The Day I Wrote the Mayor

A seven-year-old on a mission

Photo Second Grade possession of author

I never expected to write the mayor at any point on that day. Honestly, I don’t think I had any plans. At seven, my schedule was wide open. So, I had time to write to the mayor about an incredible injustice I experienced later that day.

Basically, this older man stopped me on my bike while riding on the sidewalk and scolded me for not riding my bike on the street.
I mean, he yelled at me. He actually snarled. I had already struggled to identify with him due to our age differences, but it didn’t unfold as I had thought it would. But what does? And as far as I was concerned, I was guilty of nothing. I did not create this tragic injustice, but instinct kicked in, and I had no choice but to fight for my rights.

Frustrated, I reasoned with him that there were no bike lanes on Gainsborough Road, and it was a busy street; I did not feel safe so close to the cars. Plus, the adults had their vehicles, and I am sure he had one, too — just a hunch. Mr. Grumpy did not realize that the sidewalk was for kids! And that is why I wrote the mayor. It was unfair, and at that point in my life, I didn’t know that life wasn’t always fair.

So, I ripped out a page from my three-ring binder, wrote to the mayor, got an envelope and a stamp, grabbed a pen, and waited by the mailbox for the…