You might hear a wacky conspiracy theory that Santa “died” when the modern version of him was created. For example, the poem ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas (1823) gave us the image of a “chubby and plump” elf. Then illustrator Thomas Nast drew him in the 1860s. And Coca-Cola made him red in the 1930s.
These folks say, “See? The old, skinny Santa died off!” That’s like saying the internet died when we switched from dial-up to Wi-Fi. He didn’t die; he upgraded from a horse and cart to a flying sleigh. Honestly, I think that’s a promotion, not a funeral.
So no, the jolly version of Santa hasn’t died. He just lost a few pounds of myth and gained a few pounds of marketing. And a beard that could house a small bird.
The Real Question: Does Santa Even Age?
Think about it. Santa has been delivering presents for centuries. If he aged like a normal human, he’d be a pile of dust in a sleigh. But somehow, he looks exactly the same every year. That’s because he’s a timeless archetype—like love, hope, or the smell of gingerbread.
He doesn’t follow the laws of physics, biology, or common sense. He can fit down any chimney, eat millions of cookies without getting diabetes, and still remember which kids were naughty or nice since 1840. That’s not a man—that’s a force of nature. Forces don’t die.
Who is Santa Claus and Where Did He Live? | BULB
So the next time someone asks you, “How old was Santa when he died?” you can reply with a grin: “He wasn’t. He’s perpetually 1,700 years old and looking for a new pair of reading glasses to check his list twice.”
