The Belt
The Belt
“Wait till your father gets home” was probably the most feared six words my mother could utter. We knew exactly what she meant...it seemed that there was always something that would get us intro trouble, and rather than discipline us herself...she would have the enforcer dish out our just punishment. We knew that dad would walk in the door about the same time that Huntley and Brinkley would appear on the TV, and then it was “hell” to pay.
I mean how bad was it that we would try to be helpful and wash hardwood floors with soap and water? Also, why was mom upset that we broke off tree twigs and “planted” hundreds of plugs all over the lawn? And what’s the big deal of taking our rubber cars and leaving tire tracks across the entire upstairs floor? Or for that matter, just being a little louder than normal. I mean...just what was the big deal?
Now it was just a waiting game.
Soon the news on our black and white TV would appear, and sure enough there was Huntley and Brinkley...darn, they never took a day off. In would walk dad, and when no one would run up to greet him...he would say, “what’s wrong?”
“Terry was bad today”, mom would explain, and then she would proceed to tell dad what dastardly deeds I did to warrant his “wrath”. He would look at me, while taking off his belt, “this will hurt me more than it will hurt you.”
“You don’t have to hurt yourself,” I would rationalize.
But that never worked. I would get my spanking and wait for another day when I would most certainly see that black belt again.
I remember one Sunday when we were at Mass, and like a typical Smith child, it became more difficult to just sit in the pew being “good”. I decided that it was time to have a little fun, even though the priest was trying hard to ignore my restless state. I’m sure that mom and dad were persuading me to stay put, but c’mon - I was just having fun. Lets face it...they couldn’t yell at me...they were in church, and they had to show they were model Christian parents.
After Mass was done, we went quietly to the car. I remember dad’s words, “wait till we get home”...”you were bad in church”...and somewhere in this mix of chatter I heard the word “belt”. I knew what that meant. I couldn’t concentrate anymore - my head was overflowing with a vision of this big black belt and the pain I was about to experience.
Next thing I know the car had stopped. I looked out the window and saw that we were home, and without thinking I dashed out the car and headed into the house. I didn’t know where I would go, but something told me to hide underneath Mom and Dad’s bed.
Now, I would wait again.
I heard dad saying, “where is Terry?” No one knew, but the search continued throughout the house. Upstairs...downstairs...then outside...then upstairs again. But they couldn’t find me – I found the perfect place to hide. Mom finally decided to make breakfast, which was one of the big events of the weekend. Even though I loved her breakfast, I couldn’t leave the safety of my cave. Finally after breakfast, dad gave up and yelled, “If you come out I won’t spank you.” I didn’t believe him, so I stayed put. I would stay under the bed for the rest of my life, if I had to.
Well, there is always one person in the family who loves to “rat” you out. And in our family that rat was V.J. He just wouldn’t quit searching, and finally he found me...and instead of being the loyal brother who would keep my secret, he screamed out, “I found him!” He started to pull my leg, but I continued to resist leaving my newly found hiding place.
I think I would be there even today if dad had not convinced me to leave. Luckily he kept his word, and subsequently I did not feel the leather of his hideous size-50 belt.
Story by Terry Smith