The Way it Used To Be

The old man sold cigarettes on the corner of Elm Street, today he was slightly whiskered, he wore a blue denim cap and jacket, and his piercing blue eyes caught my attention as I pulled my battered Lincoln to the curb.
In this part of town, intelligent conversation was all that some people had.
His name was Gary, I considered him a friend, even though he'd threatened me with physical violence a time or two when he felt I'd gone to far in defending modern ideas, or as he called it, "the secular progressive agenda."
I called him the "Russ Limbaugh of the Ghetto," except Gary was pretty sharp, intellectually stimulating,generally sober and usually pleasant.
I walked over and bought a pack of Camels, tax free.
The way of the future, I mused.
You could buy anything downtown.
It was a whole other world.
It was abandoned by society.
There were regular Police patrols, of course, but as long as the poor people kept a low profile they weren't hassled.
A pretty Indian girl walked by and smiled.
Like I said, you can buy anything downtown.
"so, Mike." Said Gary.
"Here we go." I thought, dryly.
"How's your man Obama today?"
I smiled, "You tell me, Gary."
Gary shoved his case of cigarettes to the other side of the cement table and spread out the paper.
"Do you know Obama's stand on the death penalty?"
I lit a cigarette, "Yes, Gary, he favors it in the most extreme cases. The most heinous crimes.
Basically he sides with the Court on the issue."
We bantered about a few more issues, Gary pointed out that he felt Obama's positions changed, I countered that that's the nature of the political beast, if one wants to be elected, one has to capture the center.
During our conversation bums,. drifters, hookers and street people came and went, doing their tobacco purchases with the wise man of Elm Street, he bartered and sold, made change, thanked the customers smoothly, not breaking the focus of his attention on me and our little debate.
A rag-tag group of welfare mothers and their kids, pensioners and assorted poor people were forming a line down the street, it was time for breakfast.
A schizophrenic passed by, muttering excitedly.
Gary leaned back and took a drag from his non-filtered smoke.
“Mike, I'm voting for McCain.
I am sick of the way this country is going.
You liberals are going to finish it off.
Obama wants to surrender to the Arabs.”
I pointed out that Obama's position was a phased withdrawal if it could be done while protecting our strategic position globally.
He grimaced, “Look how immoral this damn country has become.
When I was young, if your wife got outta line you could slap her around a little bit, and she'd get back into line. That was the way it was when we had the power, when America was a decent place.
Blacks, who we called niggers back then, knew their place, too.
And “Gays”, who we called Queers, kept their mouths shut.
If we found out someone was a Queer, we'd beat the Hell out of them.
If someone came out with some utopian idea about rich people paying taxes, we'd call them communists and that would be the end of them, Brother.
Everyone looked the same and acted the same, and women stayed in the kitchen, pregnant, and out of the man's world.
If your kids irritated you or sassed off, you could back hand them.
If you got some trollop pregnant, that was her problem, she was stuck with it, and everyone called her what she was, a Whore.
If the politicians wanted to kick some gook countries ass, you had to go, and die if the politicians needed it.
That's the way it was when America was decent.”
I smiled, “Well, Gary, I doubt many conservatives would disagree with you, that is the way it was.
But I don't think those days are coming back.
You see, now, women, blacks, conservatives and even communists can vote.
The times are changing again, Gary.
Hang on, it's going to be a wild, but I believe, a rewarding ride.
America, and the world will be better for it.”