The Punishment of Punishments

This post is a tribute to my beautiful mother: Beverly Young.  She passed away one week ago on July 27th.  Mom did wonderful things for us kids from teaching us to make believe and dream big to making lunch for school.  Sometimes, however, she had discipline us.  This is my story.....

My parents weren't grounders.  There were no time-outs.  Those benign forms of punishment didn't really phase us.  We liked spending time at home and frankly my parents saw keeping us at home when we were being annoying as a punishment for themselves.  So they became spankers.  Say all of the bad stuff you want about spanking you tree-hugging hippy, a good whipping communicated with me in ways that your hand holding, super nanny ways never could.  See I have a hard-wired booty-brain connection that helped me to develop a moral compass.  Although my Dad is an imposing figure 6 foot plus and 220 plus, it was Mom you didn't want to spank you.  Dad would get you once or twice with the belt and you could keep your jeans or football pants or whatever on.  Take the licks, fake some tears and listen to the lecture that followed and you could go about your business.  

Mom was a different story.  We called her "Metal Arm".  It was bare-bottom hand-to-butt combat.  Mom would spank you until she got tired.  She would spank you until you got the message.  There was no after spanking lecture because you always got the message.  For all I know the woman may have spanked a few years off of my life.  You would just hold on and pray that she would hit both cheeks otherwise you might walk in a circle for about a month from being lopsided.  Once I fought with all my might to hold back the tears so that I could show her that she wasn't so tough... but you know what?  She WAS that tough.  She was across the room, easily 20 feet away.  I was at the door with my hand on the knob.  I waited until there was maximum distance between me and her to shrug my shoulders and say "That didn't hurt".  All I know is that I never made it out the door and she addressed my "concern".

I value these spankings greatly because they taught me that I could do whatever I wanted to but that there had to be consequences.  Please don't interpret any of what I have written to mean that Mom was in any way a cruel woman.  No the cruelty came when she discovered the ultimate form of punishment.  I once attempted to call the Department of Health and Human Services in hopes that they would intervene.  They just laughed at me.  That's what made this form of punishment so devastating.... nobody would or could rescue you.

When we would start to fight Mom would come into the middle of the room and command us all to get on our knees.  Once we had all knelt down she too would kneel..... and begin to pray.  The prayer would go something like this:

Father in Heaven, I kneel before you at this time to apologize for the fact that my children are poorly behaved.  Please forgive me for any part I may have had in them turning out to be so contentious.  I tried Heavenly Father.  I honestly tried.  I took vitamins while I was pregnant with them.  I tried to give them love but they just seem to want to fight and be mean.

The prayer would last for about one hour like this.  By the time she finished none of us could walk because either our knees were too numb or our legs would not unfold from under us.  This punishment would spill over into the next few prayers too.  Morning prayer, Evening prayer, even prayers over meals would be no shorter than 20 minutes.  After a while we developed a plan whereby one of us would volunteer to pray and offer a much shorter but still reasonable 1-2 minute prayer.  After "Amens" Mom would smile, thank whoever had prayed, and the say "Now it's my turn".  It wasn't fair.  It's one thing to fight with your sister.  Its another to defy Mom and her chosen form of discipline, but when you're afraid that God might strike you with lightning when you try to escape there is no escape.

So what do I do with my girls?  I mostly yell, we do some time-outs and the rare spanking.  I'm saving the punishment of punishments, the method Mom invented and perfected.  I'm just waiting until one of the girls shows up with some boy.

But in the end Mom's methods worked.  She raised 5 children and all of them have received great educations, none of us have ever done drugs, had a child out of wedlock, gone to jail or voted for Ralph Nader.  Thanks Mom.  Rest well.

Tahoe?? Tah-NO!

Recently in an attempt to rescue my wife from a life of being a "mini-van mom" we traded in the old Honda Odessy and purchased an almost new red Chevy Tahoe. It's beautiful. 5,200 lbs of American metal and miles and miles of wires. From the DVD player (AKA child silencer) to the seat heaters (bun toasters) we never could have imagined having a car this nice. Power trunk, automatic folding seats, wireless headphones... I can even hear the little computer inside it booting up whenever the door is opened. In all honesty I am sometimes a little bit disappointed when the car doesn't talk back to me like on Knight Rider. I never thought that we would own a vehicle where we would have to coax the girls to get out after a ride with candy and college funds.

