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When I was a lad growing up in the small East Texas rural and farming community of Chinquapin, I once got the scare of a lifetime. The related event: the Presidential Election Cycle of 1952, when General Dwight D. Eisenhower, Republican and former Supreme Commander of the Allied Expeditionary Force in Europe during World War II, squared off against Democrat rival, Governor Adlai E. Stevenson of Illinois.

My dad, a lifelong Democrat, came home one summer afternoon and for some peculiar reason presented me with a written version of a short poem titled “Beans.” After reading a few lines, the chilling message, which issued a stark warning, landed a punch to my gut. In short, it said if Eisenhower won the election, his policies and those of his Republican cohorts would devastate the American economy. The nation would then be thrust headlong into another prolonged depression that would reduce its citizens to such an extreme poverty level, where few could afford anything to eat, except BEANS!

I hear you sarcastically remark, “You can’t be serious! I can’t believe you fell for that.
But one must take into account that at that moment, I was a shy and impressionable kid — a product of country upbringing — and when talking about “country,” I’m referring to an agrarian lifestyle completely devoid of modern household conveniences and mechanical farm equipment. My dad walked behind a mule, ploughing from sunup to sundown in the red dirt of San Augustine County trying to raise enough to feed his family of three and get us through another day, another week, another month, and another year.

Hard times, you bet! Even so, we always had plenty to eat, including cornbread, scratch biscuits, homemade butter, greens, and various forms of meat consisting of beef, pork, chicken, quail, squirrel, or whatever was available. And of course, BEANS always appeared on the menu at the McKinley household.

There was one major problem, however. I literally and figuratively hated beans. To me, all beans were the same. It didn’t matter whether green beans, pinto beans, lima beans, sliced, diced, chopped, minced, nor how cooked or how many spices added, none were deemed fit for human consumption and should be properly discarded into the pet food bowl or better yet, the hog trough.

Therefore, the foreign concept of that poem suggesting eating nothing but beans wreaked immediate havoc on my psyche. And as the days and months dragged on until Election Day, November 04, I thought that perhaps, at the tender age of nine years old, my hair would either turn prematurely white or completely fall out.

I held my feelings close to the vest, though, and kept wishing, hoping, and praying that the Democrat, Adlai Stevenson, would pull off a major upset, but when he suffered a crushing defeat of 442 to 89 in the Electoral College, I felt doomed! The gravity of the situation loomed large. Thus, one early morning, I summoned enough courage to expose my nightmare.
“Since our worst fears have come to pass and that old Republican Eisenhower, is gonna be president,” I asked my dad, “when will we start eating nothing but beans?” A strange look appeared on his face, and he inquired, “What in the hell are you talking about, Son?”

With a knot in my stomach comparable to what I expect a dog feels like when he’s trying to pass a peach seed, I began to explain. And when Dad understood, he laughed aloud and responded. “Oh, don’t pay any mind to that old poem, boy. We aren’t gonna starve, and we will certainly have more to eat besides beans! Don’t concern yourself about it.”
“Now, you tell me!” I scoffed. “You coulda saved me a lot of worrying if only you’d mentioned that much earlier.”

Dad soon tired of my insolence and quickly ended the conversation. He exited the room, leaving me to ponder further about the true meaning of politics, and how I was personally deceived by that stupid rhyme and its unknown author, no doubt a Democrat operative intent on delivering party propaganda to the gullible — me! In retrospect, FAKE NEWS had claimed another innocent victim.

That was to be my first foray into the never-ending battle between Republicans and Democrats. I must also admit that in my misspent youth, I followed blindly behind and voted for Democrat candidates, just like my dad, his dad, and his dad before him. Eventually — and thankfully, I saw the light, and began the process of honoring conservative values. And later on, I became a proud supporter of Donald J. Trump on the day he announced his candidacy, June 16, 2015.

This leads us full circle, back to the article’s title, “Democrats Don’t Know Beans.” That’s very apparent, because in their efforts to systematically destroy our Constitutional Republic and replace it with a socialist brand, Democrats have proved over and again, especially in the cities and states they control that now lay in waste, they don’t know how to govern, either.

Written By: Fred McKinley


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