"Worth Doing" - Story Number 7

by Dot Smith

It was that horrible ole summer of '61 when everything went awry. In three short months, Dot gained and lost a friend. According to Maryanne, her family moved to a better house in an even better neighborhood. Though never seen again, Maryanne's brief passage left its indelible mark. By summer's end, the twins and Dot possessed a more adult way of viewing the world, Maryanne's most important legacy. It altered Dot's perspective of her parents' relationship, and through eyes less innocent, she recalled her father's actions. By the time that awful summer finally drew to a close, she came to the painful realization that Fred, her hero, had feet of clay feet.

An important realization gleamed while attempting to prove Maryanne a liar, forced Dot and the twins to reassess Fred's involvement with the widow woman, cause of the most recent rift between her parents. Questions naturally arose about the night of the pick, given the insight gained at Johnson's back window. While they looked in the store's window to validate Maryanne's gossip, the Johnson escapade was really intended to brand Maryanne a liar once and for all. Instead, it proved Maryanne was right and shed light on the meaning of "an illicit affair.". Before the gruesome eye-opening experience at the store's grimy window, the children had more or less forgotten why Ada had charged after Fred with a rusty red handled ice pick. It was Fred's illicit affair! All but forgotten, they recalled the "affair" had put murder in Ada's eyes. But, even gossipy Maryanne no longer discussed Fred's affair. Clear now on what "being illicit" with the widow woman was, the children were not sure all was forgiven, even though Fred was back home.

Ada was not complaining, at least no one heard; she complained without uttering a word. Those who really knew her, though, knew when she was not happy. And, even though Fred was back, firmly nestled in the roost, Ada was not happy. Dot watched and learned under her mother's protective wing. She knew her parent well, and she felt Ada's unhappiness; it was a palatable thing. It lay heavily in the house filling it from unstable foundation to rusty rafters with tension. After the Johnson escapade, Dot felt certain Fred's affair was the real reason her mother was sad. His actions brought more burdens for Ada to bare.

The family existed in abject poverty, despite Fred's best efforts. He slaved away every day at a construction site, and when the construction business was slack, he found his way to the cotton and soybean fields of Arkansas and Mississippi slaving for pennies an hour. Ada worked hard too. From sunrise well into the night, she did everything possible to make life better for her family. With their combined efforts, starvation was held at bay. While she and Fred kept them fed, it was a harsh wretched existence capable of moving the coldest heart to act, to do something to elicit a rare smile, provide a ray of hope, bring a bit of happiness, and in so doing lighten the burden. Dot pitched in and did her best to make Ada happy. Dot loved her mother, and in light of her father's less than wholehearted efforts to please Ada, Dot redoubled hers. And while she worked tirelessly beside her mother, she wrestled with the mental anguish of keeping Fred permanently ensconced on a pedestal, despite his obvious shortcomings. She wanted to blame anyone but Fred for Ada's unhappiness.

Perhaps, it was simply not in the cards; some are fated to be unhappy, she supposed. Could Ada be such a person? She wondered. It could be the responsibility. Maybe, Ada and her brood were simply too great a burden even for Fred's broad shoulders. She wanted to somehow excuse her beloved parents' less than stellar performance at making her mother happy. Could it be that as people they were just too different? Ada wanted Fred to leave other women alone, and maybe that was asking too much, requiring too many changes in Fred's behavior.

She had few answers to the questions her experience at the window raised. But, she reasoned, Fred chose Ada; nobody forced him to marry her. Having made the choice, he was supposed to do the right thing. Dot knew one thing for sure. Fred went into the relationship with his eyes open; he knew Ada had ten children. She could hardly hide them when he came to call, and came calling Fred did, often. Why then was he lifting the widow woman's skirt?

A good-looking man, Fred was a mixture of African, Indian, and white descent. Due to his charming manner, combined with his athletic build, pleasing facial features and honey brown skin, Fred was lucky with women. The combination opened many doors, and helped lift countless skirts. Fred, like Ada, was prolific; he showered the countryside with his seed, and to his credit he claimed responsibility for nine of the fruits his forays yielded. Unlike Ada though, his offsprings did not live with him; they were not his sole responsibility. Fred's children all lived with their respective mothers, mothers who were no doubt struggling like Ada to keep her brood from starving to death.

