You walked down the cemented streets of the city, while the enormous, dark buildings towering above you were blotting out the heavens.  The stench of car fumes ran up your nose and into your systems.  It was late evening now, but the sun still shone its rays out.  However, most of the skyscrapers blocked out the strongest rays, leaving the few weak strings of light out in the sky.  Graffiti lined the walls of these buildings, which depicted a variety of things.  Some depressing, others rapturous, few angry, many somber.  Autumn was commencing, leaving the bright days of summer a memory.  The wind had already begun to chill and sharpen.  Like a knife, it cut into the skins of those who weren’t constantly protecting themselves from it.  Trees that were permitted to grow out on the streets now shown a few green leaves, along with many yellow, orange, brown, and red that indicated that  it was time for the leaves to fall.  And fall they would, before the snows came.
It was in this season, time and place you came across a very singular man, who looked like any old beggar at first glance.  He contained the look of age and wisdom, the wrinkles crossing his face marked that.  However, many old men and women are known to have gone mad..  Doctors blame various ailments such as Huntington’s disease or Alzheimer's.  This particular senior citizen had pale skin and dark eyes.  His face was broad, and his hair was unkempt, as was his beard.  Both were speckled, which led you to question exactly how old you thought he was.  He was sitting there, with an ebony colored top hat sitting in front of him, face up, opening its mouth wide, and wondering when its next meal would be.  He was most clearly a beggar, as there were coins inside of the hat, and that led you to infer that he must also have been homeless.  Feeling pity for the man, you walked up to him.  He seemed to be moaning something unintelligible at first, but when you approached him, you realized it was more of a chant.  You could still not hear exactly what he was saying, but it didn’t seem important at the time.
You had recently graduated from your university with top grades, and were working full time to pay for your rent in your apartment, and pay off your student loans before they skyrocketed.  With this in mind, you calculated exactly how much you could spare for this ailing old man, and pulled out a twenty from your pocket.  You reached down and silently placed the twenty into the hat.  When your ear was closest to his mouth, you could make out the words he was uttering.
“...What’s the point? What’s the point? How nice, what’s the point? What’s the point?...”  he groaned continuously.
Seeing this as unimportant, you straightened out, and turned to walk towards your destination.  However, something pulled you back.  It wasn’t your good nature, or the pitiful condition of the poor old man, but it was curiosity.  It was curiosity in the strangest league of curiosity, seeming to you that this man had something important to say.  In the end, you made up your mind to hear him out.  Sitting next to him, you wanted to say something, but didn’t know how to start.  Thankfully, he did it for you.
“You wanna hear a story, kid?” he started.  “It’s about a man.  Well, every man starts out as a boy, so let’s start there.  There was a little boy who had just come outta his mother’s tummy, with me so far?”
You nodded.
“Well,” he continued, “this boy had dark hair and bright blue eyes.  He had pale skin and a intelligent face.  Man, since the moment he was born he had that face.  He drooled all over his mommy and flailed his limbs around, causing such a mess.  His relatives were so happy.  They laughed and danced and played...”  his voice trailed off for a moment.  “Then he grew up.”  he continued. “He went to preschool, and made some lifelong friends, Jessie and McCarthur.  Jessie was a beautiful young girl with fiery red hair and sharp green eyes.  McCarthur, on the other hand was a plain, sober boy with bright blonde hair and dark brown eyes.  Man, the three made the most troublesome trio.  The stuck together all through elementary school, but Jessie went away during middle school.  Between the two of them, the boy and McCarthur were just as boys were.  But McCarthur was a lady’s man.  In all three of the middle school years, he’d gotten about twenty dames.  The boy himself never fell in love with anybody when he was in middle school.  When they finally got to high school, Jessie had come back.  And man, she was the hottest woman around.  Boys flocked to her.  I mean, she was probably the hottest girl in school.  McCarthur picked her off first.  Man, he could get girls, but holding them was like holding a freshly caught fish.  They only lasted about a week together.  Then, Jessie started noticing the boy.  They fell in love, and they created the strongest bond ever.  The two of them went through high school together.  They lasted all the way to senior year, and their love was still strong.  McCarthur graduated with average B’s, The boy graduated with A’s, but the girl graduated with Honors and stuff.  The three of them went their separate ways, each going to a different college.  The boy got a Bachelor’s degree, then a Master’s  and was soon off to be a man.  He got himself a job and a house.  Two years later, he married Jessie.  McCarthur was invited to be his best man.  Man, McCarthur was already married, and it wasn’t going very well.  I mean, he had a well paying job and stuff, but he always had girl problems.  Anyhow, Jessie and the man later got three beautiful children.  Timmy, Nico, and Suzie.  Timmy, the oldest, went to school and made a bunch of friends. He went out on his first date in high school, while Nico was on his fifth in middle school.  Little Suzie was just getting into high school when Timmy graduated college with a Master’s.  He was always an A student.  Nico graduated high school with disappointing B’s, and little Suzie was an Honor’s student.  Timmy grew up to be a man, and had a job and a house, and was about to get married.  His poor mother, Jessie, got diagnosed with cancer.  Two years after he got married, she died.  Years passed.  Suzie was now pregnant with her third child.  The man looked at his relatives now, enjoying the moments he had left with them.  Do you want to know what happened then?”
Reluctantly, you nod.
“He DIED!”  The old man hollered.  “He effin’ laid in that hole and DIED!”
The sudden change of tone in the old man’s voice startled you.  You almost jumped up.  But something anchored you down.  Something about this man told you that he was making a very good point.  You just didn’t understand it then.
The old man continued.  “I mean, man - he lived all those years, fell in love, went to college, got a job, got a wife, and in the end, all he had to settle for all his hard work was a hold six feet underground - are you hearing me!”
You nodded vigorously.  The old man continued,  “A month later, no one remembered his name, no one uttered a word about him.  A month - no, two whole weeks later.  No one cared for his academic achievements, no one cared for his financial achievements, he just ended up not existing, do you feel me?  Man, he lived for seventy, eighty, maybe ninety years.  Then, he just laid in that hole and DIED!  Man, what’s the point?  Some people live for pleasure, but what is pleasure?  Is it dopamine? What is dopamine? It’s just some lame-o chemical that drives people crazy if they get too much of it.  Or too little.  Man, if the only reason you live is for more and more dopamine, then why do you live?  May as well lay down in the earth six feet under the ground and wait for someone to push dirt all over you.  You think you live to get smarter?  Well, how will that help anyone when no one remembers what the h--- your name ever was!  He just laid down and died man, he just laid down and died.”  The old man now had tears streaking down his cheeks.  He rubbed them away with his aged arms.
The wind shifted ever so slightly, and increased its knife like cold.  You cover your face with your hands to protect it from the frosty air.
The old man continued.  “And you may ask yourself: what about Archimedes?  What about Aristotle?  What about Charlemagne? What about Churchill?  What about Hitler?  What had all these people in common?  They are remembered.  What about Napoleon?  Einstein?  Shakespeare?  Twain?  Alexander the Great?  Julius Caesar?  da Vinci?  Augustus?  Gandi?  MLK?  Mansa Musa?  Socrates? What do they all have in common?  Why do their names resonate?  They did something.  They made something of this world.  This pathetic world that we live in, they impacted it.  Some are thousands of years old.  Only two months for them to forget the name of that man.  That man in the story.”
The old man suddenly stood up.  “Get up!”  said he.  You obeyed.
You were looking him in the eye now.  “Make me a promise.”  he said.  “My name is Thomas.  Make sure no one forgets it.  Please.  Will you?”
Well, would you?