This is a work of fiction that I created in second grade. I was just beginning to write. I had not yet learned proper punctuation. I cringe reading this from that aspect, but I transcribed it below in its original form. I remember vividly that my father is the inspiration for the character of Johnney Moore, and my grandmother (Omie) is the inspiration for the old man in the story. An interesting sign of the times, a homeless person had to be a man in my mind, how could a woman live on her own? Of course, she was never homeless, rather the character represents what matters in her heart.
I tried to write these thoughts in a poem, when I had the time, but they simply wouldn’t rhyme. You see, I have a story about a day in May.
I was walking down a street moving to a different beat than the “poor” street I strolled down, in the old side of town.
I was simply looking to return a beaten hat that I found at the edge of the school yard, to a boy who had life hard.
Not familiar with the sad side of the tracks, I stopped to ask an old man for direction who I new carried his home on his back.
I explained my wish to cure my sympathy with the return of the hat. The old man sighed then sat.
Does what this boy so poor call himself?
“Johnney Moore,” I say.
“You an only child?” In a mild sort of way, I wanted to say, “Hey, just tell me the way.”
But my curiosity sat me down beside the old tan faced man.
“Yes, how did you guess?” I said instead.
“Is this poor Johnney Moore? Is he bad? Does he have a mom and dad?” asked the old man, “Is he smart and good at heart?”
“I….I…don’t know…” I stuttered.
“Does he express greed or just need?” the old man questioned.
Reading the confusion in my expression, he explained.
“You’re not sure of the meaning of treasure,” the old man enlighten me. To sum up what the man said:
Love is gold
True is value
Friendship and companionship is rich.
While money’s little, greed is without need and loneliness lurks with dislike.
It was simple and I understood the old man’s mood. As he stood, the old man inquired, “Where do you find a boy so poor as to not have love?”
I didn’t know, and suddenly felt low. So I shook my head.
There are children without my kind of “gold”, “value”, and “rich”. I want you to have to have in mind these I look to find.
“Why?” I asked.
“I become a friend to such a boy, so I may show the boy the joy in the way of God.”
Well I said, you need no more to look for Johnney Moore.