Having grown up in such a household, Fred knew firsthand a mother's struggle to feed her children; it was the accepted norm. Because Fred's mother and Ada, like so many other black women all across the south, were forced to raise large broods alone. So, Fred knew all about large impoverished families. He knew everything there was to know about being poor. He grew up poor, and he was still as poor as a church mouse when he met Ada and her fatherless brood. Fred knew what it meant to be fatherless, too. His father neither publicly acknowledged, nor privately supported him. Since he looked so much like the man his mother indicated was his father, Fred assumed his mother had fingered the right guy. Like so many others roaming around the south, Fred was a white man's by-blow. He was deeply affected by the man's refusal to even speak to him, let alone embrace him as a son. Influenced greatly by this, Fred would later claim a daughter he did not father. The child's mother named him as the responsible party, and Fred refused to hurt an innocent child.

So, Fred fully understood Ada's dire situation. She reminded him of his poor mother, and he was drawn to her. Ada was strong, outspoken, courageous as hell, and a fine figure of a woman, and she could read, an important asset. As these things drew him to her, he came to feel an overpowering desire to better her situation. And while he courted her, Fred helped around the place as much as possible, repairing things, helping with the crops, cutting wood, etc., whatever he could to please Ada. Yet, the affair probably started out much like his previous encounters with the opposite sex; it was just another of his famous hit and run forays; he was a master at the art of loving and leaving them. Having sowed many wild oats in his lifetime, though, Fred was ready to settle down with a good woman like Ada. So, at the ripe old age of forty-nine, Fred slowed down. Ada and the ten kids caught him.

Without a qualm, Fred relinquished his cherished bachelor-hood. For the love of Ada, he accepted her children as his own and worked tirelessly helping provide for them. Times were hard and they were dirt poor. In fact, Fred's merger with the family brought little more than an extra pair of hands and a set of broad shoulders; he had no material wealth. And, though he had chosen to marry Ada, he occasionally strayed but never severed completely the ties that bound him to Ada and her brood.

He strayed the summer of '61 with the widow woman. It was not the first time; he had strayed before, but it was different this time. This time his small children knew he had strayed and felt betrayed. The worst of that betrayal was the spanking. It happened a few weeks before the start of school, right before Maryanne's family permanently moved. It was the incident that delivered the crushing blow to Dot's fleeting friendship with Maryanne, and nearly unseated Fred from his pedestal.

Before Maryanne entered their lives, Dot divided her limited time between efforts to put a smile to her mother's face, and tomboys' activities with her twin brothers. She assisted her mother in cleaning the house, cooking, washing, keeping the yard debris free, tending the garden, and, she was very studious and made good grades. In general, Dot did whatever necessary, everything that could be done by a bright ten years old. She undertook every endeavor hoping it would make her mother happy. What was left of her time was spent wholeheartedly pitting her mental and physical prowess against her younger brothers'. She enjoyed besting them at their favorite activities. She was the classic tomboy. She shot marbles, played stick ball, basketball, football, climbed trees, etc. If the boys did it, so did she, only better.

With Maryanne's arrival, Dot spent less time pursuing activities to make her mother happy. Instead, she listened to Maryanne's lies, and played her girlish games. Maryanne was a novelty. She was Dot's first female friend; precious time was spent cultivating the relationship. With Maryanne, Dot bonded for the first time with a girl near her own age. Finally, she forged the type of friendship she longed for but had never experienced. Despite the mere twenty-two months separating them, she and her older sister, Erma, were not friends. Erma was often hostile toward her younger siblings; she delighted in dismissing Dot's overtures at real friendship. So, while much of what Maryanne said was routinely discounted until proven true, Dot welcomed her friendship. Maryanne was entertaining, and, unlike Erma, she openly shared everybody's secrets. But most important, the adventures her foolishness provided opened mental doors for Dot, and introduced the larger physical world beyond the narrow confines of her family and their small ghetto. More of that veil of innocence covering her youthful countenance gradually peeled away. Dot began questioning things routinely accepted before. One of those was the spanking.

There was nothing unusual about spankings. They were common occurrences in Ada's household. Spanking was the preferred disciplining tool, and in light of the family's size, disciplining was ofttimes a monumental undertaking. The children, singularly or en masse, were capable of creating mayhem and murder. Ada's hands were full trying to raise her brood when Fred joined the family in '49. Over the first few years of their marriage, there was anywhere from the original ten to thirteen or more children in the house. The number present often included Ada's grandchildren. A week did not go by that somebody did not break some rule or something and was spanked; there were just so many of them begging to be disciplined and so many rules to be broken. As the children left home, reducing the total number living under Fred and Ada's roof, the frequency of corporal punishment diminished proportionately. By the summer of '61, spankings had become rare. The youngest of the lot, the twins, Rob and Ray, were eight that year, and Dot was ten. They learned well by example and were very obedient kids.

