Punishment 101

Your parents are your role models. They are not perfect. I know now that perfection is not achievable. I am sure my own children will find fault with much of what I do. My only solice is in knowing when they reach my age and have their own children they will understand.

We were punished as we grew up. It was complete and at times harsh but obviously, we survived. Our folks believed in spanking. My Dad would use a belt. Mom would use a switch. We had a crabapple tree in the front yard of 23rd street. That was my moms switch of choice. As I write these words I can almost feel the sting of the branch across the back of my bare legs. We hated that tree and all it represented. A swat with the switch was doled out sparingly. No doubt, the thought of a crabapple welt was enough to keep us from getting really out of control. Mom didn't have a quick temper she had to be really upset to get started on you, but when she did, watch out. That little woman could wield a mean switch.

Dad liked the belt. He had a quick temper and believed in his principals. You didn't want to argue with Dad. If he spoke, he spoke with authority. These are great characteristics for a father. In a pinch, you want someone you can depend on. He was your greatest proponent when he was on your side. You knew when Dad was coming to your defense someone had hell to pay. Good when defending you, bad when targeting you. Dad was a little unorthodox. There were 4 of us kids. It must have been a lot of stress keeping up with us. When something happened ( it was usually something was broken or misplaced) he would call us all together and ask us what happened. We were not stupid kids. No one wanted to admit to the crime. We knew he was going to whip the one that did it. The story would always end the same. After an excruciating amount of blasting with no results (except for the 4 of us crying and hoping it would come to an end) he would send us to the other room with an instruction " you decide which one is lying and have them come clean or all 4 of you will get the whippin" Well of course, we would scamper into the other room and start the round-a-bout. "Was it you?" "Was it you? " The argument in the room would drag out. Dad was a genius. Pit the 4 young ones against each other till one of them broke. That was the hope. The result was a lot different. We had decided, even at that young age, that you couldn't win in this situation. Even if no one admited it, this could go on for hours. One thing you could say about our Dad, he had staying power. Not a quitter. So, once the door was closed the conversation went something like this. "Whose turn is it to take the blame?" With a few turns of conversation, the choice would be made. One of us would step out in the light and speak those fateful words. " I did it, I'm Sorry" and the punishment would be doled out.

We usually never found out who really did the crime. It didn't mattter. At some point, I guess everyone got a turn. It played out evenly. The best thing to do, was to keep a good balance and not do something that got things wound up. This kept things quiet and uneventful, just what we wanted.