A couple of days later the phones were working as Jeb got a call. Pops got one too. The sheriff was going to drop by that next morning at the café to discuss the whole thing with the Senior High prank and the other farmer's dead cow. Such was life in rural you know where!
Just about dusk that evening though, Jeb's phone was ringing off the wall when he walked in from finishing bedding down the horses. He had no idea how long it has been ringing but he dashed in, stomping the barn dirt off his feet, and grabbed it.
"Yeh, yeh, I'm here," he spoke though a bit out of breath.
"Where the heck you bin, boy?" the gruff male voice on the other end came through.
"Who is this?" Jeb questioned.
"You don't recognize your next door neighbor, boy?" the voice continued.
"Pops? That you, Pops?"
"Sure it's me. What took you so long to answer this darn thing?" he graveled on.
"Just finishing up with my horses. You done early tonight over there?"
"Yea, but remember I got me some help for the summer for what it's worth," Pops assessed things bluntly.
"So, what's up, Pops? Something wrong over there?" Jeb questioned as Pops rarely phoned just to chat up the lines.
"Nah, nothing wrong but I'm wondering somethin," he said.
"Shoot," Jeb never hesitated a minute.
"I ride with you tomorrow down to the Café? I'm thinking you got the same call about that there sheriff coming by to discuss things with us 'n all?" he spoke slowly but clearly.
"Yea, sure, but something wrong with your truck?"
"Nah, just thought neighbors might go along together."
"OK, I'll pick you up around 9:30 or so"
"Good," Pops replied, "and I's thank you for it."
And Jeb did. The next morning Pops climbed up into Jeb's cab carefully if slowly with his wife standing there watching and barking orders about one thing or another.
"That old woman's gonna drive me to drink one of these days," the old man bemoaned his fate as they drove off leaving a dust ball behind them.
Jeb just laughed. "How long you two been married, Pops?" he asked.
"Just 54 years and I've felt every _d_a_m_n_ed one of them too," he started to laugh. "She hates it when I say that! She sure does. Never marry a _d_a_m_n_ed school teacher. All I's hearing for the past couple of weeks is her always correcting my great grandson. _d_a_m_n_ you'd think she'd let up once in a while, now wouldn't ya." It was more of a statement than a question. Jeb just laughed.
"How the boy working out for you, Pops?" Jeb was making small talk.
"That one? Heck, he's got himself a burr up his butt if you know what I mean. Can't really work. Don't know the meaning of the word but don't know much either. Seems more interested in working on his _d_a_m_n_ tan than getting things done, but I'm working on him." Pops chin moved down firmly as if to emphasize the fact.
"Meaning?" Jeb questioned.
"Meaning after three weeks of the kid's still being here I'm still explaining everything and showing him how to do every thing too. Still can't milk a cow. But it's gonna' come to a head soon it is."
"Meaning?" Jeb questioned again.
"Meaning if he don't get going soon I'm gonna' give him something to get going about."
"Meaning?" Jeb questioned even again.
"Meaning can't you use any other word than 'meaning'?" Pops seemed almost sharp with Jeb as the two of them bounced over the washboard dirt road in Jeb's truck. "Meaning if he don't start working good for me I'm gonna give him a whipping. I told him so this morning."
"You mean to tell me that great grandson of yours has been there three weeks and you ain't even whipped him yet? Hell, Pops, you're getting soft in your old age." Jeb kidded him.
The old man shrugged his shoulders and laughed. "Yea, well, guess I ain't as young as I used'ta be. Ain't as strong neither ya' know; but I did turn him over one night and paddled him."
"Well, that should have gotten his attention."
"Not really. It didn't seem to phase him at all," Pops continued with his voice trailing off softly.
"Why not? The paddle always still gets the attention of my boy's when they're here and they're about his age."
"Yea, same age I think, but it didn't."
"You take his pants down for him?"
"Nope, but I should have."
"Well, that's the problem, Pops. You got to get his attention."
"Yea, I always could before, but this time I didn't. Guess maybe it's cause Ma's been on him a lot and all."
"Well, it's up to you, Pops, but you aren't going to get very far if you let the boy leave his pants on," Jeb added.
"Know you're right, I do and I told him I'm gonna' make him take 'em down the next time too," Pops added.
"How'd he take it?"
"He laughed."
"Sounds like to me you got you a boy who's just asking to get his ass paddled, that's all."
"And that's what I told him this morning too. It's a coming," Pops grunted.
"Then just get on with it and give it to him, Pops!" Jeb counseled.
"Yea, you's right and I intend to too," Pops grunted more.
With the two men in agreement at that point. They talked about other things until they arrived at the café and joined the others already there. The sheriff joined them and they all sat around discussing the Senior High prank and what one old farmer called "these kids." It was one of those good old boys discussing everything from kid's drinking in the park at night, to the values of a curfew, to the school letting kids get away with things, to teachers having "no standards or guts," to bringing back paddling in the schools, and on and on and on. The sheriff's contributions were limited to what the law permitted him these days but there was also no question he agreed with those men and a few women sitting around there venting their frustrations openly. Those there and adding to it all were real clear about their own disciplinary practices with their own kids, including Jeb who when asked directly how he disciplined his teenage boys answered equally directly, "I take my belt to their butts." The nods around the table indicated clear community approval. No one raised any objections at all.
