— Christmas Eve delivery—

In 1983, Christmas was on a Saturday. On that day, a letter was delivered to a young boy. The night’s weather varied: sometimes it rained, sometimes it snowed, and other times it was bitterly cold. But amidst the darkness, there was still the light and hope of Jesus Christ’s birth, the world’s savior.
This Christmas Eve, Micheal Banister received a gift he still needs to open. He recalled leaving school three days before Christmas and his English professor apologizing repeatedly on the last day of class, telling him she was sorry. he didn’t understand what she was sorry for.
A large family always creates a lot of drama, especially during the holidays. Eight children will join us for Christmas this year, and one sister is pregnant while another won’t make it home. Michael’s older brother was busy renovating a house in Johnstown while his younger brother was finishing his first semester on another campus.

Michael, a 21-year-old college student with brown hair and a constant furrow between his eyebrows, had just received the dreaded letter from the school. It was Christmas Eve, and he had been working two jobs to get through College, but it seemed like it wasn’t enough.
As he quickly snatched the letter from the mailbox, his heart dropped. It was a letter from his College, which he would not open. His grades had been slipping, and he needed help to keep up with his classes. But he had hoped that this semester would be different. He had worked harder than ever, pulling all-nighters and sacrificing social events to study.
But it wasn’t enough. The unopened letter will confirm his worst fears: he had been academically dismissed. He knew this would happen, and the thought of telling his parents filled him with dread.
He shoved the letter in his pocket, hoping no one would notice it. He couldn’t bear facing his family’s disappointment and judgment. There was already enough drama at home, with his sister’s pregnancy and another sister unable to get home to distract everyone.
But as he sat at the dinner table that night, pretending everything was fine, the weight of the letter pulled at him, threatening to burst out and reveal his failure. Michael couldn’t think of anything as his mother went around the table, asking everyone what they were grateful for. He was too consumed with shame and regret. He wished he could pretend it never happened.
But deep down, he knew he couldn’t keep this a secret forever. Eventually, he would have to face the consequences of his actions. And for now, all he could do was try to enjoy this last Christmas with his family before they found out the truth.
The catchy jingles and upbeat music used in radio advertisements added a fun and lively tone to the intro to the advertising class. The sounds of laughter and discussions with classmates during breaks kept him optimistic for the future.
Despite his enthusiasm and enjoyment of the courses, he needed help with his grades. Due to his learning disability, the material was too complex for him to grasp, and he ended up receiving a D in all his classes.
This blew his confidence, and he felt like a failure. He had worked hard to support himself by maintaining an apartment and two jobs while providing for his car expenses. But despite all this responsibility, he couldn’t achieve academic success due to his disability.
As he tried to cope with these setbacks, he found solace in attending parties and socializing with friends. He kept a close circle of friends he regularly visited, often being the center of attention with his charismatic personality. However, little did he know that this attention was not for the right reasons.
His friends partied too much and often persuaded him to join them. Initially, he refused as he didn’t want to jeopardize his future, but after receiving constant pressure, he eventually gave in.
Before he knew it, his life started spiraling out of control. He stopped attending classes regularly, lost his job, and even got into trouble with the law. All this took a toll on his mental health, and he started struggling with depression and anxiety.
He stumbled through school, an outcast without a cause. Bullied and ridiculed, he couldn’t understand why he couldn’t keep up with his peers. All he knew was that he couldn’t grasp the numbers and letters on the page, no matter how hard he tried. His teachers, frustrated with his lack of progress, apologized for their shortcomings and not his. His parents, too preoccupied with their struggles, never noticed the signs of his learning disability.
He was left to figure it out alone, trudging each day with a sense of hopelessness. But deep down, he knew there was something more to his struggles. He could see the world differently, in colors and shapes that others couldn’t comprehend. His mind was a labyrinth of thoughts and ideas, constantly turning and churning. And yet, he couldn’t make sense of the simplest things.
So he retreated into himself, finding solace in books and nature. He became an observer, watching the world pass by, wondering if he would ever see his place in it. But despite the constant challenges, he couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope within him, a flicker of something greater waiting to be discovered.
Little did he know, his struggles were just the beginning of a journey leading him to unexpected places and a deeper understanding of himself and the world around him.
That Christmas Eve was a 40° cold and cold rain feeling. “Where is the snow,” he said to himself. “I’d feel better if there was snow”. Snow at Christmas makes the world less depressed outside and sad because when it snows at Christmas, there is a blanket of white on the ground, and it lets the earth get a good rest.
At the dinner table, he threw himself headfirst into the holiday season. Attending every party and event he could find. He was always the life of the party, making everyone laugh with his witty jokes and contagious energy.
As Christmas Eve rolled around, he gathered with his family for a traditional dinner and gift exchange. He couldn’t contain his excitement as he tore through the wrapping paper to reveal the new cassette tape recorder his parents had given him.
Overjoyed, he immediately called up his friends to make plans. On New Year’s Eve, they danced and laughed until midnight, when they popped open champagne bottles while watching fireworks light up the sky. It was a perfect start to the new year.
But as January rolled around and everyone returned to their busy lives, he felt restless again. He organized a video shoot for his band on Long Island Sound.
Michael returned to his apartment in New Paltz at the end of January. Having no college, no money, and no job and apartment to pay for, sitting on his bed and contemplating how to make the world work when he lived far away are the simple things like getting up in the morning and smelling the bakery next door. The Wildflower Café owner next door gave Michael a few more hours washing dishes to make more money, but it wasn’t enough to pay the rent. The College rebate check returned to him for not taking spring classes in 1984 would see him through the worst of the winter months.
At that moment, it hit him like a ton of bricks. The realization that something precious and irreplaceable was missing from his life. Something that he had tried to hold onto with all his might, that he had cherished and loved more than anything else. And now, it was gone forever.
He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was or when exactly it had slipped through his grasp. But he knew, deep down, that it was something that had once brought him immense joy and meaning. It was something that he had taken for granted, assuming that it would always be there. His earliest memories were of attending McClary Elementary School and Theodore Roosevelt Junior High School. Then, the Wilbur Lynch High School, Post junior college. And then the State University of New York at New Paltz. He had always been attending classes, which was all he knew. And now all that was gone.
But now, in its absence, he felt lost and hollow. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how he would fill the void that had been left behind.
And as he sat there, staring blankly at the space before him, he knew his life would never be the same again. Whatever he had lost took a piece of him with it, leaving him forever changed.
But still, he held onto the fragile hope that one day, somehow, he would find it again. “I will keep attending classes,” he said to himself.” That’s what I’ll do. I’ll keep attending classes. I’ll go to every professor and ask them if I could sit in on the class”. Let’s pretend to keep going to classes because as long as they can, the band he started with his friends is alive. They must never know. No man, no one must ever know”. He said to himself. And until then, he would keep searching, hoping, and loving.
As February 1984 began, he sat at his desk, staring at the letter he had received from the College; he couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret. Regret for all the missed opportunities and things he could have done if he wasn’t constantly battling his own body. But he also felt a sense of gratitude for the lessons he had learned from his failures. With all this, he finally opened the letter and read it aloud.

