The Only Time My Father Ever Whipped Me

THE ONLY TIME MY FATHER EVER WHIPPED ME WAS: Because I did not want to be in a picture being taken of relatives in our frontyard, but why? After having thought about this recently, I am now 99.9% sure of why. My maternal grandfather died August 2, 1934. Relatives from WVA came and stayed at our house. They had a son, about age 12, (I was age 7) that had a severe hairlip. I had never seen such before. He wanted to be nice and play with me but he scared the living daylights out of me--I was terrified. I would run and hide to keep out of his sight. (I never told anyone why I did this then or later). I recall, too, that same day I had escaped to the shop building and my brother, seven years older, found me and said, "Come on, Fred, it's time for dinner (lunch)" I understand later this cousin had his lip repaired, earned a college degree in chemistry and worked for years for that big chemical company that is not so popular in the news right now. He, his wife and son are no longer living. As I grew older, I became less frightened of the unknown...guess that's just part of growing up. (PS: The next time there was a picture to be taken guess what: I was the first in line. One whipping lasted a lifetime).