I am a mother who raised children in the 1970s and firmly believed in the use of a spanking to set young minds straight. I think that it did my two daughters well when I was raising them as a single mother, and I believe that there would be a good deal less juvenile crime if there was more punishment by mothers.
One instance I remember was in the autumn of 1972. My 13-year-old daughter Christine was two hours late coming home from school. I was worried sick. Finally, she came traipsing into the kitchen. She acted like nothing had happened. But I was intent on punishing her. I informed her of the time. “Oh mom, I completely lost track of the time!” she said.
I didn’t buy it. I informed her that she would be spanked. With that, I took her hand firmly and led her to my bedroom. “Take off your clothes,” I instructed her. All spankings were always done on the bare. She stripped down and soon she was completely naked as the day she was born. She began to cry and protest – but to no avail.
I picked up the belt I often used to punish her. “Lie face down on the bed.” I ordered. Meekly, she complied and soon her buttocks were sticking straight up in the air.
I doubled over the belt and began whipping her briskly. Red lines appeared across both cheeks. She cried into the bed. I whipped harder. The belt wrapped around her thighs. She put her hand out to protect her bottom but I slapped it away.
“Naughty little girl – you know you can’t do that! I’m going to spank you ten more times.”
I reached back and let the belt crack against her buttocks. She yelped. Three more in quick succession. She was beside herself in tears. After about 40 good spanks, I stopped. I sat next to her and placed my hand on her flaming red bottom.
Then she whispered: “I hate you, mom!”
I was shocked! I immediately retrieved the belt and began whipping her quite soundly – another 10 times. Then I sat down on the bed again and asked if she was sorry. “No,” she replied through gritted teeth, “I’m not sorry – I hate you!”
I was determined to break this insolent spirit. I began to spank her by hand for about a minute. Then I got up and whipped her 40 more times until her cheeks were a deep purple. I put the belt away in the drawer and when I looked back, she was clutching her heinie. She told me she was sorry, and I said that I forgave her.
Next day, at breakfast, she was fine, albeit not quite able to sit down at the table. Her sister Michelle knew what had happened and began to tease her. I took Michelle by the hand, lifted her skirt and pulled her panties to her ankles. I then grabbed the kitchen spoon and paddled her on her bare bottom.
Incidentally, these punishments worked. I now have a wonderful relationship with my two daughters, both of whom are now grown.