Expensive memoriesJanuary 19, 2011
In my memoir, The Thrill of the Chase, I told the story about getting a spanking in junior high for running across some stupid desks. Then that night my father gave me a spanking at home because I’d gotten a spanking at school. Usually I didn’t get more than one a day. Twice was rare and it was kind of an unwritten rule. So if I got a licking in the morning I could relax and be my normal self for the rest of the day.
My father mostly had me figured out and was surprisingly intuitive. For that reason it was hard for me to roll something past him. For instance, sometimes he’d sense that I’d committed a misdeed of some kind but wasn’t positive. Maybe he’d suspect that I’d ditched school to go fishing with Herbert Persky, or some other miniscule infraction. I never lied to him. On those occasions he’d send me to the back hedge to pull a switch the thickness of which I figured was commensurate with the seriousness of the alleged violation.
One of my secret tricks was to put a leaf from the hedge in my mouth and chew on it. It was truly a bitter taste so it helped take my mind off of what was about to happen.
Anyway, the size of the switch was critical to the process so it was always a test of wits, me against my father. I quickly learned that it was not in my best interest to pull a switch that was unreasonably thin because he’d go out and replace it with one that was exaggerated the other way. But if he was just medium mad I’d pick a medium-thick switch and forget the leaf. No big deal.
On rare occasions my father would underestimated what I’d done and he wasn’t really mad. That meant I could pick a thin switch and it’d be a waltz-around. But always during the dance I’d exaggerate the severity of the inflicted pain. That was another secret I had. And a thick handkerchief in both back pockets was good too. I was developing techniques that would serve me well when I got to high school.
But if my father was really, really mad he’d head for the back hedge himself and I knew I was about to be a star player the World Series of switchings. The velocity with which he slammed the screen door on the way out was indicative of the rigorousness of my impending whipping.
Sometimes I knew my father was mad at something else and was taking it out on me. I could tell because what I’d done didn’t merit the punishment, like the time I locked my little sister out of the bathroom. Those lickings never hurt because I knew he was just blowing off steam. I was always willing to help if it made him feel better. Besides, I was so far ahead a good hanging couldn’t catch him up with me.
It can’t be just a coincidence that I never drank, smoked, did drugs, cussed or got pierced and tattooed. Maybe we should reintroduce spanking into our school systems. I’d vote for it. What do you think?
About Me
After retiring from the Air Force in 1970, I built an art gallery in Santa Fe that my wife and I ran for seventeen years. Since then, my energies have been directed toward excavation of a large Indian pueblo and writing books about art and exploration. I hope you enjoy my blog! .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)
3 Comments
Gramma again says: 2:48 pm on January 20, 2011
I was sent to my room or the corner when I was naughty. I rarely drink, have never done drugs, no tattoos. Are you sure cutting all those switches for your Dad is the reason you don't do those things? Maybe you learned the benefit of hard work and realized how taking personal responsibility was the way to get ahead all on your own.
Anonymous says: 12:22 am on January 21, 2011
i had to laugh about cutting your own switches and having to choose the appropriate one. i had to do the same thing. sometimes i had to fetch the paddle (it was so fun to have those things when the rubber string and the ball were attached…so awful to know once they broke they would come to no good end; pun intended). once mom broke the wooden spoon over my bottom after paddling my brother, and i still can't believe that i couldn't help but fall over laughing. she was in such a lather because we kept skipping dish washing to sneak a peak at "wizard of oz" on tv from the pantry door…steve and i kept reporting back to each other what was happening. mom finished up spanking me with her hand and off we went to bed, no wizard. i do believe some kids need the rod (spare the rod spoil the child), and some need just a word. it is rare i can share that with many of my clients because there is such so much fear around what spanking means. i do think the time i got spanked for playing with razor blades was a little redundant since i cut myself! probably reinforcement of the obvious would have done it that time.
mb
William in Texas says: 2:25 am on January 29, 2011
Spankings are good as long as they hurt enough, but not enough to do real damage., especially the emotional kind. It’s the thought that counts… both the thought in your mind as your tail end is hammered, and the thought a parent must have as they administer the desired amount of energy and inflict what at the time usually seemed far worse than it was.
My mother was always easier on us than dad…but when she said “your father will be home soon” we knew there was going to be a round two so we usually began crying, hoping mom would take mercy on our souls and stop her portion of the punishment. She caught us laughing once as we faced each other both getting belt spankings. She turned up the heat and we turned up the tears. My sister and I knew it hurt mom more than us and we knew if something didn’t happen soon dad would be sure to make the night memorable for the next few days. In an odd way it bonded us together as siblings as we shared in the fruits of our labor!
The best of all spankings was through careful but quick witted thinking on my father’s part. I wish his wit and humor had passed along to me. Perhaps it skips a generation. This particular spanking was the last both my sister and I ever had. Dad got up from his chair after missing a comment made by Johnny Carson and due to our arguing in near proximity. We should have already been in bed so our bickering only made it worse and created quite the memorable experience. He just said to sit tight while my mother made sure we didn’t run for cover like mice under an old board in a field when it’s lifted. When he came back, he had a piece of our backyard fence. A six inch wide piece about two feet long. I swore it was some sort of Midevil sword and it wasn’t long before I learned just how smart my dad was.
Having handed the board to my sister he simply stated he was tired of spanking us himself and from now on, we’d take care of it ourselves. She burst into tears as he made her spank me. He told her three licks but she could barely muster the energy to get a good whack off so it took her five to get the job done. Now my sister was a full two years older than me, and on the not so rare occasion used her age, and size to her advantage. Especially when my folks were not around. Being the underdog and having such a golden opportunity, I released at least four years of pent up anger and energy on her. The first four years of my life I could not remember and I’m sure she’d had a hand in that. Being 8 at the time I was beginning to realize that boys are different than girls.
Well…dad told me to have my three swings. He stopped me at two and that was the last spanking our house ever saw.
WBS