I got soul but I'm not a soldier...

I've been a fucking slave for this blog over the past few months. I really love this whole blogging thing though... I think. Anyhow, we are required to write just three blogs a week. Two hundred and fifty words. When I first started this blog thing, I was cruising the other blogs from ENC 1102 religiously. I soon found out that no one else really gave a shit about blogging. I tried to find some blogs to comment on, but no one was writing! How strange, since this is possibly the easiest thing to knock out in a half-hour time frame. It's all about time management.

Truth be told, I put way too much effort into mine. I'm talking (wink-wink) about extra credit here. You know, since I actually did the assignments when they were due. Additionally, I normally wrote 500-600 words a post. I don't really know what was up with that. Like I said, I really went a bit over the top. So now I find it comical to read this anomynous classmate's blog to see her frantic postings like this gem here. With this blog she writes a blistering 153 word diatribe about her plane ride to Turkey Day in Pittsburgh. I really hope she doesn't think that our professor actually meant by 'make up' that you could just type a half-assed account of a few days while you caught up to the magic number.

The next post by Classmate X is most assuredly about the next thing she runs into: her 90 year-old great grandmother. I can almost envision her rushing to a quiet room to type:

"She is a firm believer in the lord above, and believes that i part of the reason why she stays so yound. I was the only great grandchild for 13 years and now there 8 more. She is an ispiration to me. Im so happy i have a chance to spend some tiem with her. "

Its so cute how she mispells half of her descriptive words calling her "one of my heros". I suppose she wanders into her next subject, that of grandchildren, when she arrives in Pittsburgh and sees the burgeoning ranks swelling with new members. The final post refers to the snowwy day (sic) and the "icycles" that formed after Thanksgiving.

I really don't want to sound like a big a-hole, but that is what I am. What is so hard about using the spell check option? It seems as if the class has been given a free pass. In fact, Professor Tivnan just wrote today: "You should have a total of 36 blogs by that date (December 12)." Lets hope she makes people write about the same topics that were posted for each week and not just some piss-poor stream of consciousness footnote of a day in the life of _____. I guess all of us can really look forward to the next posts, most likely titled "Plane Ride Home: Soooo Long!" and the subsequently and aptly titled "So Slepy(sic) Now, Time for Bed". I just love the elevated social discussion these blogs provided, don't ya'll?

Constitutional Interpretation

A friend of mine is a lawyer for the Securities Exchange Commission in Washington. He once told me that he found it beautiful that the Constitution could be interpreted in so many different ways. He seemed to find comfort in that. I could say my father finds comfort in what he believes, which is the direct opposite. He is a originalist and clings to exactly what was penned on those pages so many years ago. As I recently wrote, Thomas Jefferson once entertained the possibility of what he called a 'sovereign generation'. By that term, he meant that each generation changed in scope, in beliefs, and in values. Subsequently, new laws should be drafted to accommodate the change.

Originalists cloak their personal beliefs with those of our forefathers. They seem to forget the references in those prized documents that acknowledge and legalize slavery and shun women's rights. I find no problem with what they fight for. I believe slavery is wrong. I am against abortion (surprised?). I believe that people should be able to protect their families. However, I do not pretend that our founding fathers meant for us to take their words to further our own unique generational problems. They had no looking glass, no master plan and certainly no pretenses of what the future of our country would hold. Carrying no misgivings, they knew that what rights they granted in the Constitution and even in the amendments would not cover the vast scope of problems brought forth by the citizenry. They most certainly laid a firm foundation, and America built off that model. The new model was cast from a democratic mold and smashed the old, which was one grounded in the aristocracy and feudal system that reigned supreme in Europe since the Middle Ages.

Jefferson's theory is essentially what transpires these days, albeit in a much disguised version. The law is not rewritten; indeed to do so would ensnare our legal system in a state of constant gridlock. Instead, laws are proposed and reinterpreted over the course of many years and spanning generations. Take the case of Brown vs. Board of Education, and what eventually gave black Americans equal ground when it came to education. That was the result of a long fight that started with the Emancipation Proclamation and ended with black Americans finally having recognition in one more arena of modern American life. Considering Jefferson's storied history with Sally Hemings and his own personal utopian tendencies he carried in that classical cranium of his, I imagine that he would have been pleased with the modern result.