When that impromptu "town hall" meeting was finally over, the sheriff was clear too. "OK, I'll talk to Judge Black about it and recommend lighter sentences for the kids who's parents are willing to discipline them and convey your feelings to the Principal as well." Everybody knew he would too. And everybody agreed he should. It was that kind of a small town.
Even Pops was as vocal as ever. After it was all over there was no question he too was in complete agreement with the rest. If anything, Pops was energized and even more excited up about things. These kids were out of control and corporal punishment was the solution. There was no question about it. And, Pops was going to do his part too.
"Glad to hear what ya' said back there," Pops told Jeb as they drove out of town on their way home.
"Just the way I feel, that's all," the far quieter Jeb replied. Jeb was not much for talking once he had made his point.
"Yea, and we all know your boys aren't part of any problems when they're around here either. Good boys, yours are," Pops added.
"Thank ya, Pops. I intend to keep 'em that way too," Jeb replied openly. Nothing at all to hide. When his boy had been in middle school in the town, it was an open secret around that school among the boys that Jeb paddled them. Then again it was nothing unusual as most of them were paddled by their own parents too.
So when Jeb drove up the dirt lane and returned Pops home, he left him with parting wisdom, "whip that grandson of yours good the next time, Pops. Do it right," and he smiled.
"Oh, I will, believe me, I will. Thanks for the lift, Jeb. Enjoyed it!" Pops climbed down and headed slowly toward his front door with one of those hearty waves back at Jeb that he was known for at his age.
Jeb drove off smiling. Heading down the dirt road toward the main street and ultimately to his place down the way, he could see Pop's great grandson sitting out there in the field with his hoe beside him while he appeared to be taking a water break. The boy waved at Jeb in the truck. He looked like he was indeed adjusting to country life, but Jeb could not but help wondering how the city boy would really deal with it when or if he really felt Pops' strap? He would not be waving and smiling like he was at that moment if he had known what Pops and Jeb had been talking about.
But life goes on in the country where people depend on their land. No one has the time to stop and ponder things for too long. Animals need tended, irrigation needs to be kept working, fences must be kept fixed, and there is no time left for anyone to spend too much time thinking about anything other than what needs to be done that day. Nevertheless, now and then Jeb found himself thinking about the good looking city boy on Pop's spread next door. Aaron would be there for the whole summer that had just begun.
The next time Jeb saw Pops and his wife was in church a couple of Sundays later. Jeb was not the church going type but now and then, yes, he attended. There in the front sat the old man, the old woman, and the good looking city boy. The boy, Aaron, was sitting obviously stiffly beside the two of them. He hardly moved at all during the sermon. Not even Jeb's own boys were that attentive!
After the congregation had sang its last hymn and the benediction had dismissed them all, everyone was greeting each other. People walked out, pausing to shake hands with the elderly pastor, and continued talking with their friends outside. Jeb and his neighbors were no exception. All dressed in their Sunday best Pop and his wife shook hands with everyone and talked about the on-going drought. When Jeb shook Aaron's hand the boy smiled widely and seemed happy to see someone he recognized. "How are you, Sir?"
"Just fine, Aaron, just fine," he clapped the boy on his back. "You getting on OK out here?"
"It's different from home," he said and paused, "but I'm learning."
"Darn right he's a-learning," Pops, who was standing right there, added.
Jeb could only speculate about how? Aaron seemed definitely stiffer than he had remembered the boy being before though. Aaron himself looked as good as ever. He was talking about farm life. He enjoyed the horses that was for sure.
"When are your boys coming up for the summer, Jeb?" the old lady asked while taking the cowboy's hand and patting it tenderly.
"Later this summer, Ma'am," he said.
"Well, why don't you just come over and let me cook you a good home cooked meal one of these days, Jeb," she said, "Love to have you."
"Anytime, ma'am. Be my pleasure."
"We'll do it then," she said. "I'll call you."
Just a warm, friendly, country Sunday morning. Jeb went home later to pick up with the harnesses he was mending. He thought nothing more about it.
But that next Saturday night, Pops' wife did phone Jeb and invited him over for Sunday dinner. "Sure thing," he told her, "be my pleasure." And there they were in Church the next morning. All three were sitting in that same front pew Pops always favored. None of them moved so much as a muscle.
After the service he greeting them and others and then he drove behind them and followed them back to their place. Their place was one of those old style two-story farming homes built in the 30's when wooden porches all circled the house and rocking chairs were always in common site. The porch needed painted as did the whole now faded yellow house. The paint was pealing. Still, that house was just what you would expect people like them to be still living in after their own kids had been long since gone off to the city. Jeb had been in the house before though it had not been for years it seemed. Like most people in these parts, they all went in through the back kitchen door where coats were still hanging on hooks for when winter comes. And right there by the inner door leading into the kitchen, it still hung there too: Pops old leather strap was there for all to see.
