Jim had girls. Five in all: Debbie, Patty, Tracey, Barbara (that's me), and Laura. The older four happened quickly -- only 3-1/2 years separate Debbie and me; Laura was born a couple of years later. It was a cruel trick played on him by the universe. He didn't know what to do with us, he didn't know how to discipline us, and he sure as hell didn't know how to relate to us.
He did his best to avoid having to discipline us when we were young. He wouldn't hit us because we were girls. Jim had only one rule, no crying - ever! If you did something, you took your punishment like a man. Even if you were a five-year-old girl.
I'm sure it was quite a sight. Jim was not a small man. Physically he wasn't incredibly tall but he was broad, and big, and damn, could he holler! Thunderous. His voice could peel paint. And when directed at you, you had to stand there and take it - like a man; a five-year-old-girl-man. There was no bending down to your level for a conversation and a gentle readjust. There was just Jim. Getting louder, and redder, and madder.
The four who weren't in trouble would close ranks on the condemned sister. She would be out in front. Alone. Chin up. Looking straight ahead. Taking it like a man; a five-year-old girl-man. The remaining four would stand directly behind, two on each side. Chin up, looking straight ahead, crying like only little girls can. Heaving, snotty, sobbing, silent crying. Four little girls, protecting one of their own.
It didn't take long for the crying to have the desired result. Jim giving up with a "Jesus Christ, Mul" (to my mom), you discipline them, I can't take all the damn crying.
There were instances when we all got in trouble at the same time. They didn't happen often but they did happen. The most memorable of these had five little girls lined up, shoulder-to-shoulder, chins up, looking straight ahead. Taking it like men; five little-girl-men. Luckily for us, just as Jim was really winding up his tirade - bellowing and sputtering - it happened! His top teeth shot out of his head and dropped - plop - on the floor between us. Much to his credit, he leaned over, picked his teeth up, and walked away. What little was left of his dignity preserved in that small action. And the sisters, well we had the grace to wait until he was out of ear shot to fall, laughing, to the floor.
I'd like to say that Jim met his match in those 5 little girls, but he hadn't. That would have to wait a few more years. I was a teenager then; Jim's bellowing didn't bother me. If he wanted my attention, he grounded me and took away my phone privledges. That's how you punish a teenage girl that likes to talk!
Sisters, you know who I'm talking about - a sassy, foul-mouthed brunette (no, not you Patrice). So, shhh, don't spoil it for the others.
To read about the mystery brunette, click here.
That's too funny. My Dad would holler until he was red in the face, but Mom did most of the discipline, b/c we knew if Dad did any of it, we were in big trouble.
ReplyDeleteHahaha, Dad's bark was way worse than his bite.
ReplyDeleteBravo! very good i am picturing the teeth flying out of his mouth he must have laughed at that later! too hysterical!!!
ReplyDeletei want to know about the foul mouthed brunette also if it wasn't me then who?
ReplyDeleteYou paint the most amazing pictures with your words. It sounds like your dad, despite the denture fiasco, loved his daughters like crazy. What a great way to grow up!
ReplyDeletePatrice, he laughed about everything, later. And you'll find out in a couple of days who the brunette is...
ReplyDeleteCindy, thanks! He did love us, he just didn't understand us. It was an interesting life, that's for sure!
Haha, I LOVE hearing this story!!! Lol it never gets old to me! Lol but who could be the sassy, foul mouthed brunette?? Lol
ReplyDeleteOur father yelled, at us??? No our father yelled at you girls. I was the oldest I didn't get in trouble. I was the original "Charlie" I did nothing wrong... lol. But seriously, he was loud, he did yell AND whistle... the dogs cried when he whistled. The neighborhood cried when he yelled. We cried too, but only until he left the room, then we did the victory dance. But he did love us. Unless he was coming upto the bedroom floor!! OOOHHH shit were we in trouble!
ReplyDeleteHow I miss the sassy brunette!
I remember so many times his dentures got in, or out of, the way. But the best was when he caught us all jumping on my bed....and he was yelling and he sat on the end of the bed and it broke...we laughed right at him then....He was practically purple....and I had to sleep on a matress on the floor for ever!!!!
ReplyDeleteHahaha, I remember that! Love that story.
ReplyDelete