The other day we had quite a bit of running around to do. While Mandy and the girls sat in the car and watched a movie I would run into this place for 5 minutes and that place for 2 minutes. We had to make a 20 minute stop at the home of a woman who is making some illustrations for my clinic. Afterward I jumped into the driver's seat, pushed the button to automatically adjust the seat to my comfort, and that's about where the nightmare began. I turned my key in the ignition and all of the sudden it's "rrrrrr.....rrrrr....click click click....". It was the sound of my heart dying. MY CAR! MY BEAUTIFUL CAR! All the lights went dim. The DVD player ground to a halt, the satellite radio cut off, systems errors started to flash on the dash: "Stabilitrack Disabled," "Park Assist Disabled," "Check Battery, "HELP ME JASON I'M DYING!"

The whole family was dumb founded. "I think our battery is dead," I said. This was met with cries of disbelief, sorrow, and incredulity. "No seriously, I think that we have run down the battery." Mandy asked how that was possible. Granted, there are about a million and three electrical devices in the car and we use just about all of them. I guess it would have been more reasonable to ask how it hadn't happened sooner but given all of the other bells and whistles we thought that instead of a standard car battery that there would be a miniature nuclear reactor or something like that under the hood to meet the energy needs.

I told the family not to panic, I would go back to the house and ask if they could give us a jump start. I tried to open my door: nothing. Oh NO! The power locks were broken! WE'RE TRAPPED! I started to hyperventilate. I couldn't even roll down the power windows or open the power sunroof to crawl out. How much oxygen was in this thing and how long would it take us to run out? "EVERYBODY BREATHE SLOWLY. TRY TO CONSERVE THE AIR." Mandy, who was obviously consuming plenty of oxygen was quick to point out that the manual locks still worked. After escaping from the disabled vehicle Mandy and the girls went into the house to visit while the man of the house and I embarked on the simple task of jumping the Tahoe.

My jumper cables were in the trunk. Without thinking I hit the button on my key ring that would typically cause it to open slowly using an automated system. But of course I forgot that there was no power so that didn't work. I tried the handle but instead of a latch there is just a button that you push to activate the automatic door. Useless. Now I felt just as locked out as I had felt locked in a moment earlier. Obvious answers weren't coming to me quickly in this paniced state. It took a full 3 or 4 minutes before I realized that I could just crawl into the back of the SUV from the inside and get the jumper cables (operating completely by feel since the lights back there no longer worked).

Fortunately the manufacturers had the foresight to make the hood mechanism completely manual otherwise it would have warranted its own paragraph. Once we got under the hood the sight was amazing. Everything under the hook was emaculate, organized, and impressive. It was what you might expect to see when you pop the hood on the starship Enterprise (that's Star Trek for you non-nerds out there). We quickly found what we assumed was the battery. It was a box about the size of a battery and there were thick electrical cables coming out of it. We opened the cover on the box only to find a bunch of labeled fuses: Lights, Stereo, Mirrors, Wash/Dryer, DVD Player, Rotissere Grill, Windshiled Wipers, Time Travel, Etc. After spending 15 minutes trying to figure out how in the world to replace the cover on the "fake" battery we searched the other side of the car for the real one. When we found it I was pleased to see that it was set up special for jumping. (Apparently other people have had this problem before). There was a bright red box that when opened had a perfect spot for hooking up the positive lead of the jumper cable. This was too easy! There had to be, and there was, a catch. If you know anything about electricity you know that you need to have a positive and a negative to complete the circuit. In this case and metal part of the car would have done. Our problem? To keep the engine area so emaculate and clean just about every piece of metal in there have been coated with this plastic like substance, completely insulating it. It only took about 20 minutes in the dark to find a piece of metal that would get the job done.

The whole experience made me grateful for simple things in our lives like butter churns and manual washing machines. Now I see the wisdom of the manual can opener, potato powered shortwave radios and checkers rather than the Xbox 360. Technology has made me soft and a little bit stupid. I'm going to start doing things a little more old fashioned from now on (I vow on my electronic journal via the information super highway). Tomorrow morning, I'm not even going to press that button on my power toothbrush, I'm going to do it like the Amish instead.

20 Questions

I bet you thought you'd never hear from me again... And given that thought this latest entry is so appropriate.



I was out to eat with my family last night at Applebee's. My two little girls, though adorable, can become like nails to a chalkboard when they get even a little bit bored. Tonight was especially bad and out of the corner of my eye I could see my wife who was wearing an expression like she was about to jump up on our table and auction the girls of to the FIRST bidder (not even necessarily the highest). For the sake of keeping our sanity and out of prision, I decided that I would teach my little darlings, Taylor (3) and Rilee (2) a fun game: 20 questions.



