It’s Jamal, from the ghetto, writing to you this year. Mommy says I can write to you and ask you what I want for Christmas and then she’ll mail it and it’ll be under the tree when I wake up. This might be hard to put under the tree though. I want Mom to smile more often, I don’t want her to have to work so hard. I want a real Christmas dinner, with a big ham and everything, ‘cause I know my big sister is as hungry at night as I am. I know she’s lying when she says she can’t finish her dinner. It’s ‘cause I’m a growing boy and she wants me to have it. I know it might be asking a lot Santa, but if you could just give this ghetto family a real Christmas this year, I promise I’ll be good.
Every year I help out at my local middle school’s Christmas Breakfast where kids come, listen to music, play games and write letters to Santa. Two years ago, I was handed a letter just like this one. I smiled at the little boy, tried not to cry, folded it and put it in the box “To the North Pole.”