Alex G

Jacob.

Look at me now, an old man who has helped his country. And now people think I am the meanest man in Cleveland! They're not wrong. It all started when I was eight, when the Nazi's came, their boots making those noises on the ground when they pointed their guns and took my family. They took me to that horrible camp and treated me like dirt. I heard them talking, they said "Kill him tomorrow morning." My heart was racing when a group of thirty year old men said "Hey kid, we're going to America, come with us." I did, it was a horrible trip, we stowed away on a ship with so little water that my tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth, I was so relieved to be safe in America, and ate a huge feast. I was so grateful to be safe that I joined the army at age 20. It was 1963, while I was with a squad of veterans in the war of Vietnam when we heard gunfire, we had been spotted. As I was firing I felt pain in my stomach and was rushed to a hospital soon afterwards. I now knew why, a Vietnamese soldier shot me! I was in the military for seventeen years and I actually thought I would get some respect from foreigners, but they were still attacking me. Now I had had enough, foreigners couldn't be trusted in this country. I would take a beer bottle and throw it at a foreigners head when I was having a bad day, they deserved it. But when I was having a good day I would yell at the kids and they would run away, kids think I ate a kid and it tasted bad. So I hurt kids for making me vomit. I remember farming after I retired from the military, my gunshot wound made sure I quit, but I did enjoy to farm. There was no garden And I had an apartment so I couldn't farm, but then this garden on Gibb Street opened up, I would have gone but it was overrun with foreigners. I can't stand the place, soon they'll unite and take over the country. I'm shivering as I tell this because it's early december and I need to get potatoes to make latkes, not for anyone special. My wife passed away ten years ago from a heart attack and no one will come near me because of my personality. As I went to the grocery store you know what I saw, a sign that says closed for renovations. That was the only shop near me, I remembered that the next grocery store was across town and the last time I was there they had terrible service. But the garden store next to it was open, I sighed. I was going to have to plant potatoes in that miserable joint called the Gibb Street Garden. I bought some gardening tools, because mine got rusty, then I went over there and everyone started giving me dirty looks while I garden. I still can't stand the place, I would have to make everyone miserable before they could do something to me. A couple weeks later my potatoes needed one day more until ready to harvest. Some black guy with a pitchfork was guarding tomatoes, a cat was digging at my potatoes. I yelled and threw a pebble at it. The guy with the pitchfork's face turned bright red and he ran at me and pinned me with the pitchfork. He told me to apologize, I showed him my muscles from the army, he yelled "You old jerk!" And charged. Right before he hit me I heard a voice saying "Let him go." He did and I couldn't believe it, It was Sam! When I moved from Poland to America I had no home, his mother took me in. I remember little Sam, four years younger than me sucking on a coffee cup. I was like a big brother to him. We had a talk, Sam seemed the complete opposite from my relationship with foreigners. He told me what they have done, how much I was a foreigner as much as they all were. How all of these people weren't the ones who hurt you, barely related at all, only from the same country. I knew he was right, I actually snuck into the radio station and told all of Cleveland that I was sorry. I guess the people forgave me. After I harvested my potatoes, I invited every single person from the garden to my house for the first night of Hannukah and Latkes. We celebrated, I told them how everyone of them has transformed Cleveland as much as me. They said they already knew.

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