• There once was a man who would sit in the park and read the same page, in the same book, over and over again. Nobody knew his name. Nobody knew who he was. Nobody. He was only known as "The Forgotten Man". One day he died. He had no family to bury him. And because nobody knew who he was, everybody cared when he died. * The cops cared, but it was long enough to find out that he was “The Forgotten Man.” The funeral home that worked with the Government cared long enough to figure out what to put on the head stone. They wrote: The Forgotten Man. He was buried with the book he always held. It seemed fitting. But if anyone cared long enough to open the book that he dropped when he died and flip to the page he always stared at, they would know he wasn’t forgotten at all. Alas, now that is, too, forgotten. Buried with The Forgotten Man.