It was the Fourth of July long weekend a couple of years ago and dad and I were visiting his parents, my grands.  My grands live in a small town where they do the holiday in the old fashion way with a town picnic with games followed by fireworks.  The fireworks display was puny, to be honest, lasting only five minutes.  Not like what we have here and certainly not the huge spectaculars that we see on the TV.

It was bedtime when we got home and dad sent me to bed in his old room while he had his brother’s room who was not visiting.  It was still decorated like when he was in high school so I was experiencing how he lived.  He told me to watch the backyard at ten for a surprise.

I got surprised all right.  Actually there were two surprises – the one dad planned and the one Gramps improvised.

I saw dad doing stuff in the yard by the light of the full moon and then the flame of his lighter.  Indeed, it was a surprise as I watched the fuse burn and then the liftoff of a rocket which burst a few seconds later.  Dad sent up a few before Gramps came storming out of the house.  He was enraged to put it mildly and immediately was yelling at dad.

Gramps laid it into dad like he had destroyed the world.  He reminded dad that fireworks were absolutely forbidden and that he had strapped him years before when he was fifteen.  Dad was cowed by Gramps just like we are when our dads get onto us.

Somewhat weakly dad claimed that he was an adult now but Gramps did not care and reminded him that he was under his roof and his rules applied.  It was unbelievable what followed.  Gramps grabbed dad’s ear and headed for the old shed near the back fence.

I was shown that shed many times for all dad’s stories about being strapped were set there.  The strap still hung on the side and only a bit of wood for festive fires was stored there now.  I was watching intently wishing I could be close up and that there was more light.

Once they were at the shed, I could tell that dad dropped his pants.  Then because his undies were white I could see them go down also.

Gramps was swinging the strap and immediately started roasting dad’s bare butt.  It was the first time that I heard the fearsome strap strike a bare bottom.  It was an awesome SPLAT!  I could only imagine the red stripe it produced on the target.

Then it was repeated and repeated and repeated.  Each and every cut as hard as the first.  I counted and dad got his age – forty hard whacks.  At first he was stoic and was silent but near the end it was too much and he made noise.  You know exactly what sort for that is what we do.

I quickly got into bed in case Gramps checked on me.  Like Lady Macbeth, I did not want to be seen as a watcher.  It was a good thing because Gramps did check on me but I remained still.  I did not hear dad come in so I must have fallen asleep promptly.

In the morning I did not say anything about it but noted dad had trouble sitting on the wooden kitchen chairs even with a cushion that Grandma thoughtfully provided.  He was also unusually quiet.  Out of Gramps’ hearing I tactfully thanked him for the private show and did not mention Gramps’ followup.