Today many “experts” say that better education, better access to family services, have enabled parents to raise obedient children without corporal punishment. Now you can have a child take a ten-minute “time out” and he or she would have learned her lesson and if she didn’t well she better be prepared for that other “time out”. Other parents prefer to count from five to one and that child better stop doing that mischief or else, they might have to put down that iron fist and send you to that corner to think about what you have done.
Well, that did not work in my house. In our home my dad ruled his “throne” with an iron fist, literally. If he deemed it necessary he would strike us in a heartbeat. If my brother’s and I would misbehave, say for example we did not mind my mom, or misbehaved at school, and he found out (which he always seemed to do), he would be waiting for us at the door ready to unleash his favorite belt. Sometimes he would keep on going until he ran out of breath and for a man out of shape like him he could sure last. Usually the end result would be our legs full of welts and him saying “ Ya ven, por andar haciendo sus pendejadas”, which meant in not so much colorful words “you see, for going out and doing your stupid things”. His favorite, and probably for parents of the same generation was to make us get the item for him to spank us with, it could be a branch, a belt or even sometimes a cord of some sort. It made us reflect while we were walking back to receive our punishment.
People today might call it abuse, both psychological and physical. But for my father it was discipline. We never went to the store and asked for something. Because we had already been warned by “Pops”, and God forbid we tested him and asked. All he had to do his look at us with those gleaming eyes and touch his belt. That was all the answer we needed. Children today will proceed to throw tantrums until they get what they want and also after having embarrassed the parents. You can’t spank them in public anymore because you will have Social Services knocking at your door. That never stopped my dad, if we “needed” it, he would educate us at any place or time.
Can’t blame the man, this was the only way he knew how to discipline. He wasn’t “educated”, he had not read all those Dr Spock books about raising kids, and certainly had no means to sent himself or us to some sort of therapy. “It all part about growing up”, he would say. All he had going for him was his perception of good or bad and his past experiences in dealing with it. And until this day I thank him and tell him how much I appreciate all he had done for me. He taught me how to be a man of respect and most importantly how to respect others. I have never disrespected women because of that one time I did my mom and my dad slapped me. He taught me that a woman should be respected, no matter what she has done not to deserve it. I also have never stolen because of that one time that my father caught my brother and I as kids trying to put some candy in our pockets with out paying, and after spanking us in front of customers in the store and making us apologize to the cashier, taught me that anything and everything I want should be paid for.
Even today he continues to be a great father and now a grandfather. He always gave us a roof over our heads, food in the table and unconditional love, with the occasional whooping. But hey he did his best and succeeded in raising in my opinion a fine batch of children. And for that I thank him.
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