Brenda Ruth Richards

When I was a young kid, there must have been moments when I frustrated and made Mom mad. The funny thing is I don’t ever remember any raised voice, any pain from a spanking or even having been sent to my room. I certainly was not a perfect child, so no doubt such guidance was required from time to time. I do remember there was one of those dime store paddles, the ones we bought as kids that had a ball attached with a rubber band. We had a lot of fun playing paddle ball, but when the rubber band finally broke, these toys of joy could suddenly turn against us. They became recycled into a formidable paddle board for use on our backsides...or at least that is what we thought. Our paddle was kept up on top of the refrigerator, out of reach, and served as a reminder of what at least could happen. Maybe Mom already knew that its mere presence would be enough, as I don’t recall it ever hitting by rear end like I probably deserved. Usually, just the glint in her eyes and a few kind but clear words of guidance was sufficient. If that paddle ever did make contact, the pangs of pain were far too faint to be etched into memory. I guess what determines if a little spanking, or even just the thought of it, is a good thing is if it teaches a lesson in behavior and you don’t remember anything bad about the punishment. I am still learning from my mom and the wisdom of her over nine decades on this earth and her love and lessons continue to guide me every day.

I love you mom.