He was strong then; standing tall and healthy and looked you straight in the eye. I was looking at a no nonsense man of courage; a proud man they called Uncle Sam.
As a young boy of about ten I first noticed him. He was pointing at me from a poster stapled to a telephone pole.
Uncle Sam, the representation of the USA ... America personified. A true patriot! Red, white and blue and proud of it!
I'm an old man now and I still remember him. Being old, I know what age can do. It's a gradual process. It's a deadly game that ends with 'gotcha!'
My hero, Uncle Sam, is older still and he is no longer the healthy courageous man he once was. His immune system is no longer what it was; diseased viruses with their deadly agendas have gradually overtaken his inner defenses. Slowly a multiple of cancerous tumors are growing, determined to devour their very host.
Once young and strong my Uncle Sam is becoming weaker by the day.
On occasions his judgment seems impaired and at times he seems to have lost his memory; forgotten who he was and even what he stood for.
The once great Uncle Sam, whom the entire world looked up to and respected, the benevolent Christian Capitalist that believed in liberty and justice, who would defy any and all who would challenge him. He stood for what was right and would bow to no one but God. He wasn't ashamed of the Bible on his desk, or the God he served.
He didn't let little punks push him around.
I caught a glimpse of him today and I could tell by his face he was sick ... Uncle Sam, my hero, was turning yellow.
Even more troubling, I wonder which of us is going to die first