That strap was like most of those that farmers always used to have. It was about three and a half to four feet long. It was maybe two and a half but not more than three inches wide with a smaller but sturdy leather handle with a hole in it for hanging it to a nail there on the wall. The strap was little different but similar to the razor straps old fashioned barber shops always used to have hanging on the side of barber chairs. The straps were openly bought in leather tackle and harness shop by any father who had a boy. And there was nothing at all unusual with this back then. No one had to hunt to get a good one to use on an errant or less-than-courteous boy. Most families just handed theirs down from generation to generation. Teenage boys being escorted by dad out to the barn behind the house on a Saturday night always knew that in walking out that back door with dad right behind them that dad had picked that strap off its hook and would bring it out there with them. And once dad shoved the old wooden door of the barn or shed shut with a kick of his foot or a shove of his hand, the boy knew that the strap would be used on him as soon as he was bent over. Punishment was a male ritual and well practiced. The women folk would remain in the house though they always knew what was taking place and could often hear it happening. When it was all over with the boy in tears, the boy and his Dad or Uncle would ultimately walk back into the kitchen. The redness or still flowing tears of the well-strapped boy were clearly evident to everyone. Some boys were strapped in the kitchen or other rooms, but in the old days in rural areas, that special shed or barn out back held a special fear to teenage boys and was by far the most common place for whipping them.
Barns in those days often had an area where boys all knew their Dads or Uncles would strap them too. Sometimes it would be over a workbench. Sometimes, a simple bale of hay; sometimes, a saw horse stood quietly waiting there for the boy to be bent over. But the boy no matter his age would be bent over. The strap that Dad had brought out in his hand would be applied. Some Dads would be told to drop their jeans and briefs and go over, some Dads would taken them down themselves, and some Dads told them simply, "Strip, son." For sure, the boy would obey quietly. The time for discussion was over. Many men would just strap their boys and leave them howling and promising wildly. Some men would take them over their knees and spank them raw. After all, that was why they all knew the good lord gave their boys good fleshy bare bottoms.
That was the way it had always been in this valley and still was today.
For sure, the boy would never object to a spanking! He would strip quickly and be happy if it was just going to be another spanking rather than the strap or, worse yet for some, a switch dad fresh cut from a willow tree on their way out there. It happened all the time and to all of them. They did not need to discuss things in school but they often did anyway. It was nothing out of the ordinary at all around this part of the country. No big deal as corporal punishment worked, it was believed in and preached from the Bible. And, as a result, teenage boys grew up politely and with gentlemanly characteristics.
School, especially high school, was taken very seriously back then and all boys knew it. Report card time was when many boys made that journey out to the shed with their fathers; but in many families, Saturdays and Sundays would often see these regular father and son discussions taking place.
In those special parts of the barn or in Dad's work shed where the women folk never went, another strap or a paddle often hung there on the wall beside the skimpily clad girly gas station calendars. Those _s_e_x_y girl's pictures commanded a prominent space on the wall beside the paddles in this private male sanctuary. And many a teenage boy would look at them and wishfully hope they would be there to sooth their bare butts later too. Some teenage boys would begin to unbuckle their belts as soon as they were taken in there. Others would wait, hoping, often in vain, that dad would be satisfied with just their jean-covered bottom. But it was always the Dad or Uncle – sometimes an older brother – who decided these things. The hapless teenage boy knew his pants were probably coming down and the strap's attention to his bare bottom would soon not only be causing him some sharp pain back there but his tears would be flowing too.
It was as it should be. Nobody was in any way embarrassed or humiliated about spanking or strapping a boy no matter his age. Boys learned best with Dad's strap and countless generations of farmer and rancher all knew it and had proved it.
Women could wield that strap too. Many boys would find themselves spanked on the bare bottom, or strapped, first by their mothers in the kitchen only to be sent up to their bedroom to await the fathers return from the field or wherever he worked. And that boy waiting in his room knew it was not over for him. Sure, teenage boys were embarrassed when it was about to happen and everyone there in the family knew that as Dad took them for that walk, but it was still very common.
And what Jeb knew was that it is still common today in the good homes and families in the heartlands and cattle country where they lived.
Pops, his wife, and the boy, Aaron, too with Jeb there with them all walked right in the kitchen door past that strap hanging there. No one paid any attention to that particular strap hanging there. It was nothing out of the ordinary in this seventh generation of Pop's good farming and ranching family that had tilled that land with patriotic pride.
The old lady quickly pulled down an apron hanging beside that strap as she passed it and started tying it around her waist after pulling it over her head without messing her hair. She told Pops and Jeb to go into the Parlor even though the men sat down at her kitchen table instead. Aaron she told to go change out of his "Sunday clothes" but he was already at the stairs headed up them to do that before she had spoken. Pops sat down shaking his head at his young great grandson heading up those stairs as his wife was pulling out the ice and the iced tea for them.
"Darn kids, just don't care about farming anymore," he muttered to himself.
"Tell me about it?" Jeb smiled and spoke himself. "It's the times we live it. Got to adjust, Pops."
To be continued . . .