Growing up poor in America, though I heard of the streets of gold, I had never actually seen them. In fact, I lived so far from those streets, I didn’t know anyone who had seen them. I remember the year I first saw those streets where money seemed to grow on trees. It was Christmas and my Mother was taking us to the nearest city to see Christmas lights. We drove up and down the streets of Highland Park and University Park in Dallas. It seems the cities with streets of gold were in parks. I remember seeing grand two story houses with large lawns. These houses had lights on the outside. We only had lights in the window, illuminating the foil wrapped TV antenna.
I remember seeing perfect trees through the windows, not like the lopsided tree we had cut from the back field. They not only decorated the trees inside their houses, they decorated every tree outside too. These children wouldn’t be getting used clothes their Grandmother mended and hemmed. They wouldn’t be getting used shoes that were too large. They wouldn’t know the thrilil of removing the tissue paper or newspaper in spring when they had grown enough to fit their shoes. These children made lists and Santa really brought them things from their lists. I never asked for anything because I already knew Santa didn’t bring children like me what we asked for.
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