Eternal pessimism is an odd thing. A whole set of people so distrusting of the future, of people, of any thought of hope. America has become such a distraught, torn, tortured place in the past thirty years that very few, even across the world, have been able to break the mold of the American mindset. Scientists have no name for this mindset epidemic but many people have decided that some physical structure in the brain was altered thirty years ago by a traumatic event, eventually leading to a cellular hodgepodge creating the pessimist population that inhabits the once territory of Canada, Mexico, U.S.A., And Japan. Oh I almost forgot, my name is Shirley, Shirley Reacher Lee Jones. Yes, four names is a bit peculiar, especially in this day and age as most Americans area dentifrice by a first name, followed by a four digit number, and responded to nicknames shared only by their friends and family. Now, before I begin the rest of this account I must tell you, the following material will not be lighthearted and witty, nor will it be horrifying or dream crushing. The following true story is of an old colleague of mine who perished in a formidable manner, with no pessimist bone in his body. He is one of the rare persons to be without a dreary thought ever, and helped me found this order to support those of us who were born with the highly despised gift of optimism. Now,clef me share you my personal record of the events of the life of Sir Aaron Grenal Cross Jr. The finest optimist, and best friend, any self respecting man could ask for.