At my 50th high school reunion, a friend asked me, "Why didn't we have a drug problem when we were growing up?" I replied that I had a drug problem when I was young: I was drug to church on Sunday morning. I was drug to church for weddings and funerals. I was drug to family reunions and community socials no matter the weather. I was drug by my ears when I was disrespectful to adults. I was also drug to the woodshed when I disobeyed my parents, told a lie, brought home a bad report card, did not speak with respect, spoke ill of the teacher or the pastor. I was drug to the kitchen sink to have my mouth washed out with soap if I uttered a profanity. I was drug out to pull weeds in mom's or grandma's garden and flower beds. Those drugs are still in my veins and they affect my behaviour in everything I do, say, or think. They are stronger than cocaine, crack or heroin, and if today's children had this kind of drug problem, this country would be a better place. God bless the parents and grandparents who drugged us!
It’s amazing to me coming up on 32 and raising a 3 year old the stuff that’s changed just in the short time I’ve been around. Makes me sick!!
Mom had 4 boys and carried a leather belt around her neck. She made my sister go out and cut her own "switch" and when it wasn't big enough, she had to go back for the right one. Funny...I don't remember her ever having to use either. Ok, maybe once.......on me, but I deserved it. That would be a 30 year prison sentence nowadays (or whatever). And no, I didn't dredge it up for some sort of cleansing or catharsis. Comparisons can be very interesting.
papadave, um, those skinny little switches off a lilac tree hurt worse than the big ones, they would wrap around your legs like a whip. Don't ask how I know this.
PROPER parenting certainly is! If I was as disrespectful as my stepdaughter is, I would have gotten my azz kicked by my mother.
Whenever my grandmother would come for a visit, she would often bring a small present. It was , more often than not, one of those wooden paddles that had a long rubber band stapled to it and on the other end there was a small red rubber ball attached to the rubber band. Ideally, the aim of the game was to wack the ball which would then bungee out and in against the paddle. Would work fine for a short while until the ball flew into the next county and did not return. At that stage, my mother, being the resourceful person she was, would reconfigure the paddle into a implement of "attitude adjustment" meant to heat my seat when I stepped off "that righteous path". damm, I got to hate those paddles.............
Yup............ especially the ones equipped with the 12"wooden rulers with the steel edge and the round wooden pointers with the rubber tips. Been there, done that one too
I made the mistake of swearing in front of my mother this past thanksgiving. Before i even realized i did it she smacked me in the back of my head. In front of my children and grandchildren. Im 57 and still get in trouble.
My mother said the nuns had pockets for the yard sticks when she was in school. And they carried them too.