Change American - I say no, not my America!

Folks, if I didn't live long enough to know the truth about my Country - the Greatest and Most Generous Country on the Face of this Planet, I would be inclined to fall for Joe Bidens self, serving Description of American. But I was lucky I was born during the Great Depression of l929, one of 11 children. My Father was a Democrat but he did not, at the time, conform to a party dictum, that allowed a parent to kill his unborn. I am grateful that the Democrats of today, where not the Democrats of yester -years. . I was proud of my father, who I dearly love, who did not over ten years of poverty, never gave up on his family, never deserted us, never blamed the President for the situation our nation we forced to bear--not because we couldn't 't blame the president, we were smart enough, to know no that no one man could cause a world calamity, neither Hoover nor Roosevelt. Instead, we learned to love our president for what he was trying to do for country. Yes folks, back than, even before Kennedy, we loved our country not for what it could do for us but for what it was - a beakon of hope throughout the word. I can still remember the day my mother had to go to a special hospital, at that time, miles away, and me and my bothers and sisters had to go to an Orphans home. I can remember my fathers, yes through rain sleet and snow, he would walk the 4 miles to the home, almost every Sunday--he never left us--he went through hell to get to visit with us, he scratched up five bags of goodies, each weekend, even though he was working for the WPA for 30 cents an hour--ye he did all this without food stamps. My father never deserted us not for one day, let alone after only two years. I can remember the day we were told that we were going home. It seems my Father when having to Traval many mile, without a car, arrived at the hospital, only to find my mother scrubing the hospitals floors. She was there for care - but they didn't care she was just a body, a potential scrub-women. And guess what, whee we all came home our mother was there, but she was to sick to provides us a mothers Care. It was a Black Women that finally arrived at our house, to care for us--she became, for to short of a time Our Mother. She was, to our family, one of the greatest gifts of our lives. And guess what--she a black women could find work in the mist of the depression--sounds strange in today's world. I remember in the year l941, when my mother died and once again our family was to be broken up. The youngest five to be sent to the Orphans Home, the oldest to live with our father. Yes, I can remember when the priest came to our house and told my father that I and my sister and two brothers could no longer attend school, unless my dad paid the school tuition--money he did not have to give because his check was being garnished to pay for the care of the children in the Orphans home. I can remember moving into a old store, which we were to call home, until our families final breakup. Yes, on the job my father had an accident, broke several ribs and could not work. As a result, at age thirteen and Fourteen, my Bother Ed and I the last to be living with our father had to go to work. For four months we worked at a bolling Alley from 5 to 12, jumping two Alleys each to earn 6 dollars a day, which we gave to our dad. Yes my brother and worked just to make a living. Funny thing though, we were too tired to go to school and as such, we were sent to a training school for boys, because we were playing hookey to support us. Yes, we were willing to work, we did work and for that we got punished. Sounds strange today when so many of our citizens are, in effect paid not to work. But I fooled them, I ran away the first day I got there--at the Training School. Ran away, again, the following weekend, and for awhile, I and my Father lived in that store front as, I guess Family. However, one night I awoke to find my father with a wet towel rapped around his face thinkine he was being gased--yes he finally broke, the system got him, he had a nervous breakdown. After that, my brother Ed who came home just before our fathers nervous breakdown, and just in time to be sent to various foster homes, I for six and Ed for 3 different homes. Just before I enlisted in the Air force, my father and I was working togather in a Rubber Mill. My American was the America of the Greatest Generation--funny we white people, I guess you can say, were not always born rich. But my country was a country that gave us a hand up not a hand out. In short we were given the opportunity to become citizens in the Best Country in the WORLD. And Guess what, now we have Two dam fools saying we got to Change It. Today, I Can only reply Nuts ro both of them!

The Messenger.

The Messenger.