At age 40 I was told that "More shall be revealed". I thought they meant more about being happy, joyous and free. Well, they obviously did, but along with all that idealism, more was included. I would revisit my early daze time and again, would keep finding out more which I would have loved to NOT know or remember!
AGE about five:
Well do I recall the night when I first realized, "Hey, I didn't get 'spanked' today--not once!" 'Spanking' was the word adults used then for what is now called 'child abuse'. Not a student of psychology, I'll not try to analyze and determine reasons now--for what was then. Were my parents expressing their fears, frustrations, inferiorities in beating us kids.
I do not recall my siblings being beaten as often or as much as I, but with me it was every day once, twice, thrice or more. I am not writing about 'love taps', but spankings which left a red ass even into the next day. My ass was ALWAYS red, but I never would show anyone. At age five, I even then 'had my pride'. Hmft! (And I'll never ever forget 'razor-strap' day. A parent today would certainly go to jail, if found guilty of 'razor-strap' day's activities.)
Here I've gotta say, I've never blamed my parents for anything which happened to me in living my life. It never occurred to me. I happened to be a 'bad boy'. You know, "Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa". I was not just always getting into trouble...I STAYED in trouble.
One night happened, when it dawned on me that I had escaped punishment one whole day. I truly thought someone made a mistake. I remember about a year later wondering if I could put TWO non-punishment days together. That did not really happen until I was in high school. Still I say our parents were 'good' to me, and the others--I was the oldest of four.
I remember planning at age 14 to break out, run away, but was threatened with the nearby all-boys school (farm) for 'bad boys'. It was run by some 'bad' catholic brothers (Franciscans!), and I used to gaze at that compound of buildings as if the place was Sing Sing Prison. Petrified, I stared past those severing several miles.
Fear gripped me.
My body chilled to a frozen state.
Shaken, shivering.
I would never go near there. Ever!
(Years after, I visited there, a place of hard work, strict--but reasonable--rules. A place where peace and spirituality abounded.)
In a moment of fairness, I add here that I DID put my parents through hell. At a rather early age for those times I left their home to 'be on my own'--yeah, right!
Four wives later, I realize that 'school for bad boys' would have been a good thing...discipline to form character, it's called.
So yes...more is constantly being revealed!
Little_Innocent_Child in Deviant Art
