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Something to Cry About - Story #11 of 52


Do you remember being told to “stop crying or I’ll give you something to cry about”? If you’re a baby-boomer I know you probably heard that - a lot. As a child, I couldn’t wrap my head around that rationale. If I was crying, it was generally for a reason - usually because my feelings had been hurt or I’d injured myself - so it baffled me that I would need to be given another reason to cry. But we kids knew, when those words were thrown out at us, to shut off the tears or a spanking would likely follow. Unlike today, our feelings weren’t considered important in the bigger scheme of things. We were kids and were expected to be seen and not heard, to obediently do what we were told and not complain. We were to eat everything on our plates or could sit there until it was all gone. Didn’t we know there were children starving in Africa? Again, that rationale escaped me. We were nowhere near Africa and liver was something I detested (and I imagine African kids did too) but, I discovered, if I covered it in enough ketchup I could choke it down and do those starving kids a favour. I recall a time when I was told to “shut my mouth and eat” and, before I could stop myself I blurted out, “But how can I put the food in if my mouth is shut?” Whoa. That was not a smart thing to say! I thought adults were completely unreasonable, saying things like that, and also things like “because I said so”. Talk about living with dictators!

I don’t ever remember being asked what I wanted in my school lunch before I was old enough to pack it myself. We got what we got and if we didn’t like it we sure didn’t bring it home with us or we’d get it repackaged the next day. We didn’t get to choose brand-name clothes either, no matter how much we whined. Usually, the Salvation Army was where we did our shopping and, if we were fortunate enough to go to a real store, the sale racks were the only place we were allowed to look. Once I started earning my own money, by babysitting and waitressing, I would save up for a special shirt, a pair of Chic jeans, denim overalls, or hot pants and would wear them everyday until they wore out or I outgrew them.

If we happened to be bored we sure never uttered those words out loud or, before we knew it, we’d be cleaning the house or ironing or cutting the grass. Instead, we’d quietly disappear - usually outside - and would soon find some way to entertain ourselves since there were always other bored kids looking for a game of hopscotch or hide-and-seek or a new path through the forest waiting to be explored. As long as we showed up by suppertime and were around to do the dishes afterwards, no one questioned how we spent the day. Those turned out to be the best days - the kind of days childhood is all about.

I can't complain. I wasn’t spanked often and have never been one to cry easily. Maybe it’s because of the constant threat of being given something to cry about (or the threat of having the electric frying pan cord used on my behind) or maybe it’s just how I’m wired - stoic Irish/English blood runs through my veins. As bad as our childhood sounds to today’s kids, I think it toughened us up and prepared us for the real world in a way that’s missing now. We were taught that things could always be worse so crying over something insignificant wasn’t tolerated. I know it’s a cliche but we survived childhood without being coddled and, most of us, are better for it. While I sure don’t advocate hitting children and rarely spanked our own kids - a swat was usually the most I did - I have to admit that being raised to be resilient has served me well and gave me the ability to handle almost anything.

While, it could be argued, we were expected to grow up too fast it seems to me that, these days, childhood lasts too long. Parents want to shield their kids from the reality of adulthood for as long as possible because, let's face it, adulting can suck. But to become functional adults, children have to learn that life's not fair, you have to work for what you want, there will always be someone better than you, there are things that have to be done even when you hate doing them, and to be respected you have to respect others. The earlier they learn this the better off they'll be. The years go by quickly and childhood is but a short, sweet, idealistic reprieve. To give our children the basic tools they'll need to grow into happy, well-adjusted adults who can survive on their own is really the kindest thing we can do for them, even when we have to do things they (and we) think are unkind.

Our parents raised us mostly by relying on their instincts and by what they knew from their own childhood. They may have threatened, spanked, yelled, made us do chores (like little slaves!), and let us suffer the consequences of bad choices but, ultimately, those things showed how much they loved us. I don't think they did such a bad job.

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