When I was five, the center of my life was my red scooter. We lived in the Bronx on Jerome Avenue, and I could scoot up and down the avenue at high speeds. My world centered on my parents, the scooter, and the cartoon show, which featured a small boy ( Beany), a seasick sea monster( Cecil) and a the boat (the Leaking Lena). I was set and determined to break all scooter speed records on Jerome Avenue, watch all episodes of the cartoon and have as many jelly and cream cheese sandwiches as possible. These things formed the hub of my life, which was simple.
Then, at six, I was unceremoniously shoved into parochial school. In that school, I learned that Beany, Cecil, and the Leaking Lena were of secondary importance to doing whatever Sister Marguerite De Sade and her fellow Sisters of Perpetual Pain decreed. Let the Beatings Commence.
Eventually, I fought back. You couldn’t see beneath the penguin outfit, but the “good” sisters sported some ferocious bruises delivered by my kicks.
Finally, for the first, but not the last time in my life, I was called incorrigible. My father was called in. By second grade I had a “rep” – “hit him. but keep clear of his hands feet, and teeth, he fights back. ”
They had to send for the Brother. That A-hole wished he’d never seen me. After our session, he remarked to the good Sisters, “He’s all yours!” and was never seen in those parts again.
By the end of the second grade my parents had had it with the complaints. Not only was I incorrigible, could not be disciplined,was rude, and clearly could not absorb religious training from the Sisters or Brothers. Although it wasn’t popular culture yet, they assumed that I’d become a motorcycle Marlon Brando type – Born to Be Wild.
The family remains mum on whether or not it was my first expulsion from school (Hey, I got a bad rap at High School!) or if my father was sick and tired of going to visit sister Marguerite De Sade ( I know I was). but anywise we soon moved elsewhere and I was enrolled in a public school for third grade.
In third grade, two things set a new course for my life. First, I was put in the sainted Mrs. Kresge’s class, and second, I discovered the local public library. A lifelong love of reading and books developed.
Now, my time with Sister Marguerite De Sade and the Sisters of Perpetual Pain was not entirely wasted. It toughened me up for the schoolyard fights. Pain? Shit! You don’t know pain until a crazed nun with yardstick and a passion for bloody knuckles comes after you. Nah, those sissy kids had nothing on us veterans of the nuns.
In retrospect, I guess I kinda owe sister Marguerite a vote of thanks. If it hadn’t a been for her and her crazed minions I might never have become the Pius Itinerant, raconteur, and Bon Vivant that I became.
Should I send her a thank you note? Nah…she’d take it as a sign of weakness.
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Solidarity, bro! 💪
Hilarious illustration at the top – especially the one with vampire teeth. The word incorrigible always makes me think of the movie the Sound of Music. When the children are introducing themselves to their new governness. “I’m Kurt. I’m 11. I’m incorrigible.” Later he asks Maria what incorrigible means. “I think it means you want to be treated like a boy.” ha ha. You can tell poor Kurt has been told more than once that he is incorrigible.
Ah, corporal punishment (anywhere in life): The best way to teach kids how to lie better. My mom wielded a mean yardstick in my latter years with her — I once literally bore the imprint of numbers, lines, and the crack at the hole on the top of the yardstick on my shoulder. Surprising how much a slat of wood hurts — I darned near flinched!
My father was a believer in the flat of the hand.
Being that I was young and skinny, he paid for my Judo lessons, thinking it would teach me how to defend myself. He was right. I took him and threw him across the room one day. After that, he discussed things with me.
That happens — and rightly so, Lou.
Are you my long-lost sibling?
Sometimes It feels that way! In a very good sense.
My mom believed in random, irrelevant, unmerited corporal punishment. She slapped me good the time my brother broke a bottle of Jade East in the bathroom sink. My bro objected, “Why did you slap Martha Ann? She didn’t do it.” My mom answered, “That’s beside the point.” It was a violent household. People talk about being reunited with your family in the afterlife? OK, but I want to pick the ones I’m reunited with. I’m NOT picking the ones who slapped me. Your illustration looks like the nuns from KISS
I think the AI did a good job on the Sisters of Perpetual Pain. It’s pretty much how I saw them.
With regard to your mom, I’ve heard of parents who picked one kid to heap it on, right or wrong. And If other adults are in the family and allow it to happen, I think that they are just as guilty of abuse as the one doing the hitting.
My dad couldn’t do anything. He would have, but he wasn’t physically able.
I was very behaved with the Sisters, but I clearly remember the boys in class, they were a handful. I loved watching Beany and Cecil, I even wore my hat with the thing that spins on top
Good times watching Beany and Cecil.