can it really be a baby ruth?

Well … if you watched Trump’s speech Tuesday evening, on full display was the colossal divide between both political parties. A division, that if WE THE PEOPLE are unable to come to terms with the purposely driven societal breakdown being instilled by both of them, things are going to end badly. What’s the biblical phrase: A house divided cannot stand. And what was truly sad during the speech, Democrats displayed a vitriolic hatred so ingrained for Trump, they would not honor any of those in attendance whom Trump recognized. That stunned me. Especially in light of the two young women murdered by illegal aliens and the boy surviving brain cancer: Astounding. Anyway, I’ve been a little under the weather this week. My brain, like it was as a child, just mush. So, in that vein, I thought I’d repost an oldie in the desire to bring the past back to the present:

In youth, I lived what most would call a sheltered life, the dependent of an Air Force officer. Dad, being a fighter-pilot, was often gone, leaving Mom, the authority figure. Her rule, more Theocracy (religious ideology) than Oligarchy (parental rule), being the house was mostly single-parent, versus two-parent. And Mom, more faith based than secular. So, when trouble presented, it wasn’t: Wait till your father gets home. Nope, it was “Jesus is going to get you!” Words indicating her power came from a higher power. Except, her enforcement of choice was a wooden spoon. The delivered impact, from above, even though her hand graced the handle. Thus, having been gotten got once, I never wanted to get got again.

So, to understand my upbringing, the military has the UCMJ (uniform code of military justice). The rules Dad lived and served under. Whereas Mom had the UCWS (uniform code of the wooden spoon). Now, on one hand, the UCMJ was clearly defined. All military personnel adhered, knowing and understanding the boundaries. Although, when Dad was home, those rules played a role. But the UCWS, and the enforcer herself was ambiguous, dependent on feelings, mood, busyness, or external factors. Anything could play into the intensity and severity of reaction to an action committed. Had her day been rough, other siblings caused trouble, or something else gone wrong, the gambit came into view when the spoon came into her grasp.  

And for overall effect, there was even a multi-purpose wall plaque of Jesus prominently displayed. He was ever vigilant. That if there was a hint of wrongdoing, and Mom wasn’t sure, she’d have one place their hand on Jesus, swearing innocence, while she stood right beside them, spoon in hand, ready to dispense punishment if she perceived different. For me, not wanting to get got, well, let’s just say Mom thought I was a good kid. Now, in the day-to-day, Mom didn’t bark orders, but did the mundane; keeping house, prepping meals, making her form of government appear altruistic. She did the work; I reaped the benefits. Except, I did have roles; attend school, stay clear of trouble, or don’t get got if getting into. Of her dictates: Kids were meant to be seen, not heard.

And for good behavior, she maintained a “junk drawer.” A smorgasbord of delectable items. That if one obeyed, or … didn’t get got, they were welcomed to a treat now and again. One day, Mom allowed me, and I settled on a candy bar – Baby Ruth. The first time I’d ever seen one. When I opened it, I questioned whether it was not what I thought, but something else. Mom assured me it wasn’t: Touch it, take a sniff, I promise, you’ll like it.

I did! So much, Baby Ruth became my all-time favorite candy bar, bar none. The first bite was a cornucopia of tongue slapping, brain draining love of proportions unfathomable. And all of it, compliments of Mom. But, as life goes, those days are past, long gone, and the reality; I had to learn, her way wasn’t a sustainable way in the form of the government providing. Even though, in my eyes, she was the government, doing the providing, albeit with Jesus protecting. Now, the dad part, which I never considered, was the money part, keeping the government part, which was Mom, afloat.

So, as time passes, my upbringing evokes a comical similarity of the Framers life under British rule by the king, including our present-day legislators and their desire to promise anything for a vote. But uncomically, for those who fought the American Revolution, their endgame was a desire in the Constitution’s design to correct the king’s rule from subjugation to independence. While today, legislators are striving to create a new design, transferring power from citizen independence to government dependence, knowing full well they’ll never deliver on the promises made. Their endgame, subjugated serfs. Although, the Framers, through wordplay, did forewarn, if one would only listen to intent:

The use of words is to express ideas. Perspicuity, therefore, requires not only that the ideas should be distinctly formed, but that they should be expressed by words distinctly and exclusively appropriate to them. But no language is so copious as to supply words and phrases for every complex idea, or so correct as not to include many equivocally denoting different ideas. Hence it must happen that however accurately objects may be discriminated in themselves, and however accurately the discrimination may be considered, the definition of them may be rendered inaccurate by the inaccuracy of the terms in which it is delivered. And this unavoidable inaccuracy must be greater or less, according to the complexity and novelty of the objects defined. When the Almighty himself condescends to address mankind in their own language, his meaning, luminous as it must be, is rendered dim and doubtful by the cloudy medium through which it is communicated. (Federalist 37)

In English, a single word can have a multiple of meanings. Each definition distinct in the context used, until. So, to understand the Constitution, its construction being an amalgamation of the past, including the Framers present, but they being our past, with both creating our posterity’s future. A time continuum, albeit different, yet the same, surrounding the Constitution, ageless, able to stand time, if everyone responsible understands its meaning and intent: WE THE PEOPLE.

But paradoxically, when pontifications by those desirous of controlling the nation, espouse an obfuscation of words intended to confuse the many into believing the few have the best interest of the many, be mindful of their intent. Or, in other words, the supposed perspicuous (clearly expressed or presented) nature of politics intended in America is like my favorite candy bar of youth. Only, once opened, one must ponder; even though it looks like a turd, is it also odoriferous. And if so, can it possibly be a Baby Ruth? I bet not!