A Hero Ain't Nothing but a Sandwich
It is Saturday morning and I decide to walk to the Oil City Public Library, I am walking across the bridge and
I stumble across several used syringes lying on the ground. I shake my head, grunt and kick them off the bridge into the mighty swift river. They float away, as do my thoughts and memories of my own past struggles. I arrive at the Oil City Library slightly out of breath. There are three young boys approximately 13 years of age on the computers. I mumble jokingly, but outloud, "Dreads of Society". The one boy looks at me and goes," What?" and I said," Oh, I said , Oh it's nice to see you boys smiling." They look at each other and giggle. They are texting each other with the computer probably saying," what's up with this old lady?". When they grow up they will not know how to communicate with out technology. verbal conversation will be a passing fancy. Albert Einstien said,"I fear the day when the technology overlaps with our humanity. The world will only have a generation of idiots. I think to myself, is this a true statment? I am looking at these boys and they look like little ragamuffins, street urchints. For real, they probably rolled out of bed, never combing there hair or brushing their teeth, put on what ever clothes was laying there from the day before, and headed out into the big cruel world. I fear for these youngsters. There parents are probably caught up in there instant gratification, addiction ,being pharmacutically inclined, unemployed, not by choice, but lathargically raiseing these children to the best of there ability at that given moment. At times I feel like I am still a child and get caught up in my own memories of being thirteen years old and riding my skateboard through my hometown, this happens more and more as I age, and it always ends up the same. Reality hits me in the face as I pass an old abandon store window and see a glimps of myself, an over weight middle aged women with tons of crows feet and an aching hip and a whole lot
I stumble across several used syringes lying on the ground. I shake my head, grunt and kick them off the bridge into the mighty swift river. They float away, as do my thoughts and memories of my own past struggles. I arrive at the Oil City Library slightly out of breath. There are three young boys approximately 13 years of age on the computers. I mumble jokingly, but outloud, "Dreads of Society". The one boy looks at me and goes," What?" and I said," Oh, I said , Oh it's nice to see you boys smiling." They look at each other and giggle. They are texting each other with the computer probably saying," what's up with this old lady?". When they grow up they will not know how to communicate with out technology. verbal conversation will be a passing fancy. Albert Einstien said,"I fear the day when the technology overlaps with our humanity. The world will only have a generation of idiots. I think to myself, is this a true statment? I am looking at these boys and they look like little ragamuffins, street urchints. For real, they probably rolled out of bed, never combing there hair or brushing their teeth, put on what ever clothes was laying there from the day before, and headed out into the big cruel world. I fear for these youngsters. There parents are probably caught up in there instant gratification, addiction ,being pharmacutically inclined, unemployed, not by choice, but lathargically raiseing these children to the best of there ability at that given moment. At times I feel like I am still a child and get caught up in my own memories of being thirteen years old and riding my skateboard through my hometown, this happens more and more as I age, and it always ends up the same. Reality hits me in the face as I pass an old abandon store window and see a glimps of myself, an over weight middle aged women with tons of crows feet and an aching hip and a whole lot