Well, I sure as hell got beat alot. I thought it was all normal until way into adulthood. We had such a sterile family life that consisted of a vocabulary entirely from the WT publications. It all seems so unreal now.
My father would beat one of my older brothers and I'd be running around the back yard yelling wanting to do something about it.... at 5 years old. Then, my brothers would take it out on me by doing something mean. Only, I didn't get it.... I'd just laugh hysterically even if it hurt a little too much. I thought it was a joke. Then, I 'd go the K.H. and jokingly trip some kid, to continue the joke. Once I did this to the P.O. son. I got the crap beat out of me for that on the hall porch. It took years to figure out that the joke was only funny when I was being hurt.
Once I turned about 7 the beatings really started coming more frequently. I remember getting beat and my father screaming "God hates Liars". Well, after that I sure as hell wouldn't tell my father anything I'd done wrong. At least I had a good shot at avoiding a beating if I could lie good. I became an expert at it.
Mom beat me too. Either she didn't realize the extra underwear or admired my ingenuity, because she always let me go to my room to "get the belt".... I
conveniently kept extra shorts and underware and shorts that I could quickly slip on under my jeans. Mom, never really hurt me though.
Another time, I didn't make it to my seat in time when the convention program started. Mom had told me to be back when it started. So, Dad went looking for me. He found me and the Ex-Circuit Overseers son "walking like and egyptian" in the halls. The Bangles song "Walk like an Egyptian" was popular at the time. I got literally pulled by the ears back to my seat. I was about 12.
When we got home we had a family discussion that ended with my Dad demanding that my Mother beat me since it was she that I disobeyed. (I really wasn't that late) She refused to. I listened to them argue for several minutes about who was going to beat me. My mother was in tears. Finally, he pulled rank and threatened to whip mom if she didn't whip me. (Dad never hit mom, ever) In tears she started whipping me the whole time complaining while my father watched. He kept telling her that she wasn't doing it hard enough. While being beat, I protested that it did too hurt. (It really did) In desperation, Dad showed his spiritual qualifications and took the belt from her and said, "here's how you do it". Then he really went to town. I got beat twice that day for walking like an egyptian and embarrasing a man with no sense of humor at his religious convention.
In the sixth grade, I was dressing out for gym, when the coach saw dozens of belt welps criss crossing my back. Dad ALWAYS whipped me on the back. He silently walked up to me and examined my wounds. The only thing he said was, "you want me to report this?" I said, "definitely not. It was my fault anyway." I remember acting starnge the next few days because this was the first time I got an inkling that something was wrong. I thought all kids got beat up till then.
There is a lot I don' t remember very well. As an adult and in counseling, I asked my aunt how she thought I was treated as a child. She said my father was very harsh with me. As an example she said that when I was really little, I slammed a door acidentially at Grandmas house. Dad caught me on the run and slammed my head into a wall in front of everyone. She said it really pissed Grandpa off. I don't remember it at all. Maybe I was too little. Maybe I just laughed it off like I always learned to do.
The whippings stopped about age 14 or early 15. But, he found other ways to "punish me".
Dad has always been in good standing as a M.S. and always refused reccomendations for eldership. He said he couldn't stand to hear the dirt about other people. He is viewed as an exemplary christian by thousands of people after 50 years in the truth to this day.
I just looked at how much I wrote and am shocked. Didn't mean to ramble.