I Hope You Learned Your Lesson

There are so many things that my parents and grandparents used to say to us as children. Looking back as an adult, I can now laugh about many of them. "Don't make me pull this car over." "Well, you should have thought about that before you did it." "If you don't stop that right now I'll really give you something to cry about." OK, maybe that last one still isn't funny.

Parenting styles have certainly changed over the 64 years I've been alive. Since I already have to see far too many of the "When I was growing up..." memes and comments by people of my generation on social media meant to somehow criticize the parents of today, I won't even go there.

Yesterday afternoon I drove to Home Depot to pick up some bags of mulch when, out of nowhere, I thought about an incident from my childhood (that frankly had nothing to do with lumber, hardware, or mulch.) I have no idea how or why it popped into my head. But it did.

My parents got divorced when I was very young and my mom, my older brother, younger sister, and I eventually moved in with my grandmother. Her name was Gertrude but we simply called her Gram. She was the most influential adult in my life until she passed away in 1985. I adored her and the very idea that I would ever disappoint her hurt far more than any spanking I ever received from her (and I received my share... she was old school when it came to discipline.)

1960s Central Square Keene, NH

The New Hampshire town where I grew up was a small city and, in the late 1950's and early 1960's, most kids I knew were pretty much free range kids endlessly playing outside and riding our bikes. There was an understood territory beyond which I wasn't supposed to wander. No particular reason other than to keep us from getting too far from the house. That being the case, most of my closest play friends lived within about a half mile radius from our house.

My best friend's name was Ronnie and he lived on the street behind ours; the same cul-de-sac type street (we just called it a dead end) as the Batchelor family. The Batchelors had a son who was my older brother's age and a daughter named Jane... we all called her Janie. I'm not really sure how old Janie was at the time. I guess I always thought she was about the same age as we were since she played outside with us just about every day. But, reflecting years later, I'm sure that Janie may have actually been a young adult at the time. She was bigger than the rest of us, wore very thick glasses, always wore a dress and "street shoes," and, when outside, she always seemed to be riding her adult-sized tricycle. We knew that Janie was what we now describe as intellectually disabled. From my earliest recollection, my grandmother told us in no uncertain terms that we were to play with her and treat her kindly and to never make fun of her. But, Janie could get very bossy and would sometimes say some strange things with a voice that sounded different and not as clear as ours.

One day, I got so frustrated with Janie that I said something to her that was just mean and hurtful and she started crying and went inside her house. I'm not exactly sure how my grandmother found out about it, but she found out that very same day.

I had never seen my grandmother so angry. I had broken a cardinal rule of behavior that I knew better than to ever do. I don't really remember if there was any corporal punishment involved. What I do remember though (aside from her initial anger) was the look and posture of complete disappointment that she displayed when she confronted me. She proceeded to give me a lecture about what I had done and how terribly wrong it was. The more she talked, the more my heart was pierced with shame and guilt. I cried myself to sleep that night and, early the next day, I promptly went over to Janie's house (she was outside on her bike) and I apologized to her which made me cry again. And I remember the only thing Janie said was "don't ever do that again." And from then on we continued to be friends playing in the street until we moved away a few years later.

Another thing our parents and grandparents would say after we did something wrong like touching a hot stove or some other dumb kid thing was... "I hope you learned your lesson." That day, on a street named Boston Place, in Keene, NH, I learned a lesson that I have never forgotten.