The Punishment

Daddy did not believe in hitting children. Reason, he claimed, was a better deterrent than force.

Mama disagreed. She said a hard whack from an open hand on a bare bottom was the only thing a small child could understand.

So Mama was the disciplinarian in our house. She administered quick and painful (though not undeserved) punishment; while Daddy ignored the things we did wrong and showered us with praise when we did something right. 

Because of these two diametrically opposed theories of child rearing, we children doted on Daddy, while we treated Mama with a cold, guarded respect.  

One morning I heard her say to Daddy, “Ted, those young’uns love you more than they love me, because you let them get away with murder.”

Daddy objected. “ Pauline, that’s not so. It’s just that you’re so stern all the time, they’re afraid to show you any affection. It wouldn’t hurt you to show some compassion once in a while.”

That made Mama irate. “I’ll show them compassion when they learn to behave!”

Mama was tired of always being the bad guy. One day, she decided to do something about it. That morning, I asked Mama if I could go home with my friend Cathy after school. Mama said, “NO!” I went anyway.

Walking home from Cathy’s that afternoon, I knew what would be waiting for me when I got there: Mama, on the front porch with a switch. 

I was not worried, though. I had had so much fun at Cathy’s that I did not mind getting switched for it.

Besides, Mama was a little woman: five feet two inches tall, eighty-five pounds. She did not pack a hard wallop.

When I got home, however, I did not find what I expected. Mama was not on the front porch. She was inside, arms folded across her chest, shaking with anger. When I walked through the front door, she hollered at Daddy, “Ted, take that young’un into the back room and whip her good. I’m so mad, if I do it, I might kill her!”

To my surprise, Daddy said, “All right, Pauline” Then he walked me into the back room and shut the door. My knees were knocking like they were made out of Jell-O

Daddy asked, “Linda, you know what you did wrong today, don’t you?”

I nodded. I was too scared to speak.

Daddy looked grim. “Reckon I’ll have to take care of this.”

If I was scared before, I was terrified now. 

Like I said, Mama was a little woman and did not pack a hard wallop. Daddy, though, was six feet five inches tall and weighed 235 pounds. One blow from his huge right hand would knock me into tomorrow. 

Worse than that, though, was the humiliation of knowing that I would be the only child who had ever been bad enough for him to have to hit. 

He rolled up his sleeves and whispered, “Linda, I’m going to bang my hands together as hard as I can. While I’m doing that, you act like it’s you I’m whipping. And be good about it. Your mama is not easy to fool.”

This conspiracy shed a new light on things. This could be fun! While Daddy banged his hands together hard, I screamed and hollered.

After Daddy stopped, he made an invisible X on his chest with his right index finger. That was a secret sign between us that what happened in that room that day would not pass either of our lips unless one of us was dead. Then Daddy opened the door and trudged into the living room. I followed, my face streaked with crocodile tears.

Suddenly, Mama ran to me and threw her arms around me. “My baby!” she cried. Then she turned to Daddy and sneered, “You didn’t have to hit her that hard.”

After that, Daddy would volunteer to administer punishment when it was necessary, but Mama would not let him. He did not know his own strength, she said.

So things went back to the way they had always been. The only thing that changed was me. 

After that day I felt different about Mama. I stopped saying things that might hurt her feelings, and I quit purposely doing things that I knew made her mad. I realize now that Mama and I became close as a result of the punishment. 

Both of my parents are gone now, and Daddy would not mind my sharing this story. 

In fact, he probably chuckles whenever he hears me tell it. And Mama? I like to think she is beside Daddy, smiling as she says to him, “I reckon you were right after all, Ted. It doesn’t hurt to show some compassion … once in a while!”