By no right should I actually have Christmas memories. I grew up in the house of a militant agnostic--one William Paul Coates. We did not celebrate a single holiday except birthdays. We actually fasted until sundown on Thanksgiving. (I'm considering going back to that, but that's another post.) My dad worked virtually every day, if not at his job at Howard, then at his small publishing company, which he ran out our basement. His shadow is such that, even now, I can think of nothing better then to spend Christmas Day working on my book. But family is different for me, in these times.
Nadia Lopez didn't think anybody cared about her middle school. Then Humans of New York told her story to the Internet—and everything changed.