Living On a Leash

Baby Strait JacketIt seems I went from one controlled contraption, the baby strait jacket, to another one, a little dog harness. My mother, who usually was not known for her athletic abilities, could whip me around in that harness going about sixty miles an hour, until I’m sure I suffered from whiplash.

I think I left the ground and was airborne on several occasions. To this day when I bend my neck a certain way, the pain that I feel takes me right back to being whipped around like a monkey on a leash.

This helps to explain my own fear of ropes, leashes, and turtlenecks. Nothing too close to the neck or where I can be controlled by one quick flick of the wrist.

It seems that this kind of parental behavior would necessitate a phone call to child protective services today. However; fortunately for my mother, times were different and though other parents may have questioned her techniques, they were not willing to get involved. Some may have admired her. No doubt some were afraid or found her behavior entertaining. They all knew she was certainly a force to be reckoned with.

I tried hard to steer clear of her on a daily basis. I knew the more out of sight I was, then out of her mind. Truer words have never been spoken: as we learned later in life, she truly was out of her mind! I would take off for hiding places early in the day, trying hard to get far enough away so I could not hear her screeching my name at the top of her lungs.

The woman knew how to yell and bellow and could have been a slow talking auctioneer with no need for a microphone.

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