Memoir of An African-American Man, Hope

Hope —An old man and children— Do you know why I sit here pondering? I am not sorry over unfortunate past days, and foster anger that may still be seated somewhere in my heart as a flame not ready to die out. Or recall sorrowful memories lost in the passing time, and to tear within a mood of sentiment. Simply, I am thinking while sitting in an old chair by a porch, enjoying gentle beams of sunlight, and watching children joyfully playing in our block, that there is nothing more I can do for those innocent kids in their future to come. I know for a fact that our lives are not of full of promises but we can provide something that is better than what I had to our children. We can give them a beautiful dream that never perishes, as long as we, the older generation, paint the sky with vivid colors that never fade away, as long as we, the generation who walk before, carry a torch of virtues, hope, and justice. Although I hear unwanted stories from the radio occasionally, I read unpleasant stories in the paper once in a while, I see detestable scenes in TV from time to time, and all these are reality, our hope is that we can raise our children in a home where honest wage earning parents display love, even though they live in a small cottage. We have a future if we provide quality education to our children, if only this present generation, which in every field and profession in the community, could become a role model to our children and provide the way to follow our footsteps with pride, it will bring all kinds of possibilities for future generations to come. It was always, and still is the time to protect the family all the more now, from whatever evil affects that may destroy the family, the family built on layer after layer of bricks of love, though it may be less than ten generations, a short lineage of genealogy for now, it is nourished with everlasting love so that our family tree may grow to reach the sky. And when our family trees in the block reach to heaven, they cast shadows to the ground in burning hot summer days and beckon wearied wayfarers with a refreshing gentle breeze. In the bitter cold winter days, become a shield from blizzards and let strayed wandering souls come and have a peaceful rest Now, you know, I suppose, what this old man in an old chair by a porch is thinking of… Oh, what a beautiful dream, it really is for all us dreamers.