Your witting….
Mr. Ruth,
First I would like to say that your bio seems to be quite impressive.  You seem to be a very well rounded writer.  I must ask though, where are you really from?  What did your grandparents teach you as a growing boy or tell you about while sitting on their front porch spending quality time on a breezy Sunday afternoon?  Did your grandmother have a special recipe that she made from scratch on any given day?  How about your parents, did they make you go to church on Sunday mornings to learn the word of the Lord?  What games did you play as a child with the other neighborhood kids?  Maybe it was stick ball with a fallen tree branch, a few pieces of cardboard as bases, and an old baseball that was your great grandfather’s.  Or maybe it was an incredible fort that you made with your own father…  Remember that time when the bases were loaded and as the night fell closer to dinner time, and you could never be late for that quality family time at the dinner table, but the pressure to get the best hit of your life was nerve racking…  So you try your hardest and give it your all!  Home run and you win that game that day.  All your friends are screaming and yelling and celebrating and the other team shakes your hands and says something along the line of, we will get you next week with a smile.  No poor sportsmanship even as kids huh???  As you turn around to run home for dinner, your Dad stands in your way with a look of pride.  He saw the whole thing, and then all the worry goes away about being late for dinner.  Your head held high because your father was so proud of you as you walk home together.  Along that walk you pass by the remains of an old building.  It’s always been there.  That’s where you heard one of the stories from your childhood that stays with you forever.  It was an old store from the 1860’s.  This was the neighborhood store that your great grandparents bought some food supplies.  It was owned by the town’s Preacher and his wife, which was passed down to them and served people for generations.  It was destroyed in the Civil War.  So was the town, but never forgotten.  This is only one piece of history that you won’t find in a school’s text books, but it will never leave the minds of the people that knew about it.  The kids didn’t have to study about that to pass a test.  They lived it or the generations before them did.  After dinner, your mother cleaned the table and all of you sat in the living room until bed time spending quality time.  As years go by and parts of our great county form their own way of life and stories go through grape vines and change, do you think this story would ever loose it’s meaning or even change?  Nah….it didn’t and it won’t.  If you were on the other team that day playing stick ball and lost, would you shake hands?  I don’t think so, in fact I know you wouldn’t.  Life and ratings or followers as they apply to your world now are far too important then family values, porch sitting, or church on Sunday.  So you see Mr. Ruth, the South will always live a life of learning, honor, and truth.  No matter who or what tries to put their history in a grapevine, it will always unravel.
By the way, I am from Ohio, but live in The South now.  Good People, ones who will never be part of your negative world.
Deanna Odisho