His Excellency: Modern Man

When I was I kid, I used to watch Jeopardy at night with my mother. I was in first grade and had yet to acquire the gross intelligence that now fuels this blog (haha). For most answers, I distinctly remember stating "Who is George Washington?". You can imagine my glee when I finally nailed the provided answer. It could have been any of a million facts...

The father of his country, he never actually felled a cherry tree.

An accomplished surveyor with crooked teeth, this founding father's image is etched into Mount Rushmore.

A member of Virginia's planter class, he became the first and only General of the continental Army in 1776.

Currently, I am reading Joseph J. Ellis' His Excellency: George Washington, the latest in his Revolutionary generation book collection. I finished Founding Brothers a few years back, and could hardly put it down. I find his writing fascinating. In writing a book, Ellis pours through mounds of documents, letters, and endless titles for one singular purpose: to give an almost three dimensional description of the subject at hand. One would think that most of what he is telling his audience is common knowledge, yet he is able to tie together many different sources and make succinct observations about whomever he is writing about. That is why I enjoy the books so much. Of course, his books are more of a literature review and the reader is expected to trust his observations. These observations come from Ellis and his pouring over thousands of hand-written letters. Knowing this fact, I trust he will draw the correct conclusion of the historical figure.

One of my favorite parts of His Excellency deals with Washington's youthful development. While the focus on his early days falls short in comparison with the depth and scope that the rest of book covers, it is not for lack of effort on the author's part but can be more attributed to the fact that so little is know about the young Washington. However, the book is able to reveal a few important character traits that will mold his life. Ellis is able to glimpse through Washington's early decisions, an ambitious agenda that the young man sets for himself. His decision to forgo a formal education is bolstered by his maturation as a surveyor for the wild country of the Virginia frontier. At the age of 20, he assumes a military post vacated by his deceased older brother and mentor with an eloquent petition to Virginia governor Robert Dinwiddie. Over the course of the next five years he hones his military skills and begins to strengthen his personal perspective.

In His Excellency, Ellis paints a vivid picture of a young man, intent on establishing his roots in Virginia aristocracy. However, what I found astounding was the fact that age of 17, Washington was able to purchase his piece of land, a mere 1,459 acres, on a choice plot in the Shenandoah Valley. It would be his first of many acreage acquisitions for the man who would be the father of our country. It struck me that a mere 250 years ago, what we know today as America was but a wilderness, and given a modest beginning, men such as Washington were able to forge their own path. While George started out with slightly more than most, he was no privileged son. He merely took his lot and made the most of it.

Sometimes, when driving around the outskirts of a modern southern city I end up in the suburbs. The suburban area I speak of is not the one on the edge of the metropolitan area. This suburb is normally strung out ten miles or more from the distal edge of the city. In Tampa, that region is Land O' Lakes. Positioned just outside Hillsborough county proper, the flat country is home dozens of developments. Take a noun normally associated with something natural or and a terrain feature and you have another name for your new community starting in the low $190s (!). Fawn Ridge, Plantation Palms, Mango Hills, and Heritage Plains are all possible names for a quiet domestic life. I can't imagine ever living in a satellite community such as these. For reasons unmentionable here, I just can't stand them.

I have a strange discomfort in comparing Washington's American dream to the modern version. The one where every man can afford a manicured lawn complete with a two car garage and his collection of tools strapped to the walls. In Washington's day, he was able to pursue his vision of the dream. Owning mass amounts of land and cultivating a prosperous life for himself, only to find that he was bound, tooth and nail to the mercantile British system. Then he basically got really pissed off when he discovered the truth, and set out to change it. Today's man also finds himself working to the bone to capture his dream on the outskirts of society, only to wake up one day surrounded by strip malls and gas stations. He wonders what he can do about it. Time is running out for this guy, and hopefully he will find the solution to being boxed in.