... in the words of Eddie Vedder, "I guess it was the beatings that made me wise".
And look, I'm sure Judith Martin would advise me that it's probably best to leave politics and religion and the NFL out of dinner conversation and off of the Facebook (and blog) ... but when that's all that the blathering idiots (aka the 24 hour news cycle) find important in today's world, it kind of makes one want to join in.
I should probably admit right up front that I clearly can't speak to the African American experience (because, for some reason, if you follow the news, only black people beat their kids). I've seen some views that seem extreme ... such as how the switch-to-the-scrotum child-rearing strategy perpetuates the whippings of slavery ... but, then again, who am I to speak to that world?
I can say that I did grow up during the time when corporal punishment (the less inflammatory way to say switch-to-the-scrotum) was acceptable ... even in school. I don't remember names, but I feel more than certain that my sixth grade teacher successfully paddled someone in the hallway ... and for sure, I remember fraternity style wooden implements of ass-destruction that hung on the walls somewhere near the clocks of multiple classrooms. Of course, that ASSault was only after said offender found himself going off the deportment chart (my elementary school had somehow taken prison style behavior management systems and perfected them to curtail burgeoning anti-social activity).
I don't remember it being a part of high school .... but there was that time when a 9th grade teacher picked up a kid who was being obnoxious ... chair and all ... and threw him against the wall (the names of those involved in that scenario I *do* remember, but I'll choose not to disclose them what with my high school reunion coming up and all). Again ... to the best of my knowledge, no lawsuits were filed. And that kid didn't end up owning the high school or anything. And the teacher kept on teaching (understandingly, to classes that were EXTREMELY well-behaved beyond that point).
My personal exposure to this type of situation didn't happen at school ... it happened at home. In my household, it was "the slipper" that was the weapon of choice, and it was wielded by the father figure. I'm sure I was accosted by it more times than I can count on both hands ... but there's just once that I remember it going on and on and on much longer than it should have, round and round and round the dining room table at our home in Jonestown, with a few swats in the kitchen and the living room (because, let's face it ... I'm a smart kid ... and I did try to get away).
Did I learn from my beating that day? Here's the kicker ... I have absolutely no idea *why* I was punished that way. Was I playing with matches? Did I tell a lie? Almost kill a sibling (accidentally, of course)? Interrupt the step-mother during her daily General Hospital time? I don't know. So unless the behavior was beaten right out of me ... chances are it didn't change my actions (although I've never killed a sibling ... so if that was the reason ... then I guess that was a *win* for the parental units).
Instead, what I remember from that day was that a guy who came from a generation that never even figured out how to express love (coming from the original Great Depression, the fact that there was a roof over the heads and food in the bellies of those he sired was the extent of his parental duty) sure didn't seem to have too much trouble inflicting pain. (There's a slight chance that the old "this hurts me more than it will hurt you" was said ... but without a base of unconditional love, it wouldn't have rung true even if uttered.)
The other thing I remember ... a gleeful wife-of-the-time watching the whole thing. She and I would go on to battle for years and years, with those being more often mental instead of physical (although she did employ the same "stress-positions" used in Abu Ghraib to torment terrorists ... so ... you know ... she was *that* kind of sadist). Happy ending alert ... although I lost a few of those battles, I did ultimately win that war.
It will be no surprise to anyone who reads my rants (and thanks to those of you who do), that I'm sure that the answer lies in some kind of balance. And here's the second kicker of the post ... the talent of knowing the exact point of balance is one not often seen. Sadism? Probably abuse of a child. Not having the skill set to express love? Also probably somewhere on the child abuse continuum tipping toward the unpleasant end.
Scrotum scars? Definitely child abuse.
AND I AM NOT ABOUT TO GIVE THANKS OR APOLOGIZE:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xfqzQKt9UeA
THE OPINION THAT SWTICHES PERPETUATE SLAVERY:
http://thegrio.com/2014/09/15/adrian-peterson-child-abuse-slavery/
DIDN'T CATCH THE JUDITH MARTIN REFERENCE:
http://www.missmanners.com/
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