In 1978, a young boy was sleepless on Christmas Eve, picked up a red felt-tip pen, and began writing what turned out to be a poem about the real reason for Christmas. The poem was tucked away inside a memory book for many years. When that poem resurfaced and was read by the now grown adult, the wheels started churning. Wheels that were heading in the direction of a dream. A dream that parents, godparents, aunts, uncles, babysitters, and even friends...