Thoughts From A Bad Day

Today has been one I'd just as soon forget. Everything I touched today has gone haywire, and I'm almost afraid to get on the computer. Yesterday was a trip, complete with a cortizone injection in my spine to relieve some pain. And then I couldn't sleep last night and got about 1.5 hours of sleep before a busy day today that just didn't go right.

We went out and looked for but didn't see or hear any turkeys, which wasn't all that surprising with the cold nit and morning. A sneaky peek was taken at a couple of areas west of Traverse City.

Went looking for fishermen, and they apparently were all huddled indoors.  Obviously waiting for another warm spell. A new visit to a new physical therapy location for my back pain.

Company is coming this weekend, and a closet door wasn't quite closed as I walked past. I pushed it shut, and it came off the track. My wife and I tried to get it back on track, and I suggested my favorite tool.

For those who don't know me well, I am the original five-thumbed klutz. I wouldn't last 10 minutes as the local handyman. To illustrate how my mind works, when something apparently as simple as a sliding bi-fold door doesn't come back on track, I am first to suggest a hammer.

If your ordinary claw hammer doesn't do the job, don't consider a ball peen hammer or a rubber mallet, both of whichare store in my tool chest. Choose a larger hammer, one with a significant bit of authority. A 15-pound sledge hammer isn't any too large for my tastes.

We didn't see any gobblers like this one on our scouting trip.

I could easily become a one-man wrecking crew. But, through sheer willpower, I controlled my temper. I'll explain my ineptness to our guest, and he may understand.

He is a teacher and a coach. Both require an enormous amount of patience, and I suspect with all the rules that schools and teachers must abide by these days, a hammer could possibly be considered a dangerous weapon. But only if you hit someone with it.

In my day, corporal punishment was the law of the land. Mess up in school, and a teacher, the principal or superintendent could and most likely would mete out swift punishment with a smile on their face and a heavy hand. It wouldn't be something to be discussed. It would settle the matter, once and for all.

Years ago (about 60 years ago) my twin brother George made a serious mistake with the hot-water heater in the boy's bathroom just as the principal walked in. George was busily engaged in watering down the heater, and it was something that made the bathroom stink. He'd learned this trick from the big boys who had enough brains to watch the door.

Not George. The principal decided to administer a swift and exacting justice. He grabbed George by the shoulder, spun all 75 pounds of him around, and folded him up like an accordion with a hard fist punch to the belly. George doubled up, the principal delivered a rabbit punch to the back of his neck. That laid him out on the stinky floor.

The principal was the sole judge, jury and executioner, and whistled while using the toilet, and chuckled merrily as he said: "George, doing things like that just aren't accepted in this school. When you feel a bit better I want to see you in my office."

Corporal punishment didn't always work.

I saw George 10 minutes later. He was crabbing his way sideways down the hall, his neck bent a little crooked, and not tracking very straight. I asked what was wrong. He told me what he'd done, what the principal had done, and he was hurrying for another meeting with the 250-pound man.

George never did anything like that again. Corporal punishment had served its purpose in that case. This doesn't mean I wholeheartedly endorse such things these days, but on a day when nothing has gone right, it might explain why I have a longtime love for hammers. The bigger the hammer, the better.

A friend of mine was once a teacher and a school principal at a downstate school. Little Johnny, all 13 years of him, was sent to my friend's office when he sassed and smart-mouthed the teacher. Corporal punished still ruled in those days, and at this school, it was enforced with a ping-pong paddle.

"So, Johnny, what brings you to my office?" he asked.

"I mouthed off to the teacher."

"You know what that means. Five smacks on the butt with the paddle."

"No way you're going to smack me with that paddle."

"C'mon, Johnny, bend over and take your punishment."

Fighting with children in school isn't the answer. Neither is the madness of stupid people taking a gun to school.

The teacher tried to bend the kid over the desk, and the boy resisted, and by the time the principal had used all his strength on the kid, his shirt was half ripped off, his sports coat was a wreck, buttons littered the floor, his tie and hair was askew, and only sheer force kept the kid pinned down for the prescribed punishishment.

He reached over, grabbed the paddle, and as he swung, the ping-pong paddle turned in his hand. Instead of cracking Johnny flat on the butt, the edge went between the kid's legs, and put Johnny on the floor in great pain. Perhaps that is why corporal punishment no longer rules our schools.

So, like poor Johnny, all the things that went wrong today made my guts hurt. Very little was accomplished, and with any kind of luck I won't fall off this swivel chair and hurt myself.

Tonight's blog has very little to do with fishing or hunting, but as a change of pace, it offers two excellent reasons why corporal punishment probably may have had a place in our schools at one time. However, like using a too-large hammer for a small job, perhaps we are much better off for the change. Few things in life are perfect and philosophy of big hammers is one that is not.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors