Most folks have a favorite verse that is their "anchor". The one they think about when trying to understand how to approach life's situations. I think Mama and Daddy's must have been Proverbs 13:24 "He that spareth his rod hateth his son: but he that loveth him chasteneth him betimes."!!
They had no specific "rod" in their arsenal. It could be a belt, switch, fly swat, hand, or whatever was within reach at the time. I'm not saying we got a whipping every day, but we got "chasteneth betimes"! The key was to minimize the frequency (by behaving yourself or just not getting caught misbehaving) or minimizing the pain during the whipping (by not putting your hand between the "rod" and whatever part of the body it was supposed to strike).
I was told to go pick my own switch and bring it to Daddy. The idea was to minimize the pain. I chose a small, keen little limb. That was a mistake! Those things can wrap around your whole leg! Once Dale and I were getting proof that Daddy didn't "hateth his son". He never had a set number of licks in mind. He usually just swatted until you showed that you have sufficiently repented. This often meant tears. It was fortunate that I had on a thick pair of pants that day. The pain really didn't warrant tears, but I managed to fake one or two. When Daddy left the room I noticed that Dale was wearing thin knit pants. His tears were not fake! I guess he wasn't prepared to meet his rod!
They had no specific "rod" in their arsenal. It could be a belt, switch, fly swat, hand, or whatever was within reach at the time. I'm not saying we got a whipping every day, but we got "chasteneth betimes"! The key was to minimize the frequency (by behaving yourself or just not getting caught misbehaving) or minimizing the pain during the whipping (by not putting your hand between the "rod" and whatever part of the body it was supposed to strike).
I was told to go pick my own switch and bring it to Daddy. The idea was to minimize the pain. I chose a small, keen little limb. That was a mistake! Those things can wrap around your whole leg! Once Dale and I were getting proof that Daddy didn't "hateth his son". He never had a set number of licks in mind. He usually just swatted until you showed that you have sufficiently repented. This often meant tears. It was fortunate that I had on a thick pair of pants that day. The pain really didn't warrant tears, but I managed to fake one or two. When Daddy left the room I noticed that Dale was wearing thin knit pants. His tears were not fake! I guess he wasn't prepared to meet his rod!