By Michael H. Brownstein
I asked my fourth-grade class a number of years back to write about Santa Claus’s visit to the projects. I was hopeful. I thought I might receive a variety of stories—some funny, some serious, some outright violent. Unfortunately, they were all violent. These are from children living in the Robert Taylor Homes, at the time the world’s largest public housing development. The high-rises are now torn down and gone. The school these students went to is abandoned. The essays will always resonate within me. Here are four samples, unedited and written from their hearts and souls:
Quindrell: One Christmas Eve, Santa Claus goes to people’s house and gives present (sic). Then he gets to my house in the projects. Santa Claus crawls on the wall with a rope and busts your window. Then he said, “Ho, ho, ho, merry Christmas.” Then they shot Santa in the mouth because they think he is a burglar.
Delia: One day Santa was coming to my house. He tried to go on the elevator and he got caught in the door. It smashed him ... I said, “What little hands you have Santa. What small feet you have Santa. What’s in the smashed bag Santa?” Everything was smashed. No one got anything.
James: When he gets out of his sled, he lets the rats watch it.... He knocked on the door and got hit with a pot of beans. The boys robbed his toys. He ran as fast as his belly could take him and he tripped over a piece of trash. He screamed, “Prancer, Dixon, Rudolph and Vixen, help me, I tripped over something.”
Maurice: Santa Claus came to my house but he could not get in. No chimney. He walked up to the second floor, but the door was locked. He had to pick the lock ... They beat him up and kicked him. He did not want to stay on the second floor. He went to the third floor ... The dog bit him ... He said, “Forget it. I want to live!”
| Copyright © 2021 by Michael H. Brownstein Michael H. Brownstein’s volumes of poetry, A Slipknot Into Somewhere Else and How Do We Create Love?, were published by Cholla Needles Press in 2018 & 2019, respectively. |
Michael, I’m sure the essays resonate with you all the more for your remembering the students who wrote them, picturing their faces, hearing them talk and laugh.
ReplyDeleteWhen I read your stuff I sometimes feel like I have no interesting stories to tell. Nothing like this. My God man. Although so far He seems to be batting zero...
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