But, the spanking ritual was alive and well. It was common knowledge among its practitioners that there were degrees of spanking. The punishment's severity depended on the infraction. Severe infractions called for the infamous ironing cord, an instrument guaranteed to leave marks for a week or more as some painful reminders of the transgression. Minor infractions required little more than a tree limb, known as a switch. These biting branches, both large and small ones, left welts, too. But most important, Ada administered all spankings.

By the summer of '61, none of the children living at home knew about any Fred spankings. These days, Fred acted deaf, dumb and blind at punishment time. Alone, Ada grappled with the children. She enforced her rules and brought discipline to her overcrowded house. For order, Fred relied heavily on his male presence. Fred was a big man and he commanded a certain amount of reverence and respect. Though never expressed, there was a consensus among the children that they were fortunate to have Mr. Freddy, the name his stepchildren called him. They did not want to do anything to run him away; they certainly did not want to make him mad.

While still sharecropping in Mississippi, long before the summer of '61, Fred raised his hands to the children on only a couple of occasions. The two episodes occurred early in the marriage; they were an integral part of Fred's struggle to win Ada's heart and become man of the house. These were necessary battles in his war to woo Ada. In giving her his ring, Fred assumed responsibility for her many offspring. The enormity of Fred's commitment was enough to dissuade the staunchest suitor. And even though some of those children were nearly grown and more than a little resentful of his presence, he accepted the challenge. He trod carefully around the ghost of previous fathers, the tenuous relationships that already existed between Ada and her sons and daughters, and forged a kind of peaceful coexistence with Ada and her children.

Fortunately, the times requiring him to resort to corporal punishment were few. Unfortunately, those few times created rifts in his fragile relationship with, not only the children immediately involved, but Ada and the other children, as well. Whatever was done to one impacted the entire group. His useless attempts to beat some sense into nearly grown men, his stepsons, soured Fred on corporal punishment. He reluctantly entered the last spanking, already in progress, because Ada needed help in a losing battle to bring one of her big boys in line. So, to rescue her, he reluctantly and ill-advisedly waded in. He knew and had told Ada that she was killing herself and wasting her time trying to reform grown men with an ironing cord, but she refused to listen.

So, Fred washed his hands of the business, because nothing he did pleased her. He had come to her rescue in the last spanking episode, but it ended with her mad as a hatter at him. He had no idea what went wrong or what the woman wanted. For him, spanking was a case of damned if you do and damned if you don't, because, not a few times after a spanking, Ada gave him one of those speaking volumes' looks. He wasn't sure whether she felt he should do the spanking or be on the receiving end of one. Fred knew well that she would not be satisfied; she was going to be mad at him no matter what he did. He never seemed to get it right. If he stayed out of it, she got mad. And, whenever he intervened, she got even madder. There was no pleasing the woman. So, unless specifically invited, that is, one of the boys was hurting her, Fred left all the spanking to Ada.

Being obsessed with doing things well, and well versed in the art of spanking, Ada did a thorough job. She was known to say, "If it's worth doing, it's worth doing well." It was the accepted philosophy in Ada's house, though not especially practiced by all its inhabitants. Spankings were included in Ada's duties, so whenever one was spanked, the recipient felt well done. Spankings and an angry Ada were synonymous. Every effort was expended to avoid ruffling her feathers. Since Fred never spanked, he was not considered a threat. If Ada was cool, everything was cool. Though, she received her fair share of spankings for varied and sundry reasons, Fred had never spanked her.

This too changed the summer of '61. Maryanne was there the night it happened. It was the night Dot received the worst spanking of her life, a beating from Fred. An unwitting witness, Maryanne's presence made the spanking even worse, because she witnessed Dot's shame and humiliation. Their struggling friendship suffered a serious setback, as Maryanne's presence became a painful reminder of that night. That spanking changed their friendship, and forever changed how Dot saw her father, further tarnishing Fred's heroic image.

Ada and Fred entered into some kind of truce following the night of the pick. On the surface, things settled back to normal; Fred was back home. But, Dot knew all was not well. Beneath the surface calm, a fierce battle for something was being fought. With her newly acquired insight, courtesy of spying on Mr. Johnson, Dot watched her parents. She knew Fred's illicit affair with the widow woman hurt Ada. As her mother's best little helper, always underfoot, she could hear the discontentment and unhappiness lacing her mother's voice. So, while the exact nature of their silent struggle was unknown, Dot felt certain Fred was wrong; yet, there was no punishment for his transgression. Ada did not spank him, and the children couldn't. They were not allowed to spank grownups.

