In 6th grade the year was 1995. I was given an assignment to write a Christmas story. Though now I’m an atheist, I can appreciate where I was trying to go with this. I lived in Cleveland, off Harvard and Broadway. Most households on my block and within a 10- mile radius of it were lower-middle to poverty- socioeconomic class. My father worked at Honeywell as a dispatcher from 5am until 4:30 pm every day of the week, and even some weekends and holidays. We were JUST able to live comfortably with a little help here and there from my grandfather.
That is much as I will say about the background of this 12 year old budding writer. Here’s the story scanned, as is. (I typed it on my dad’s typewriter, and illustrated the cover myself)