by The Real American

Created on: March 08, 2010   Last Updated: March 12, 2010

Having been born in 1965, I was a product of the middle 1970’s in my own personal worldview. It was, quite honestly, an excellent time to grow up! Society was relatively or reasonably free to do whatever they wanted, the national standard of living was still quite high, and America was undoubtedly the greatest nation on Earth.

I can truthfully say that, because it was proclaimed in every school textbook that I ever read! Nor, did I ever hear otherwise from our leaders, on the news, or around any of the adults.

Sure, I often heard frequent or even heated discussions… because my father was highly intelligent, politically opinionated, and [like so many others, sometimes, called him] “a devil’s advocate.” He loved to start up political discussions, and would often take the opposite side of his true positions, just to get it going.

I can’t rightly say that, at that early age, I quite understood why he so [absolutely] loved to do that? However, today, I now understand his reasonings quite well; and can more fully appreciate, his own version of black-hearted political humor!

However, there are three reasons – for which – I have never personally practiced that particular brand of humor. First, I am a deep conceptual and philosophical thinker that strongly believes in inherent right and wrong.

Second, when people take you seriously, they are bound to form certain personal opinions toward you - based upon those same given statements. And third, the joke isn’t the least bit funny, unless they fall for it [as my father would say] “hook, line, and sinker!” No sir, I am, “far too straight laced for that!”

I was always a very observant individual. When I was younger, my father would call me “Curious George” and run his hand through the hair on my head. I loved to read, and I did so voraciously. My teacher called my parents into kindergarten [in Florida], because I already knew how to read.

Not, out of appreciation or gratitude, mind you, but because they might have damaged my desire to learn! Apparently, learning to read at two or three is a bad thing. Who knew? I’m certain that my parents didn’t!

Nor, did I live in a home where numerous experiences or questions were taboo. I could go to any church, as long as I went… I could read almost anything, as long as I read… and I could go anywhere, as long as I eventually came home for dinner!

You see, my parents were

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