The America I remember is no more; an America of parades to honor our military, not gay rights parades; an America of fireworks on the Fourth of July, not flesh-ripping explosions at almost any time. My nation has been destroyed by a consortium of deviates, Democrats, Socialists, Marxists, spineless Republicans, socialist academics, low-life entertainers, ad nauseam.
I remember an America where teachers were obeyed, respected, and even feared. We knew that if we received a paddling at school, we would get one at home. That was before the graduates of Columbia took control of our educational system. My three most respected and loved teachers were the ones who were the most demanding.
I remember when the Bible was read and prayers said each morning in the public schools. Today, the schools are nut factories often filled with uneducated, unprincipled, and uncaring teachers and rebellious, resentful, and raucous students. Some kids go on to college but only 55% receive a degree within six years and often that degree is useless. One reason for the 45% dropout rate is that most college freshmen read on a seventh grade level!
I remember an America when every high school graduate had basic knowledge about America, the world, and their obligations to work hard to make a good life. I remember when every student in elementary school learned basic math and historical events; about dangling participles and split infinitives; facts about government; memorized the Preamble to the Constitution, the Gettysburg Address, the Bill of Rights, the Wreck of the Hesperus, Inchcape Rock; and was familiar with Poe, Hawthorne, Coolidge, Irving, etc. And a weekly book report, written and read, was the norm.
I remember an America when men stood when a woman entered the room; when you tipped your hat to a lady; when you removed your hat when entering a building and would not even think of eating while wearing a hat; and when a gentleman always asked a lady, “Do you mind if I smoke?” Moreover, if a crude man carelessly cursed in a woman’s presence, he would often blush and ask to be forgiven. How quaint. And, even in West Virginia, smoking and cursing women were as scarce as white dinosaurs in Manhattan.
I remember an America when we walked quietly and respectfully by a home with a gold star hanging in the window. We knew that some father, brother, or son had been slaughtered on faraway battlefields with strange names such as Iwo Jima, Corregidor, Coral Sea, Battle of the Bulge, Anzio, Heartbreak Ridge, Inchon, Pusan, and many others.
I remember an America when we never locked our doors day or night and the iceman had access to our back porch icebox for ice deliveries.
I remember an America when neighbors bossed anyone’s kid around and even provided a swat on the rear when needed. This was before the fanatics at Child Protection Agency, trying to do good, took control and destroyed a vast number of families with the help of our culture.
I remember an America when families could watch any television show together and never be embarrassed. The most risqué show was when Milton Berle, dressed as a woman, hit other stars with his purse.
I remember an America when men–even myself–would shake hands on a $50,000 business deal and both kept their word–without a written contract.
I remember when there were boys and girls, men and women and if anyone had suggested the possibility of same-sex “marriage,” he would have been certified insane.
I remember an America when if a girl got pregnant (a very seldom occurrence) she was a shame to her family (but was not rejected) and visited grandma for a few months. The baby was often reared as a sibling or cousin or was adopted by a deserving family.
I remember an America when every life was sacred and it was a major shame, scandal, and sin if a woman had her own child butchered within her womb. And a crime.
I remember an America when a politician (who disgraced himself, his family, and his party) quickly apologized, resigned, and took the next plane or train to his backwater town to live in obscurity until his death.
I remember an America when you could discuss serious issues with people who believed the opposite yet still remain friends.
I remember an America when we loved our dogs, always stray mongrels; but when they got old or sick, we shot them and lamented it for a few days but realized that they were just animals.
I remember an America when parents were loved, respected, if not feared and the thought of talking back was never a possibility. I remember when your family name was almost sacred and the thought of bringing disgrace to it was anathema.
No, my America was not perfect but it was pleasant, peaceful, and proper and my grandchildren and great-grandchildren will only see some glimpse of it from their own family but not from the nation as a whole. So, I believe we should retain as much of old America as possible and we can do that without harming or offending other cultures or races.
However, old America is being challenged, changed, even crushed by Islamic and Hispanic immigration, legal and illegal. It’s time to demand that every immigrant swear an oath of allegiance to America then sing “America, the Beautiful” while they whistle “It’s a Grand Old Flag”—at the same time—with a mouthful of saltine crackers! All failures should be dropped off at the Mexican or Arabian Desert!
Well, maybe not that extreme but everyone should get the message: If you live in America, be an American (why else did you come here), or go back where you came from!
Boys’ new book, Muslim Invasion: The Fuse in Burning! was published this week by BarbWire Books.
The opinions expressed by columnists are their own and do not necessarily represent the views of Barb Wire.