The first sound is a booming laugh, echoing through the mall. “Ho, ho, ho!” It announces his arrival before anyone even sees the flash of red. Santa Claus is here.
On a bustling Saturday morning, a wave of smiles washes over the crowd at Tysons Corner Center. Children and adults alike are captivated by the sight of a truly classic Santa – a bushy beard, rosy cheeks, and twinkling glasses perched on his nose.
This isn’t just a costume; this is Michael Graham, a man who embodies the spirit of Christmas. For 37 years, he’s held court at this very mall, a beacon of joy tucked away near a quiet hallway.
He doesn’t just *look* like Santa; he *is* Santa. Even out of the suit, children recognize the warmth in his eyes, the gentle kindness that radiates from him. It’s a testament to the dedication he pours into the role.
Forty years he’s been doing this, starting each November with long, demanding shifts that stretch until Christmas Eve. Yet, fatigue never diminishes his enthusiasm. It’s a calling, not just a job.
“You have to have a mentality of joy,” Graham explains, his voice filled with genuine warmth. “It’s about spreading that joy to every single child.” He understands the weight of the role, the importance of fulfilling the magic.
The line to see him is long, a vibrant mix of anticipation and excitement. One mother, adorned with candy cane earrings, gently urges her sons to be patient. Another soothes a sobbing toddler nestled in Santa’s lap.
This year’s wish lists are a fascinating glimpse into young hearts. Labubus and Legos are popular, but a four-year-old dreams of a pink water bottle, and a five-year-old longs for the beat of drums.
Graham’s journey to becoming Santa was accidental. Forty years ago, a last-minute cancellation at a Tennessee Christmas parade left a void. He stepped in, and a legacy was born.
He balances his life as Santa with running a construction company back in Tennessee, making the annual trek to Virginia for two months of pure Christmas magic. It’s a commitment fueled by passion.
His dedication hasn’t gone unnoticed. Years ago, when mall management attempted to replace him, a fierce outpouring of support – thousands of calls, emails, and even a threatened boycott – ensured he remained the beloved Santa of Tysons Corner.
He encounters hundreds of children each shift, each with a unique story and a heartfelt wish. He’s heard requests for everything imaginable, from mimosa trees to waterfalls, always responding with kindness and a touch of playful wonder.
But some requests cut deeper. A little girl once confided that all she wanted was her mother back. The memory stayed with Graham, a poignant reminder of the power of hope and the pain of loss.
It’s not just children who seek him out. Adults, too, come to share their hopes and dreams. A 103-year-old woman simply wished for more time with her family, a sentiment that resonated deeply.
“As you get older, you realize stuff is just stuff,” Graham reflects. “The most precious thing is time.” He’s learned profound lessons from the countless encounters over the years.
Families travel from across the country to continue their tradition of visiting *this* Santa. Generations have grown up with him, creating memories that last a lifetime.
Caitlin Vierra, who visited Graham as a child, now brings her own children. “It makes me want to cry,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “It’s just really special, so heartwarming and nostalgic.”
“I’m in a lot of people’s families,” Graham says with quiet pride. That connection is what keeps him coming back, year after year. “What’s the one thing that you want as a human? To be loved.”
During a rare break, he retreats to his suite – a former women’s powder room. He removes his hat, revealing damp, matted hair from the heat of the costume. It’s a moment of quiet respite.
The room is a glimpse behind the scenes: spare costumes, shoe polish, red suspenders, and a comforting bag of peppermints. It’s a practical space, but filled with the magic of the season.
He has no plans to retire. “It’s not something that drags me down,” he says, his eyes twinkling. “Until the Lord says it’s time to stop,” he’ll continue to spread joy, one child, one wish, at a time.
