From, "Don't fill Up On the Antipasta", a pending title for my autobiography.
Chapter II. Smack (unedited)
My mother smacked me on the ass when I was a baby and the bishop smacked me on the face when I became a man. The smack was ever present in my early life. My Uncle John used to say about Aunt Gloria, “I’ll just smack 'er”–he wanted to be funny. My father used to say, “Sit here, Joseph, next to me so I can smack you.” In Catholic school Brother Dominic would smack the crap out of your face so vigorously that your head kept going back and forth like Lou Costello long after he was finished.
The smack was a sign of hostility used by the big people to alienate themselves from the little people; something they worked hard at doing. They knew that their shameful thoughts were evil and were always afraid to pollute us with anything we might copy except smacking.
Smacking on the ass had a special significance as did all ass related activities and humor. “I’ll smack your ass!!” echoed throughout our home as a continuous reminder of parental tyranny. Adolf Papa, and Mama Mao dictated our every living and breathing moment with threats of punishment instantly administered, and promises of rewards in the far future, if ever. Mostly, it was the smack that we received as a constant reminder of the omniscience, omnipresence and the omnipotence of our godlike parents. They smacked us every day of our lives until they transferred us to the clergy who associated those same cruel attributes to their eternal God. Those who had the will and ability to suffer enough while here on eretz, if chosen, and Brooklyn, if gentile, would one day be smacked by the Deity into the eternal fires of hell or pardoned into the angelic bliss of heaven.
The smack across the face, ears ringing, jaw ajar, eyes twirling ... a frightening moment in the mind of a child. Adults striking the face where most of our senses are located has the effect of closing down those senses as a threat of danger exists. The smack prepared us for war and killing. The smack was what put you to sleep and what what woke you up. The smack across the back of the head lunged you forward. The smack on the side of the head threw you off balance or simply taught you to snap your head back sharply to regain it. Little wonder we see and feel so little of the violence in the world today.
There were weird smacks like the smack on the chest with the back of the hand and the light smacks on the back of the neck after a haircut. The hard sharp smack on the scapula when you got it over on someone was a sign of vengeful appreciation. The light taps on the cheek followed by, "Bravo, Giusepp, bravo", or "SENTI! ... Tu CAPISCI" [listen up, understand] reminded one of the presence of the hand and it's various capabilities.
The smack, although hostile at times, was in some senses a sign of peace because it was something delivered with an open hand. The open, receptive, giving and loving hand of mother could on a dime represent the savage judgement of Ghengis Kahn. The hand of comfort and healing which offered the tasty ladles of sauces and soups could in an instant turn into a routine Kata of disapproval administered to the mouth while so eagerly stuffing itself with food. In these ways and many others, smacking was intricately connected with growing up strong, flexible and for many, laden with anxiety disorders that would require a lifetime to figure out. Weaning from the loving smacks, I suppose, was the more painful reality brought on by adulthood –could I continue to be loved unless smacked? Thus, the smack of disapproval began to take on strange new forms I was less accustomed to. Even today they are more perplexing and often confusing.
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Comments
I think repeated smacking is to be discouraged and am pleased it has fallen out of disfavor in many quarters today.
"nothing a good smack won't fix"
Thees phrases were common in my childhood, and though the threat was often made good, it wasn't always frightening. It's strange how smacking had meanings on both ends of the spectrum - you were either in really big bad trouble (not always for a detectable reason) or someone was joshing around with you.