The night of the church polka, Kathy pulled over and turned around in her seat and almost like you would swat a fly, but with the back of her hand 🤚 hit Katherine squarely on her lips. Katherine recoiled with abject fear and consternation. Kathy turne the vehicle around and dropped me off at Coventry video before returning home to change Katherine out of the dreaded high water pants she had been screeching about for forty minutes or so in the car. I assume she got to wear a skirt as she wanted with no tights because she ruined all of the ones she owned. She gave her a fat lip. Later she claimed she had caught Katherine with her diamond ring, but it was her right hand she struck her daughter with. I was so looking forward to the polka. They served my favorite refreshment, 7up and rainbow sherbet and had a balloon drop at the end!!

Almost in the exact same geographic location, she slammed on her brakes, stopping dead in the lane of traffic on the side street adjacent to the high school. Katherine was unbuckled from her car seat to get her sippy cup from the floor and halfway back into the car seat when she stopped suddenly, to reprimand her for unbuckling herself.  Katherine summersaulted down to the floor, hitting her forehead on the little button you had to lift to push the seat up. Kathy didn’t see the cop parked across the street who sauntered up to survey the situation. He looked a lot like Michael Hicks come to think of it, maybe his father?  We got a lights and sirens escort to the emergency room that night. 

I tiptoed around the subject when asking my mom if she believed in hitting kids as a punishment. She looked at me concerned and grilled me about if anyone had hit me. I tried to not directly disclose what promoted my question, wanting an unbiased answer. She thought for a long moment before saying she had never really thought about it because I was such a good boy that discipline had never been an issue she had to consider. I pressed on, asking if she believed other parents should hit their kids as discipline. She was of the school of thought that a swat on the butt may be appropriate at times, but leaving any sort of mark on a child was unacceptable. I asked if that applied to family members as well. She then demanded to know what the third degree was about and I recounted the two incidents which made Katherine bleed. She looked so hurt by my words that I almost wished I never broached the subject. She stopped leaving me alone in Kathy’s care at that point though and always questioned me thoroughly when it had been just me and Katherine with her sister. We were still living at Donna Gamache’s across the street so I think I was only six. 1988.