Barefoot Memories of a Hillbilly - The Devil and Your Miranda Rights (Free Access - Not Paywalled)

The Devil and Your Miranda Rights

Idle hands are the work of the devil, so Mom says. Mom does not like the devil hanging around, or snakes. So when Mom saw idle hands she did her best to give them something to do to fend off the devil. Surely as Mom spotted any idling going on, she could come up with at least a dozen or so jobs to drive the idle right outta you. Usually the jobs found for us were less fun than those we coulda found for ourselves.

Mom was quite gifted in the skill for finding jobs that were guaranteed to make you remember and repent from past transgressions. She could look through your mind and spot a guilty conscience from a mile off. Nothing could clean the sin outta you like hard labor and sweat between your shoulder blades. And not just your past errors, she could make you rethink your thoughts on the evils you contemplated for the future.

She was on first name basis with the school principal; after giving him that deep all seeing look, she’d begin her greeting by saying "look here" and after soaking in a bit of her concerns, he’d address her grievances by saying, "yes mam." She held us to a high standard, sometimes seemingly an impossible to achieve standard, but was the first to admit her kids were capable of getting into anything. She looked you straight in the eye and like a Geiger counter of the soul, could determine your guilt, or lack there of. If you said, ‘Mom, I didn't do it’ and stood under and passed the test where she bore into your eyes with hers, she'd fearlessly take on a chain gang to defend your innocence. You could see her 4'11" frame seem to grow to gigantic status as she took on man or beast to champion our case, and truthfully, she never loss. She was quite articulate, bold, never showed weakness. Just as she was the first to hold you accountable if you were guilty, if you were wrongly accused there was no greater defense lawyer than Mom.

Just as Mom could defend you, she could just as easily try you, find you guilty and render a punishment guaranteed to make you rue your criminal errors. You could be sentenced to dishes or laundry. Tasks like waltzing thru the garden with a hoe, chopping wood, picking up rocks from a hillside, or stacking wood. Whatever the case, our in-house warden supervised our labors and no one got any get out of jail free cards. No early parole under Mom, not even for good behavior. There was nothing more impressive than this tiny battle axe of a woman standing her ground, assuming "that look" and clearing her throat to begin reading you your rights...

You have the right to remain silent (always a good choice), if you give up that right what you say can and will be used against you (over and over). You have the right to an attorney (not in this lifetime)... It's okay Mom, I plead guilty. Reach me my hoe.

I wear shoes now, but sometimes I have barefoot memories.