Epistle to Barack Obama

Epistle to Barrack Obama

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

Unceremoniously have I lived and without ceremony will I pass from this life. However, President Obama I wanted to thank you for dutifully maintaining the night watch and to the best of you abilities protecting me and mine from chaos and intervention.

On your watch we have found the world is a complicated and impersonal place. How we hoped for change and transparency in the beginning.

Mostly now I huddle in my Home. Two or three times a quarter one of my neighbors will stop by with news of imminent destruction such as Ebola, terrorism or now deflation. My way of life destroyed by sinking prices for coal and copper. Often I don't answer my neighbors knock preferring to stay holed up in my lair lulled by professional sports on the Cable.

It's certainly getting warmer. But Winters are unusually cold of Late though nothing like when I walked to school sub zero as a schoolboy.

Japanese schoolgirls intrude on the internet and carry viruses which give hackers access to my abode and personal thoughts.  Usually I don't follow them on you tube. I do enjoy a cover by German Mona Lisa twins backed up with electric guitar and a girlish lisp at the end of a complicated English word pattern on Beatles songs.

Thank you for lowering gas prices. You have shown those Texans a thing or two. Mornings I often enjoy a short drive listening to the radio if I can find a station not roasting your performance deciphering the world's hostility against us.

I have come to grips with my situation and I thank you for maintaining peace and stability for me to grow in. Stuck in the spacious present I avoid the future and the past. Here I sit, forgotten man, rusting American patriot.

What's next for you after your watch is over. If I may be so bold; avoid the Lecture circuit. It's so typical. Maybe work with your wife, become reacquainted perhaps both swinging a hammer on habitat for Humanity projects somewhere warm volunteering while you collect your Federal pension.

The quiet life can be dignified for one who was once at the center of things. New Mexico is nice.

Greetings from a silenced suburban cowboy, once an honorary native American and ex-hippy sans funds to enjoy the lifestyle. I appreciate you efforts.