My father gets married to a woman who wears glassed with Swastika symbols on the temples. One weekend I am sent to visit my father and stepmom. We are finishing dinner and I am supposed to take the plate to the kitchen and rinse it off and put it in the dishwasher. I didn’t rinse off all the food. My father goes into the kitchen and leans out the doorway into the dining room and asked me to come to the kitchen. I go into the kitchen and he grabs my arm and starts spanking me. Then he points to the food I didn’t rinse off and said, I told you to rinse the plates before you put them in the dishwasher. I remember looking up at him and feeling hurt and angry that he spanked me. Fast forward. My mother passes away. My sister shares something with me that reinforces the stories my brother used to tell me and what I had experienced.
My sister and brother have the same birthday just 4 years apart. My sister told me when they would celebrated their birthday my father would give them a swat for each year they were alive. As they got older the swats got harder, and eventually, they were so hard they were more like a beating, and they started crying, as the swatting (beating hurt) and they came to hate celebrating their birthday. Imagine hating celebrating your birthday because you’ll be spanked/beaten? When should a child beg a father to stop hitting him? And from what I learned, with his hand, belt, wooden clothes hanger, and a switch? WTF??? This all happened before I was born and during my single-digit years, and my sister witnessed most of it.