“The Spanking”
Very, very, very fortunately for me…
I was raised in a home that did not believe in Corporal Punishment.
Which means that…
while many might suggest that I certainly deserved it many times over,
I was NEVER spanked.
Not by Dad. Not by Mom.
Instead of spanking…
my mom would “lecture”…um… nag… me.
And trust me, she could lecture with the best of them.
(Sometimes, given the choice, I may have actually opted for the spanking!)
During these filibusters, my strategy was simple:
Never argue.
Look directly into my Mom’s eyes.
Pretend that I was hanging on every word.
And…
hum…
to myself.
Now my Dad was a big, strong guy…
but thankfully, very laid back and easy-going.
However, with him…
there was always the “threat”.
I vividly recall one morning…
when I was playing out one of my oft-repeated rituals…
claiming that I couldn’t go to school because of my signature excuse:
“Nauseous and a Headache” …
(aka… I hadn’t done my homework)…
my Dad burst into my room
He took one look at my looseleaf notebook,
with reinforcement-less pages sticking out from every conceivable angle.
He picked it up and slammed it down!
“THIS IS WHY YOU’RE NAUSEOUS WITH A HEADACHE!!
I thought
Yup, this was the day that I would be spanked.
And so…
by some sort of healing miracle…
I suddenly made a full recovery and astoundingly, was able to go to school.
No spanking from Dad.
No spanking from Mom.
NEVER spanked!
Except…for that one time.
I was supposed to be home by 4:00.
I was instructed to have my homework done and be ready to meet my Mom
when she came home from working “the store” with my Dad.
But suddenly…it was 6:00.
And instead of being home…
I was doing something much more important.
I was walking through the aisles of Safeway (my local grocery),
with my best friend, Heintz.
Why?
Because.
And then…
somehow with that mysterious, unexplainable, all-seeing, all-knowing
“Mother Magic”…
my Mom knew exactly where to find me.
I looked up.
And there she was!!!
Right across from the frozen food case!
With my sister in hand, she much-too-calmly said…
“Robert, let’s go”.
And then…
with that same spooky, emotionless tone,
added perhaps the most chilling words ever uttered…
“And when we get home…you are going to be spanked”,
We were only around the corner from my house…
but I felt like I was “dead man walking” my very last mile.
Fear of the unknown.
Anticipating some medieval torture,
we walked silently…
My mom grasping my hand vise-tightly.
My sister shooting me sympathetic sidelong glances.
My heart thumping.
We arrived at the door of 60 Buchanan Place.
“Ellen, you wait outside”, Mom told my sister.
“Oh man, ”, I thought, “This is gonna be bad” .
We entered my usually welcoming living room…
and there,
covering virtually every square inch of the living room carpet was…
MY TREASURED BASEBALL CARDS!!!
I had left them scattered recklessly,
looking as if there was some sort of Topps trading card “explosion”!
This enraged my mom even more!
Not showing any macho bravado whatsoever…
I started crying before the first contact.
THEN IT HAPPENED!!!
My Mom picked up a wooden yardstick that we had from the store…and…
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Three quick,
(somewhat half-hearted),
smacks to my rear-end.
Honestly…
they hardly stung.
BUT…that didn’t prevent me from “screaming bloody murder”!
Outside, on the front steps,
my always-caring big sister screamed out for all the neighborhood to hear…
“MY MOTHER IS BEATING MY BROTHER!!!!!!”
But just when my sobbing began to wane…
and I felt as if I had endured the worst, virtually unscathed…
it got worse.
MUCH worse!
My Mom went over to my mess of a pile of cards
and TOTALLY AT RANDOM…
picked up my beloved Whitey Ford and Mickey Mantle…
and TORE THEM IN HALF!!!
Now the uncontrollable bawling really started.
I wouldn’t doubt if some of my Buchanan Place neighbors
may have suspected some real child abuse.
And they would have been right.
I mean, C’mon…
WHITEY AND MICKEY!!!!
I never got spanked again.
But I will never forget “The Spanking”.
Would love to hear stories of your most memorable “spankings”.
(Misery love company).
