A small Nation that sets on the western coast of Africa. It’s capital was a thriving, bustling city of energy and diversity struggling toward modernity. There were parts of Monrovia that were comprised of tin shacks, along side concrete buildings. My concrete school sat in a neighborhood, where I would cross the dirt road after school and buy cheese and ground peanuts in a small tin shack of a store. As I grew older, I spent some precious evenings setting around an open fire, drinking beer in the middle of a village comprised of mud huts. Poor, economically depressed, not modern, underdeveloped, use what ever words you want, I will tell you that the people of Liberia gave me something that I cherish. That no matter what your environment is, you can still be a decent human being. You can still have dreams, you can still work toward something different, something better. Of all my time in Liberia, this is what I remember most. For my President to speak as he has, shows a fundamental lack of understanding and respect, and I am deeply offended, and embarrassed. Liberia was, and is, many things but it was never a sh*thole, and for a man that tosses the f-bomb more than most, I actually find it hard to use the presidents words in a sentence.