in this book series. Notice in the next paragraph Santa was "Beat and wrapped up—" that was a highlighted hint. Rappers use beats. When words or phrases seem a little "off"—there's normally a hidden message to be exposed later.

 
Similarly—yes, Santa's reindeer sleep in "large nests" because of their birdlike DNA. While reindeer do truly exist in Northern climates, only this "special species" of deer have hollow bones and build nests high up in the trees. These fictitious creatures will be used to teach other topics as well. In this story, everything around the belly of the earth is historically accurate, while the North Pole is...how shall we say it...magical.

Many famous people, places, and events are hidden throughout this journey. Keep an eye out for clues and try to remember every name, number, and place. Example: "The Lipstick Building" in this chapter will eventually relate to Wally's distrust of Bernie Madoff and his illegal Ponzi scheme which took place on the 17th floor during this era. This will be the only chapter a few of these Santa secrets will be spelled out for you. The rest is up to you to figure out on your own. All this evidence will be used to prove (or disprove) if Christopher and Wallace are alive today.

Famous surviving photo of Abraham Lincoln during the Civil War - (Gettysburg, 1863)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abraham_Lincoln#/media/File:Lincoln's_Gettysburg_Address,_Gettysburg,_highlighted_version.png

Abraham Lincoln waited two hours for U.S. Secretary of State Edward Everett (center, speaking, top hat, white shawl) to finish his oration before starting his famous 3-minute speech—better known as “The Gettysburg Address."

The Battle of Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, 1863, was the bloodiest battle and the turning point of the U.S. Civil War—to END slavery. President Lincoln's speech is considered one of the best in history and has been replicated by the greatest orators time and time again. Only two surviving photos of Lincoln were taken that day. Both were captured before the speech. None during or after.

A copy of this original photo is kept in a secure place at the North Pole. It's part of telling the story to reveal hidden historical evidence. As you're about to find out, the Kringle brothers keep many valuable items hidden from the rest of the world. This book series is filled with facts, historical secrets, and real documents which are not explained in school. With that said—don't believe everything you read. Do your own research and make your own decision, much like Chris and Wally have advised. Like they told me, Dr.P, the truth will set you free.

Refer to the prior picture. Notice the white circle and square.

SQUARE: In 1952, the U.S. National Archives claimed this to be Abraham Lincoln. As of 2021, the Library of Congress, The Smithsonian, and Wikipedia currently agree this is him. Most historians don’t debate this. Some people, however, like the Kringle Brothers—have their doubts. The man in the square looks to be of average height, does not have thick eyebrows, and is NOT wearing a white shawl. Also, President Lincoln rarely wore a mustache—just a goatee. Finally, like Mr. Everett (center/speaking)—President Lincoln wore a top hat for his famous speech, as claimed by all in attendance.

CIRCLE: Chris Kringle believes this is Honest Abe. Examine the profile and compare. This man is taller, has defined cheekbones, and has thick eyebrows. Bonus fact—his top hat is resting on his left elbow while wearing a shawl. All the speakers (or people of importance) are wearing a white garment from right shoulder to left hip, thus indicating the significance of the day’s events. Mr. Everett is also wearing a white shawl. Could this be Lincoln in the circle? Is this him holding his hat, with a white garment flowing under his crossed arms? It sure appears to be. Did the U.S. government and history books get this wrong? How come the Kringle family knows this information?

While it’s hard to prove which person is truly Abraham Lincoln, it’s fun to discuss and debate. Similarly, many adults still don’t think Chris Kringle is alive. Sit back and enjoy—there are hundreds of secrets the Kringle brothers want to share with you. This information will help you understand several aspects of life. The goal of this story is to educate the youth while having fun at the same time. Get ready. This was just a warm-up topic to ease you into what is coming next. 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abraham_Lincoln

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abraham_Lincoln#/media/File:Lincoln's_Gettysburg_Address,_Gettysburg,_highlighted_version.png

Washington, D.C. - Lincoln Monument (words added)

The Kringle brothers love good people. Abraham Lincoln is one of their favorites. Can you imagine a President today—not being recorded with pictures, film, television, or social media while giving one of the greatest speeches in history? What makes Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address so important? Why has this style of speechwriting been duplicated millions of times? Here’s how ten sentences changed the world:

1. PAST - Lincoln talks about prior and original goals, this ties people together.
2. PRESENT -  it shows there is a problem, a crossroads, a decision needs to be made.
3. FUTURE - the answer, by using simple words “we and here,” he gives us the solution.
4. CALL TO ACTION -  he lets “the people” make the right decision to end slavery, but the answer was already stated, thus creating an even stronger bond between all involved.

Knowing this format of speech writing is a powerful tool for students and adults alike. Do you want to give a great lecture in class or next business meeting? Follow these simple steps: 

                                      Past —>  Present —>  Future —>  Call to Action

The Kringle Brothers will use this knowledge throughout their lifetime—once later in this book.

For more information on this subject, visit www.chriskringle.com