Having a large family, especially since many farmers kept moving further West, solved the problem of falling short of labor. Children cost nothing but the food and clothes to sustain them, leaving parents with fives of children under their roofs. To keep them under control, mothers turned to spanking while fathers whipped in the infamous woodshed.
The 50's, 60's, and 70's were known prevalent years for spanking. While acknowledging that many good things did arise from the progress of those times, the amount of spanking that occurred is one of the reasons I do not like them. And, in that dislike, I often forget there are stories within the millions. I forget there are people who stood against the common parenting practices of the day and did not give "little Billy the spanking he deserved". Perhaps, being a minority, they are not thought of. I think of them now.
A foster child, Jay Baker has been alone since birth. With no one to talk to, his journal pages become his family as he chronicles his journey toward adoption.
"Is it true you do not spank me because I am blind?" Father said nothing. Only his breathing sounded as Miles' heart sank. It was true, after all. It was not love; it was because he was blind. Disabled. Different.
Virgin vaguely recalled exchanging a rake for his fishing pole. Pa folded his arms as Virgin's shoulders slumped.
He was ten years old and already running from the blaze on the horizon where his parents and siblings, servants and friends burned in the flames.
The nursery fell quiet as the children stopped playing to listen to his answer. Miles looked in the direction of the governess's voice. "I want my mother." He felt strangely alone in this unfamiliar manor like a ship without an anchor drifting at the mercy of the tide.