Ever since I was a fairly young kid, I was always bothered by the story of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. Yes, boys and girls, you know the one. Rudolph was born a smaller than usual sized reindeer and had an ackwardly shining red nose. As a matter of fact, had you ever seen his nose, you’d even say it glowed. All of his fellow reindeers used to laugh and call Rudolph names. Rudolph was subsequently ostrasized and kept from partaking in the social activities of reindeers of his age. Then one foggy Christmas Eve when Santa saw that his only real significant day of work for the year was going to be little more difficult than normal due to the weather, he came up with a brilliant and opportunistic idea: Hey, why don’t I put that freak-of-nature Rudolph with his nose so bright up in front of my cavalry like a hood ornament to gide my sleigh tonight. And here is what bothers me the most:
It isn’t until Santa finds some use for the freakish Rudolph (so Santa doesn’t have to work so hard) that Rudolph is finally accepted by his peers. I could never stand this part of the story. Everyone thinks about how kind Santa was and how the other reindeers finally rectified their ways. Rudolph then goes down in history. Ever since I was a kid, I always felt great compassion for all of the misfits and hated when they were teased. I always did my best to befriend them (I think I got this from my grandmother), regardless of often regretting it because I could never get rid of any of them later.
In any event, the sad moral of Rudolph’s plight is that he is not accepted until the head of the clan, Kris Kringle himself, finds use for Rudolph’s anomaly. The moral should have been that Rudolph was to be accepted as is, regardless of a strange nose or being of some special use to the boss. I bet some of those reindeers probably still made fun of Rudolph behind his back because they were jealous that Santa put him on the front line. I can only imagine what kind of names they were calling Santa’s petite little red-nosed helper.