All that awful summer, it never failed that the worst possible things happened on Friday, the day Fred got paid. It was another of those memorable evenings. Since the Friday night Ada took the ice pick for a stroll looking for Fred, he stayed home, rather than bathing, dressing and going out. As was his Friday night custom, he had a shot of whiskey or two at the house. Ada did not drink and refused to share his pastime. She avoided liquor and drunks religiously, because her first husband was an abusive alcoholic. But, she never begrudged Fred his drink. He controlled his intake. And though they argued, he never raised a hand to her, or the children. On this particular Friday night, everybody knew something was not right. Ada and Fred were feuding. The tension in the house was thick. Everybody was acting all stiff and careful as though walking on eggshells. Such a fragile foundation, something was bound to break.

Escaping the house immediately following dinner, the kids welcomed the reprieve from the tension. It was early evening and the children were busy at play when Fred called Dot. She ran into the house in answer to his summons. He wanted her to go to the store to purchase a couple of items. A five-pound bag of sugar was on the short list. Dot hurried to the store, accompanied by Maryanne, who was over visiting, as usual. The girls were eager to return home to resume their games. This evening they were playing Simon Said, and intended to play hide and seek later. Maryanne also brought over a couple of her dolls and a tea service. They had purchased cookies and a soft drink earlier using their combined weekly allowances. As soon as this unexpected chore was completed, they fully intended to resume playing, and finishing up the treats.

So, Dot rushed home and haphazardly stored the items purchased. It was haphazard because normally sugar was stored in a container. However, this night she was anxious to get back to Maryanne and the games they were playing. In her haste, she placed the bag of sugar in the cabinet beside its container. The cabinet door slammed, followed closely by the back screen door as she again escaped from the house. Not a peep could be heard from Ada and Fred; theirs was a wordless fight. Apparently everything to be said had been said, and they were just being mad.

She rushed to the house and through the back door, its screen slamming in her wake. She skidded to a halt, inches from barreling into Fred's chest. Apparently he had been standing at the back door watching and waiting for her to respond to his summons.

"Yes daddy?" she innocently asked, never suspecting anything was amiss.

Fred had a scowl on his face, not a good sign under the best of circumstances, and even worse now that he and Ada were fighting. Ada stood in the doorway leading to the middle room hands on her hips watching. She said nothing.

"What do you do with sugar when you bring it in this house from the store?" Fred asked out of the blue.

Caught off guard, completely throw by the question, the child responded, "I put it away," thinking he had failed to see the bag of sugar she put away. "Here it is," she said reaching in the cabinet and extracting the item in question.

Fred snatched the sugar from her loose grasp. His scowl became fiercer. "I know it's there, but where is it supposed to be?" he asked in a really hard mean sounding voice.

It dawned on the child he was referring to the sugar container. She reached into the cabinet and removed the empty tin and placed it on the table. She tried to take the bag, but Fred firmly closed his big hand around the sugar. In response to her puzzled expression he asked, "Why didn't you put it up like you was supposed to?"

With each harshly posed question, the conversation became stranger. It was strange because the kitchen was not Fred's domain. Normally, as long as his meals were timely prepared and the place was clean, he could care less about what went on in the kitchen. Ada ran the kitchen. If something was wrong in it, Ada handled it. Yet, Ada continued to say nothing.

Ashamed for causing a problem, she bowed her head unable to continue looking at his displeased face. "I'm sorry daddy. I won't do it again," she promised, once more reaching for the bag of sugar.

Normally, such a show of humility was enough to pacify Fred; it was such a minor omission. But something more was going on. There was certainly more than a bag of sugar not emptied into its container at issue. Because Fred refused to be mollified, when she reached for the sugar again, he held it beyond her grasp. Instead of giving her the sugar, Fred grabbed her by the collar of her threadbare summer shirt. A seam burst as he roughly pulled her closer.

Briefly, she was reminded of the crazed cock, the one killed in her defense so many years before. That fearsome fowl had been bent on doing her harm. But, with a single twist of his powerful wrist, Fred broke that bad bird's neck. Now, she found herself uncomfortably stretched on tiptoes with Fred's large hand precariously close to her neck. As Fred spoke directly into her small face, alarm bells sounded in her ears and fear snaked its way down her spine.

He angrily said, "If it's worth doing, it's worth doing right."

Now there was nothing new about that phrase. They had all heard it countless times. After all, it was Ada's credo, but Fred was not known for espousing it. At least, Dot had never heard him utter the words, and his actions of late had been less that exemplary. Clearly Fred was being unreasonable; her minor infraction did not warrant his anger. Besides, she could make it right, if he would only give her the sugar.

