The Country Santa

It’s four weeks until Christmas, and the Country Santa’s workshop is crammed floor to ceiling with stuffed animals, toys, and games. Nutcracker soldiers elbow for room near the door, curly-haired dolls peer down from high shelves, and bins bulge with puzzles, trucks, and crayons.

By 7 a.m. on Christmas Eve, cars will line up outside this workshop in Pumpkintown, S.C., (pop. 30) as hundreds of “elves” of all ages arrive to gather plastic sacks filled with toys and deliver them to some 2,000 underprivileged children in five rural neighboring counties. By mid-afternoon, as the deliveries wind down, Country Santa will hop into his 1978 red Jeep pickup “sleigh” and set out in search of any kids who might have been overlooked.

Buddy Cox has been playing Country Santa for so long now that he’s delivered to some children whose parents received his gifts two decades ago.

It all began in 1978 with a withdrawn 6-year-old named Mary Ann. While her classmates shared their shiny new toys after Christmas break, the little girl played with her only gift: an already tattered doll. Cox—whose wife Nelle, a teacher, had relayed the story—bought Mary Ann the biggest, most expensive doll he could find.

“It gave her a feeling that somebody cared,” recalls Cox, 51. “It gave her a feeling of hope.”

And it gave Cox, himself the adoptive father of three sisters, an overwhelming feeling of joy. He did the same for several more local kids, and word quickly spread to teachers, ministers, and agency representatives. Letters addressed to “Country Santa, South Carolina” soon filled his mailbox.

After several years of buying all the gifts and working from his dining-room table, Cox built the cedar workshop across from his house and recruited some helpers—people in and around his community who care as much as he does.

These days, area residents donate checks, new and used toys, and grocery-store gift certificates. One couple repairs as many as 300 bicycles a year. Elementary students conduct toy drives, and preschoolers collect pennies and nickels.

As Christmas approaches, elves, including Cub Scouts and senior citizens, crowd the workshop, selecting gifts for each family on Country Santa’s list.

Unlike many social-services programs, Cox gives gifts to kids as old as 18. Unfortunately, the selection of radio headsets, cosmetic kits, and other gifts for older youth is usually sparse—a fact that hits close to home.

Cox grew up in the small town of Cross Hill, S.C. At 10, when his father left the family, Cox began picking cotton and working other odd jobs to help support his mom and two sisters. He is no stranger to need.

Now, his program has spawned several others, including a major toy drive in Charleston. And it often brings out the best in the elves.

“When we went shopping, there were absolutely no baseballs,” one mother wrote. “My 9-year-old son did not want someone to receive a glove without a ball, so he donated his. We’re sorry it’s not new.”

Two years ago, a burly man walked up to Cox with tears in his eyes. “Years ago when we were down and out and had nothing, you gave us Christmas,” the man said. “Now I’m here to help you.”

And there are the kids who receive the Christmas surprises. Like the little boy who received the used bike with an infant seat still attached because there had been no time to remove it. Just as Cox was about to apologize, the child exclaimed, “Oh boy, now I can take my baby sister riding up and down the driveway!”

That’s why Country Santa shuts down his waste-treatment equipment company in December and empties his own pockets to make sure kids have gifts.

“When you bump into people in parking lots that give you a hug because you helped them, that’s better than a big bank account,” he explains.

Nancy Bearden Henderson is a freelance writer in Gastonia, N.C.

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