"Girls," I said. "We're going to play a fun game where you get to ask Daddy a lot of questions. I'm going to pick one thing on the table and then you can ask me 'yes' or 'no' questions to find out what it is. You can ask questions like, 'Is it red?'"



Taylor: "Is it red Daddy?"



Me: "Uh... Well... wait for the game to start but yes, it is red."



I continued explaining the rules and we were off to a great start. By the end of the 8th question they had established, largely through Taylor's guesses, that the object was indeed red and sitting on the table where we were seated. Then Rilee took over with a line of questioning that would rival the late Johnny Cochrane (of OJ Simpson fame... "If it don't fit you must acquit"). It went like this:



Me: Ok Girls so you know that it is red and on the table.



Rilee (pointing to a red drink on the menu): It is that drink Daddy?



Me: No



Rilee (Pointing at the brown talbe): Is it.... the table?!?!



Me: Nope, Rilee I said it is red.



Rilee (Pointing at the window): Is it that?



Me: No.



Rilee (Pointing to a painting on the wall): Is it that?



Me: No.



Rilee (pointing to the white ceiling): Is it that?



Me: No.



This continued with Rilee rattling off questions like a machine gun. Fork? Spoon? Salt Shaker? Waitress? Needless to say they lost.



We finished our meal and we were trying to coax the girls from under the table so that we could pack up and go home. When we finally got them up we noticed that there was a lady standing at our table with a newborn and smiling at us. Oh crap.... I know this lady, or I should because she is certainly looking like she recognizes us. You see, Mandy and I are easy to spot in a crowd and we tend to stick out in people's memories. She thinks its because we are a bi-racial couple. I think its because I'm so handsome and fun. Anyway. I can tell it's game on.



Lady: Hey you two! We thought that we recognized you sitting over here. How have you been?



I look at Mandy who looks at me and neither of us is registering a name at this point. Is it a social taboo to demand to see the driver's license of anybody who strikes up a conversation that you have only met once or haven't see in the past 2 years?



Mandy (Question #1): We're good how about you?



Lady: Oh we're doing just fine we just are finishing up dinner. (That's no help)



Me (Question #2): I'm surprised that you guys remember us what are the chances of that?



Lady: Well "Bob" (name change) spotted you and so I thought that I'd come over and say "hi". How have you been doing?



Mandy (Question #3): We're doing great. We just moved back to the area after being gone for a few years. Are you guys living around here?



Lady: No we're up in Independence now. Where did you guys move from?

(AHA! Obviously not friends from Portland.... Good one Mandy.)



Me (Question #4): Oh we were up in Portland for Chiropractic School and I just opened a clinic down here. What's the last 4 digits of your social?



Lady: That's right I heard that you are a chiropractor now. I was just talking with some friends about how wierd it would be to have a friend of yours as you doctor. You know because they would have to see you naked and all.



Mandy (Question #5): What kind of clinic do you think we're running?!? Who are we going to be seeing naked?

(Not a great one for the game but yeah... what kind of clinic does she think we're running?)



Lady: Oh well I just meant for massages and stuff. So are you liking it?



Me (Question #6): Yeah... loving it. Look, who are some of the old friends that we have in common like....



Lady: We see "Betty" all the time. She said she'd never come see you either. Are these your girls?



Mandy (Question #7): Yep those are our two princesses. Now how many do you have?



Lady: 4 now.



Me (Question #8): And how many did you have last time we saw you?



Lady: What?



Mandy (Question #9): Yeah good question. When we saw you last did you have a child and if so how old?

Lady: Uh.... I don't know.

Jason (Question #10): Are you bigger than a bread box?

Lady: A what?

Mandy (Question #11): A bread box. You know where you keep bread. Just answer the question are you bigger than a bread box and are you somebody we would see on a daily basis?

Lady: You're making me nervous and scaring my baby.

Jason (Question #12): Animal, Mineral or vegetable huh? COME ON! ANIMAL, MINERAL, OR VEGETABLE!!!

At this point she turned to her husband and yelled, "HONEY START THE CAR! THERE'S SOMETHING WRONG WITH THE YOUNGS"

Bad news is that at this point she left with all four of her kids crying. Good news is that we ended up winning the game. If you're reading this now I want you to know that we remember you now. I'm sorry that we strung you along for a while but we remember you and your husband and now that we do it was good to see you! Technically you shouldn't feel bad that we didn't remember you right off the bat since you didn't even answer the last couple questions and we had about 8 left.