Canutito had been todo excitão that morning porque his prima Virginia de Alburquerque was coming to spend the Christmas holiday con la familia. Pero Virginia had only been en la casa de grampo y grama for a little while cuando she declared, "I don't believe en Crismes. My teacher allá en Alburquerque told us en la clase que there is no reason to celebrar Christmas."

Canutito was hurt at the words de su prima. He had always believed in the goodness of este tiempo del año. He went over to Grampo Caralampio and whispered, "Mi prima Virginia just told me que there is no such thing as el Santo Niño."

"Ay, m'hijo," Grampo Caralampio said, shaking his cabeza, "Are you going to let gente que no saben nada about our tradiciones take them away from you? Let me tell you un cuento." He took Canutito on his lap and began:

"Everyone que te dice that el Santo Niño doesn't exist está mal. He is el autor de la vida, generosity y de la devoción. He is quien expresa the highest forma de beauty en la vida. Es como decir que there is no poetry en la vida or anything else que no se puede ver o sentir. It would be like saying que no hay una Virgen María either!" Grampo Caralampio said un poco más loud.

"Just who was el Santo Niño, grampo?" Canutito asked him.

"In order to understand eso," grampo said, "we have to go back hasta España. Munchos años pasados los Christians de España were fighting con sus neighbors los Moors y los Jews."

"Why were los Cristianos fighting con los Moros y los Judíos?" grampo, the little boy interrupted.

"Solamente porque tenían una different religión," grampo said. "In any case, they all fought por munchos siglos. Pero during all of that tiempo que they were making war, they would see a un niñito con una cape y sandals that would go primero al campo de los Cristianos and cure their wounds. Then he would go over to the campo de los Moros and cure their heridas también. Next he would go off into the campo de los Judíos y curarlos también. Todo esto went on por años y años. Nobody knew quién era este niñito who was always walking about como un peregrino."

"And who was this child who was walking about like a pilgrim curing a todos, grampo?" Canutito asked.

"The people used to call him 'el Santo Niño' porque he was the Holy Child himself. God, en la forma de un niño inocente, taught the people de España que He doesn't play favorites. He loves a todos del mundo regardless of their religión.

All people are sus hijos. Entonces, después de que they got the message, they all put their weapons down e hicieron la paz."

"Wow!" Canutito exclaimed, "do las otras naciones know about el Santo Niño?"

"Some," Grampo Caralampio replied, "los Germans, por ejemplo, le llaman el 'Christ Kindel', which means el Niño Cristo. Los Americanos have changed el nombre into el 'Chris Kringle' porque they don't know qué significa el nombre. No, m'hijo, to say que no hay un Santo Niño is like tearing apart el guaje de un baby to see what makes it rattle. Pero el velo del Santo Niño is so fuerte que not even the strongest man en el mundo could ever tear it apart. Sí, m'hijo, sí hay un Santo Niño, and don't ever let a nadien otro try to tell you otherwise."

Canutito slipped down del lap de su grampo and went into the kitchen where su prima Virginia was coloreando algo en el coloring book. She looked up at Canutito as he came in. He stood by the puerta de la cocina and declared loudly, "Sí, Virginia, there really is un Santo Niño! He lives para siempre. He will still be around en diez mil años and diez mil años after that and continue to warm los corazones de everybody who believes en Él!"

Virginia just stared at him como si estuviera loco ...

¿Le gustaría compartir sus propias anécdotas o comentar con Torres sobre esta columna? Envíele un correo electrónico a lartor@unm.edu.