The actual letter said this.
Parent or guardian of Michael Banaster
“It is with a difficult decision that we regret to inform you that your son Michael Banaster has been academically dismissed from the State University of New York at SUNY New Paltz. Because of his three continuous semesters of academic probation and a GPA of below 1.27, we have no other choice but to refuse his admission into the spring 1984 semester, Effective December 24th. 1983 We are very sorry to come to this decision. Add hope and wish for the best of you for the future. Signed President of The State University of New York at New Paltz.”
The words he read differed from those on the page, but a fellow dyslexic reader will understand.
Micheal’s letter read like this:
“When you have failed, you must try something else,” the letter read. “Failure is more than success because when you’re allowed to learn, analyze, study, and dissect from failure, success is put in a bag and soon forgotten.” It continues, “Failure is forever, and you always learn from it; I thank my pregnant sister and thank my absent sister and brother, the house builder and my brother, the first-semester freshman, and all those who distracted me from the pain and humiliation of the failure so I may study and learn from this wonderful failure to be a better person from its message.”
He had read those words countless times, finding a new meaning in them each time. And now, as he prepared to leave the College and face the unknown, he held onto those words like a lifeline. I hope for a future filled with new beginnings and chances to try again. Academic failure is a good thing, probably the best gift from that Christmas Eve delivery.