Mom watched me reach into my cereal bowl to take another candy. She leaned forward and rested her elbows on the kitchen table and commented, “Saint Nicholas was very generous with you again this year.” Today, the feast of Saint Nicholas was a red-letter day. I circled December 6^th on the calendar each year and looked forward to it with excitement. It didn’t matter that I no longer believed in Santa Claus, now that I was eleven years old. I enjoyed the yearly tradition of receiving pre-Christmas candy.

Happily chewing the chocolate-covered caramel I’d just popped into my mouth, I grinned and agreeably answered, “Oh! Yes!” but with my mouth so full, my words sounded more like I had hummed them. Early winter darkness had settled over our farmyard an hour ago. Daddy and my brother Billy were in the barn milling the cows.

Last night at bedtime, my brothers and sisters placed cereal bowls on the kitchen table where we usually sit to eat meals, as we do each December 5^th. We put letters to Santa in the bowls, in which we tell him what gifts we want to receive for Christmas. During the night, Saint Nicholas takes the letters and fills our bowls with peanuts, candy canes, and chocolate bridge mix.

I found my treat-filled bowl this morning when I came down to eat breakfast. Mom let me have a few pieces of candy, but said I had to leave the rest until after school. I thought about eating candy all day!

My classmates and I were restless all day at school and had a hard time keeping our minds on the lessons our teacher, Mrs. Miller, wanted us to learn. Then there was a big surprise after the afternoon recess. When we filed back into our classroom, we found small brown paper bags on every desk. The bags were from Saint Nichloas, and contained oranges, candy canes, popcorn balls, Christmas taffy, and peanuts.

Deciding to switch from candy to peanuts, I began to shell one and asked, “Mom, did you get candy on the feast of Saint Nicholas, too, when you were my age?”

Mom smiled mysteriously and nodded. She explained, “One year Saint Nicholas even visited us in person and was accompanied by Black Pete.”

I turned to look at Mom’s face to see if I could tell if she was kidding or not. “Who is Black Pete?” I questioned, feeling surprised and shocked. I’d never heard of a Black Pete going around with Saint Nicholas. It sounded like an unlikely friendship! Someone with the name of black Pete sounded like a bad person, while Saint Nicholas was kind and loving.

Launching into her reminiscence, Mom explained, “Ma and Pa were both out in the barn doing chores that night. I was one of the younger children in the family, and we had been told to stay in the house. No adults were in the house when we heard horse harness bells jingling out on the lawn. Then, we heard someone scratching at our living room window. We were terrified, and didn’t know what to do!

Several minutes later, the back door slammed open and a big man wearing church vestments walked into the house. He was followed by a smaller, soot-smeared man carrying a basket.

The man was Saint Nicholas himself! He asked us if we always obeyed our parents, “Do you do the chores they tell you to do? Only well-behaved children will receive candy.” All the while Saint Nicholas was talking to us, Black Pete was leaping around the room, demanding to know which children were naughty. He was there to punish them.” My brothers and I were speechless with fright!

Forgetting to put the shelled peanuts into my mouth, I stared at Mom, shocked by her never-heard-before childhood story. Gathing my wits, I slowly questioned, “Who were your visitors?”

Shrugging, Mom said, “Saint Nicholas and Black Pete.”

Slamming my fist on the table, I demanded, “No, really…who were they?”

“We never found out. Ma and Pa claimed they hadn’t sent anyone to visit us. The next day Pa found strange footprints in the snow by the living room window where we’d heard the scratching.”

In a reassuring voice, I advised, “Those men had to be neighbors who dressed up as Saint Nicholas and Black Pete. They just wanted to give you younger kids in the family a treat and to scare you into good behavior at the same time.”

Shaking her head, Mom said with certainty, “No. They weren’t neighbors. Believe me, we knew everyone in our farm community. Those men were strangers!”

Mom’s mysterious story made the sensation of goose bumps race from my scalp down each of my arms and legs. Shivering, I popped a malted milk ball in my mouth and emphatically told her, “That was weird! I’m glad Saint Nicholes doesn’t pal around with Black Pete anymore!”

Saint Nicolas and Black Pete

The real saint Nicholas lived during the fourth century in Myra, Turkey. He was a holy man who generously looked after the welfare of his people.

The legend of a man named Zwarte Piet, or Black Pete accompanying Saint Nicholas on his rounds didn’t appear until in recent centuries, primarily in Germany and the Netherlands.

Depending on who you ask, Black Pete is either a zealous servant, a fire-scorched demon, or a freshly redeemed soul.