I don't have any especially warm feelings for my father, but that's not mainly because he spanked me, but becuase he was unfair and psychically dominant in general when I was a child. I can't blame him much, though, since he's an aspie himself, and at that time wasn't even aware of the existence of AS. Now when he knows that I'm an aspie and probably knows that he is one himself, though openly denying it, he seems to deeply regret his old behaviour. My NT mother spanked me and even slapped me on the face a couple of times when I was a kid, but I don't hate her for that. She's my favourite parent. And they always stood up for me against others when I was in trouble, which I often was.
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Agree, Tig. I loved both my parents dearly.
My parents were both a treasure. They did not let this kid spoil for want of the rod.
I grew up in an era when everyone slapped their kids for the least cross word and spanked them with belts and paddles across the lower butt and upper legs for not finishing a chore on time. I got lots of belt spankings that left welts on me, but so did most everyone, else. My mom's diamond ring has bloodied my lip many times from a careless or hurried backhanded slap across my smartass mouth. It was the way it was done with kids and I didn't need to understand it ... I needed to learn from it (
) ... there was a lesson there, each time, because my parents were not abusive with their discipline.
Teachers also paddled kids who got out of line or talked back. Our shop teacher used to make special paddles for each teacher, fancy ones, with engraved names or burned-in designs. Some of them had holes in them to make even more pain and welts where they hit. Some teachers even had little gunracks to hold their paddles in prominent display. One of the coaches used to give "licks" every day to a number of deserving trouble makers.
He would stand at the showers and whip your wet ass and then laugh at the severe, reddened welts he proudly left behind. He hit me many times for not keeping my shirt on. I hated clothes at times and a sweaty t shirt was awful on my back. That got me lots of licks, from his two handed, inch-thick, hardwood paddle, with holes drilled in it for aerodynamics. The holes also whistled, warningly as he swung it. It was his daily ritual, he enjoyed it, kept a little ceremony to put his best effort forward and he did it well. It wasn't everyone who got licks, though. Only about five or ten out of about sixty got licks, each day and not always the same ones. He was not considered abusive, even though he put so much sadism into his ritual. He had five Phys-Ed classes to maintain, so he got to do his wet ass-licking ritual every hour.
