Newfie June - To Spank or Not to Spank

Recently there has been quite a bit of media attention in Canada over the spanking issue. The Supreme Court had to decide if it was legal to spank your children.

There was a lot of discussion, both pro and con, amongst our friends and acquaintances.

It brought to mind all of the childhood spankings each of us had received. We had a great time regaling each other with the stories of our mis-spent youth.

I was born into a large family; the youngest of seven children. The oldest sibling was eighteen so you can imagine the attention I got! I was given a lot more leeway in my behavior than the older ones, for sure. There were times, however, when I crossed that line of tolerance and left my parents with no choice .I swear I can actually remember the four spankings I received in my young years.

The first was when I was about three and a half or four years old. I loved to admire the contents of my Mother's jewelry box. There was no "real" jewelry in there but Mom had lots of costume earrings…the screw-on type, as she didn't have pierced ears. One night, I was supposed to be in bed and asleep. Everyone was in the living room watching a television movie on The Kraft Theatre. All were engrossed and didn't come check on me. I had taken out all of Mom's earrings, had spread them out over the top of her bureau and was admiring them. Then, I spied the brush! Remember the old brush, comb and hand mirror sets that all women had on their bedroom vanities? Well, I discovered that if I put the screwy part of the earring into the bristle of the brush, the colored top of the earring sat on top of the bristles. I took one of each pair of earrings and set it into the bristles, side by side. It looked like a lovely, colored seashell. I was so thrilled with the results that I forgot I was supposed to be asleep, took the brush in hand and made towards the living room to show my Mother the beautiful treasure I had made. Back then, forced air furnaces had one main vent in the floor in one part of the house. Ours was in the main hallway, through which I had to travel to get to the living room. Of course, I tripped and fell over the furnace vent. The brush tipped over and every earring went into the vent….down directly into the furnace! We lived in apartment housing so the furnace was shared by a number of families. There was no way to retrieve anything once it went down the "hatch." So my Mother ended up with only one of each pair of earrings she had owned and I earned my first red bottom.

The second time, was a year or so later. Two of my older sisters were helping with the housework on a Saturday afternoon. They were busy scrubbing and waxing the kitchen floor. There was only paste wax back then, which had to be smeared over the floor with a cloth and then polished and buffed until it shone. The two sisters in question were twelve and thirteen at the time, so you can imagine they were spending more time skylarking and flicking soap suds at each other, than they were cleaning. Anyway, I wanted to help too. Of course, I was told that I was too young and I should go off and play. Instead, I went into my mother's and father's bedroom, shut the door, took off my little sock and started smearing a large jar of vanishing cream all over the hardwood floor. I started at the door and was working my way across the room when my Mother came looking for me (I had been too quiet for too long….I was up to something). As she opened her bedroom door and set a foot into the room, her feet went up in the air and down she went. I couldn't understand why she was so mad. I was helping after all! I got my bottom swatted but I know that my poor Mother's backside hurt more. It's a wonder she didn't break her back.

My third run in with "the hand" was when I was about seven. We had moved to a different neighborhood, into a small single family house. I was still trying to fit in with the new kids who lived nearby. One of the girls was very bold and seemed to always be getting into trouble. Of course, it was her that I felt I wanted to impress the most. In front of our house was a bus stop. Well, she had the bright idea that we should stand on the sidewalk and wait until the bus was coming up to our stop. At the last minute we would then kick off our shoes in front of the bus and see if the driver would stop or if he would run over them. I was too young and naive to realize that she was yanking my chain. She had no intention of following suit; she just wanted to see if I would go ahead with the plan. The other factor was that we were pretty poor. I got a new pair of shoes at the beginning of the school year and they had to last the whole year. Of course, this was in September and I was wearing my brand new shoes. At the crucial moment, as I was hurling my right shoe from my foot into the path of the bus, my Mother looked out the window and saw me. As it happened, the poor, unsuspecting bus driver did stop…although I'm sure some of the passengers were thinking their stomachs were in their throats… but my shoes were spared. My bottom, however, was not spared. I also spent the rest of the day in bed to consider my folly. I did understand this time why Mom was so mad. I guess by that point in my life, I had developed a sense of right and wrong.

So, whether you agree with spanking children or not, I will attest that I can recall (some forty odd years later) each spanking that I received and what it was delivered for. Surely there must have been life lessons learned through the punishment. I didn't repeat any of the offending activities ever again, I can assure you.

From an older and wiser Newfie June…adieu.

© Newfie June




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