I started playing piano at a young age. I think first grade. I’ve always loved music, and I think I would have been good at it except there was only one problem. My mother sitting on the couch next to the piano nagging, criticizing, nit picking, and yelling. Then I would start crying and refuse to practice anymore. That’s when the yard stick would come out. Yes, she used it. No, it did not motivate me to practice. After a couple years of this she finally gave up and let me quit. She sold the piano.
Oh how I wish I could play the piano today. Musical talent runs in my family (birth family that is). I have it, I’m pretty sure my daughter has it even though she was an athlete and only played the clarinet in junior high, and my granddaughter…oh my…that child definitely has musical talent!
When I was in about the sixth grade I was diagnosed with Scholiosis (curvature of the spine). It was detected in one of those school screenings where they have all the girls come into a room, take their shirts off, bend over, and look to see if one side of the back is higher than the other. Obviously, they took the boys to a separate room, had them take their shirts off, and did the same thing. I went to my doctor who sent me to a specialists. In order to keep from wearing a back brace I had to go to physical therapy and do exercises on a daily basis. As if this wasn’t bad enough every night I had to get down on a matt on the family room floor while my mother sat in her recliner, puffing on her cigarettes, with the yard stick in her lap (repeat above piano scenario). I remember the night I snuck off to bed early thinking she might forget. She didn’t. I was half asleep when I got yanked out of bed by the hair, dragged down the hall, through the house, and was thrown on the family room floor where she proceeded to whack with the yard stick. No, it did not motivate me to do the exercises. It only resulted in a yelling screaming match and prolonged the process.
Today I do not have a problem with my back. I’m sure it is a little uneven. You can mostly see it in my waist, but for the most part it’s not very noticeable.
There were countless other yard stick episodes over the years. For some reason these two incidents stand out in my mind. I don’t remember her using it anymore once I was in high school.
The yard stick episodes actually pale in comparison to the lashings from her tongue. My soul has died a thousand deaths over the years from those lashings.
Several years ago when my mother moved to a retirement community I had the task of closing up her house. The yard stick was still leaning in a corner of the laundry room. I had the pleasure of walking it out to the curb and throwing that yard stick on a pile of trash.
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