"I'll put the sugar away daddy," she said, her voice trembling with fear. She reached for the bag again wanting desperately to please her angry parent, before he unduly influenced Ada.

But he was not satisfied; nothing short of beating someone would placate him. Dot became the unwitting victim of his anger. By the time she realized she was to be punished for such a minor infraction, Fred had put the sugar down and was looking for something to spank her with.

Fred never whipped anyone. He was unprepared for the undertaking. As though seeking her assistance to aid in the course he had set, Fred looked at Ada. She said absolutely nothing to encourage or sway him from his course. Ada usually kept a switch handy or made the person being punished provide a limb from one of the peach trees or the fig tree out back, but she neither said nor did anything. She just stood there leaning against the doorjamb, arms folded across her ample chest, saying nothing. With no help coming from Ada, Fred unbuckled his belt and pulled the long leather strap from his pants' loops. Dot tried to pull away loosening his grip on her collar, but she was unable to release herself. He grabbed one of her slender arms and held her in place as he folded the belt and secured one end and the buckle in his large powerful hand.

Tears welled in the child's eyes well before the belt made its initial contact against her tender flesh. They freely flowed, but she never uttered a word or cried out in protest. She took her beating like a real trooper, despite the flow of "sissy tears" she was unable to stem. Throughout, Fred could be heard reiterating the need to get it right the first time, and on and on. The ceaseless prattle that accompanied every spanking could be heard coming from the unlikely source of Fred. And, despite his long absence from spanking, one knew he was sincere; he did it well. When it was over, Dot knew Fred had finally lived up to Ada's credo. She staggered from the house in a painful daze, still, not sure what had happened.

All the other hide-go-seekers were crowded around the back door. The twins stood the farthest away from the action, probably silently praying Fred did not find something to beat them for in his obvious anger with Ada. Because Dot was his favorite and had gotten it, they knew they stood a better than fifty-fifty change of being called on the carpet next for some minor infraction. So, they quietly watched Dot sniffle and wipe away her tears. Only Maryanne and Erma dared to pry as they ostensibly came to the distraught child's aid.

Far too embarrassed to discuss the incident, Dot remained as mute as her mother had throughout the ordeal. She abhorred the fact that Maryanne had witnessed the spanking, providing the gossipmonger more fodder for her rumor mill. Dot assumed that because Maryanne talked about others behind their backs, she probably talked about them behind their backs too. Dot certainly did not want to give her more ammo. She already knew about Fred and the widow woman. Now, she knew about the beating, too. She dismissed Erma's concern; she knew it was only a pretense. The smug look on her sister's face suggested she could scarcely contain her glee; she delighted in Dot's downfall.

Dot's silence failed to prevent Erma and Maryanne from discussing the incident. Like her, they too were genuinely puzzled about the nature of the punishment, given the minor infraction. Unable to control the flow of "sissy tears" that seeped from her eyes, Dot listened while the girls commiserated. They lambasted Fred for his unjustified attack, and, for a while, her pain eased as she languished in their harsh criticisms. She thanked the powers that be someone was on her side. They agreed; Fred was wrong. Her solace in their cutting comments was brief. Nothing could relieve the pain and frustration of a parent's betrayal, not even the harsh criticism, which found a target in her receptive ears. True or not, subconsciously, she resented what they said about her daddy. She knew he was less than perfect; she had grappled with the evidence of his imperfections all summer. But, he was the only daddy she had, and she loved him.

Over and over again, scenes from the spanking played themselves out. She kept seeing her mother standing in the doorway saying nothing, while Fred welded that wicked belt. She could still hear his righteous proclamation, extolling the benefits of doing it right, and looking at Ada as though seeking confirmation. Yet, despite the irony of the statement coming from Fred, she had several welts on her legs, affirmation that Fred held Ada's credo. He spanked well, though the spanking did not speak well of him. After all, it was utter hypocrisy to beat her when he was angry with her mother. So, while the welts hurt, she was more hurt that he would do such a thing.

But in the end though, maybe Dot finally accomplished her summer's most important mission, she unburdened Ada, and saved her mother some pain. If Fred's spanking prowess impressed Ada, Dot never knew. But, as tensions eased, Dot felt that somehow that awful spanking changed things between her parents. Maybe in some small way the worst beating of her life helped save their struggling relationship. Fred received the Dot silent treatment for a while, but anger cannot hold love at bay forever. So, she forgave her father. And, with feet of clay, Fred remained firmly anchored to his pedestal.