A special lette to Santa

Dear Mr. Santa Clause:
I have been told that you are not real, that you are a dream made up by rich people called Yankees.
I do not believe that, even though you have not come to visit us yet. Maybe, since we moved here, you just don't know where we live. I will tell you, then you will be able to come and visit us this Christmas.
My home is next to a very small town. We live in the largest house on the street, but Mom says it's too small. I like it, because I can look through the boards in the wall and see my friend Peter next door.
You have got to be very careful when you visit, because the roof is mostly tin and tarpaper, and we do not have a fire place for you either.
I have three sisters and five brothers, but there are 18 of us who live here, because my two uncles and their families live with us. They don't have a home because they don't have a job.
My dad is lucky, cause he works and brings home food and clothes. Just yesterday, we had a piece of chicken each. It was real good. We don't ever get chicken, excepting maybe in a long time.
My Mom works too, but not as long as Dad. I think she works for only eleventy hours.
Little sister Maria is sick. They took her to a place to get better and Mom cried. That was a long time ago.
You may not like it here right now because it is sort of cold. We have a heater, but Dad says it's broken on account of no gas. In the summer it's OK, excepting there's a lot of dumb old flies around.
I don't go to school anymore. I like school but Dad says it's a waste of time. He wants me to work at the dump. There are a whole lots of nice things at the dump, if you look awful hard. Just the other day I found a pair of shoes for my brother Michael.
If you do come this year, and if you are really magic like my friend Jeremy from school says, will you please bring some few things for me?
I have been very good all year, except for that one little bitty time when we stold some flowers from Mr. Webster's store to put on Granny Nanna's grave. We took them back though cause Dad was really really upset.
I would like some new shoes on account of mine are all weared out. It would be nice if Mom could get some more blankets or gas to fix the stove.
Maybe you could get my sister Angela and cousin Mark to come back home. They left last month for the war and Mom is terrible worried.
I know I'm being greedy, but If you could get work for Uncle Fish and Uncle Scooter, they could get their own home and I wouldn't have to sleep on the floor. (It gets cold when the dog can't sleep with me).
Most of all Mr. Santa, I would like to have lots and lots and lots of food. I see TV in the partment store window and it shows that everybody has lots of food, ceptin us. It don't seem right fair to me, I reckon we're what people call poor folks.
And above all else, please let my sister Maria come back home from that place called the cement-tary, I miss her so very very much.
I'm kind of being bad in sending you this letter, we can use the stamp money, but it is so very very important to me.
Thank you Mr. Santa, I honestly believe in you. I really really do!
Oh yes! My name is Gene and I live in a place called Ashland. It's in a bigger place called America.
P.S. I can't leave you any milk and cookies, we don't have any.
P.P.S. Please tell little baby Jesus I said happy birthday!