Oh No... Not The Children!

Updated: Dec 20, 2018

I remember back in 1979 when I was 10 years old and in the 5th grade. I use to roll up pencil sharpener shavings in note book paper and pretend that they were joints (marijuana cigarettes). I did not smoke them, I'd just pretend that they were joints and kept them in my desk at school and a time or two pretended to take a few drags to make a friend laugh. I probably learned this from watching Saturday Night Live or Cheech And Chong. Who knew that would be a dress rehearsal for future use. Me and my friend's favorite word(s) were Motherfucker, although Goddamn was surely a favorite too, as was Son of A Bitch. I had friends who would say H, E, double hockey stick (as a substitute for HELL) but I thought that was just stupid. My dad had a pretty tall stack of Playboy magazines in my parent's bathroom and I would use their bathroom often (for looking, not for pulling, that would come 4 years later). Back in those days if you said something that someone did not like (child or adult) you would generally get kabonged on the head or receive some other kind of blunt-force physical trauma that would set you straight and show you your verbal boundaries. Sometimes not, but often very much so, and this was very effective in showing you when to talk and when to shut the fuck up! Children were generally to be seen and not heard, although I think this was kind of a bit lost by the time I was a kid. I don't really give a shit about guns, but my dad did have a gun rack in the basement with several unloaded rifles on them. I never even thought about touching them, fear kept me from even entertaining any thoughts of that whatsoever and I very much knew how they worked. I can remember back as early as the 3rd grade (1976 - 1977) having fairly intelligent opinionated conversations about various topics such as music, wildlife, sports, political and other world events, etc... with friends on a regular basis, that was the norm back then. I'd reckon modern era children of that age are probably still drooling on themselves and making grunting noises at best. Well, probably less a few of the gifted ones anyway. I got whipped often. In our house you did not receive a spanking, you got your "ass tore up", and I do not recall anyone knowing what "timeout" was or what it meant. I rarely got threats or warnings from my mother as she would just light up your ass with a hand, a belt (buckle end included), or a switch and would not let up until you got away or she was through expressing herself. My dad would often threat and intimidate and had a way of really pissing you off. With him, like my mom, it was either a belt or a switch. There were no shoes, fly swatters, flip flops, or other comical objects used. Although one time I did get it with a fishing rod and got a fishhook stuck in my leg, but I think we both (my dad and I) ended up laughing about it. I stopped receiving whippings when I was about 14 and got big enough to take the belt away from him. My mom had given up a few years earlier once she learned I was beyond her control. This was not child abuse, it was preparing you for the world by showing you boundaries. Some children instinctively know these boundaries, I did not. However, I do now... It should be noted that my parents were also quite liberal for those times, I had some friends and other family who's parents weren't so understanding.

#growingup #1970s #georgia #riverdale #blastfromthepast #darylhance #blog #growingup70s


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