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Can you feel it? Off in the distance, the faint rumble of something happening makes the nation sit up in bed and wipe the four-year sleep from its collective eyes. Still groggy from the slumber, it knows it feels a shudder, but is unsure of its intention. The earth shakes with a rhythmic cadence, as if thousands of folks far, far away have awakened, and are moving about. They move with baby steps, toddlers crawling inexorably towards the dining room table, where they reach for a chair and steady themselves upright, preparing for the long walk ahead. With purpose, they move forward, as they walk now without help. Once wrapped in swaddling clothes, they forsake them in favor of the colors of America, and the nation hears their footsteps. While some pull up the covers to ward off a draft, others open the windows and listen.
Can you hear it? The faint sounds off in the distance, waiting for the Doppler effect to take hold as the newly emboldened move slowly but surely forward. Along the way, they utter their first words, despite warnings to the contrary. “Please be quiet”, Daddy George says, “America is sleeping.” They pay no mind to their unwelcome step-dad, though, and with determination tempered by fear the words come: “No more.” With strength in numbers buffeting their courage, the words come again, louder now. “No more.” Then again, a mantra for the times – “No more.” “No more.” “No more.” Like the whistle of a bygone steam train, the words come again and again and again. Windows open throughout the country, the words crawling through bedroom screens like no-see-ums to reading lights. “No more.” They bounce off satellites to visit radio programs, and they sit in neat little rows on the pages of America’s newspapers. The kids, it seems, are growing up, and Daddy George has just realized they’re way too old to be spanked.
Can you see it? The kids all have cell phones now, and they talk. With a push of a speed dial button, the girls and boys come by the hundreds of thousands to tell Daddy and his friends that they can look, but not touch, for the Rules For Women as modified in 1973 will forever stand. With a click of a mouse, they converse by the millions and expose Daddy for what he is – the ultimate man of Oz on the (chicken) Yellow Brick Road, a man with no heart, no courage, and no brain. You broke it, Daddy Dearest - you bought it.
Can you sense it? It is the feeling of despair at the Daddy house. The hired assassins have an almost empty quiver, and the arrows seem to be missing their mark with alarming regularity. Daddy and The Gang That Couldn’t Talk Straight can’t seem to make anything work, and while the kids are all honors students Daddy is failing Phonics. The principal wanted to talk to Daddy alone, but Daddy convinced her to let his best friend come alone and help him with some of the phrases he has trouble with, like “I lied”, “I cheated”, or “The blood is on my hands.”
I feel it now, more than ever. I hear it now, crisp and strong, and I see it as clearly as can be. It is coming, and we are its stewards. Give it room to grow, nourish it with truth, and be there when it asks for your help. As you feel the rumble underfoot and see the kids grasp the long-hidden truth, open your windows and let the wind carry forth the message for our times.
No more.
No more.
No more.
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