On an old, weather-worn bench sits a tired old man. He is wearing a faded army green jacket with a button down red shirt underneath. His khaki pants are hoisted beyond his waist, cradled just above his navel area by a plain brown belt. His tan shoes are weary, filled with holes and splattered with mud and grass stains. He looks out at the world through experienced eyes, eyes that have seen beautiful and majestic things only known to him. They light up whenever he speaks of the birth of a grandchild, or when freedom is mentioned in any context regardless of the situation.
He remembers fondly of the better days, when America was moral and stood for values. He detests the leaders of today, men and women who are seen from his perspective as weak and spineless fools who leading his beloved nation down a path of turmoil and ruin. He remembers the men of old who are only a step down from God in his eyes, and live warmly I his deepest thoughts. His memory has never once been an obstacle for him, as he remembers all of his enemies. Never once has he forgotten even the slightest of assaults against his beloved nation. Whether insult or injury, he remembers. He only seems to remember the outside things, and not the internal problems his country faces. He seems to only care about the larger picture, about the bigger things. He does not care about the little things, about poverty and violence in his own area.
One of the most crime ridden areas in the nation is in his backyard, and he looks past it every day to see the beautiful landscape beyond. He also wishes that the youth and minorities would stop their whining. If they do not like America, they could all leave and he would not care less. America is the greatest country on earth and nobody can tell him otherwise. He ignores the fact that America is not the only free country in the world, and that it is nowhere near the top in anything that would make it as great as he brags. He will ignore everything that is wrong with this nation until it’s too late. One day, it will be too late to fix all of these problems. The oppressed will rise up and make him and people like him wish they had listened sooner.
By then it will be too late of course. But, he is an old man. Why should he care? He’ll be dead soon anyway.
