My mother won't like this article. My sisters won't believe it. But my personal story is an honest one. That's what blogging is all about!
My father saw what he wanted to see. At least where I was concerned. I've blocked a bit of that childhood out, I suppose. I do remember getting punished for things I didn't do. Being the oldest of four that's inevitable. So down to my father's version of the old woodshed we'd go! The basement! Now this never was a pleasant trip. In fact, I hated it! My good 'ole Dad would get out a thick, wooden paddle called an "Indian Wack-em Paddle". And swing away! With the swing he had he could have bested Babe Ruth!
Needless to say that incredibly hard, well-built paddle didn't last long! Oh, no! Now came the leather-tooled belt! Let's just say the pain blazed through my bottom and embedded itself in my heart!
Crying? Not allowed! Heaven forbid! So I stuck my tongue between my teeth on the side of my mouth...And saw STARS! My dear daddy , enraged by what he had decided was my downright defiance and belligerence, had struck again! From that day on he convinced himself I was sticking my tongue in my cheek to defy him. What was a child to do? Cry and be struck again? Or bite her tongue to keep from crying out? So many times he would accuse me of sticking my tongue in my cheek even when I wasn't being punished. Of course, what little girl in her right mind would do that ON PURPOSE? Not I! But he'd order me back down to that basement! I believe he liked the power!Tweet This Post