The Birds and the Bees…
(according to Mom)
My Mom and Dad were immigrants to this country. Mom was from Sicily and Dad was from Poland. They were babies when they arrived at Ellis Island. Each of them was part of large families; thirteen on Mom’s side and eighteen on Dad’s side. Yes, it’s true …both grandfathers screwed themselves out of a bed to sleep in and a place at the dinner table!
Mom was a devout Roman Catholic. Dad was Catholic, too, but not so devout. However, he’d go to church if Mom could catch him before he snuck out to go fishing at 5:00 a.m. every Sunday morning.
I hated church. I was always scared of the all the stuff I was told in Catholic Catechism classes. Hell didn’t sound like a place I wanted to go and you can bet your ass Mom made it clear to me that was exactly where I was headed if I didn’t listen to Father Dougherty and Sister Mary. Those two were a pair to draw to. As I got older I just knew they must’ve been doing the “nasty” for years.
Mom had planned my future to become a priest. Yeah…go ahead and laugh. It’s okay. She enforced her plans with a wide array of wooden spoons applied liberally anywhere she could find with those wild swings. However, my ass took the brunt of most of her blows. That’s why I’ve got such a cute, hard, tight ass. The swelling’s never completely gone down.
She was ecstatic when I made my First Communion; loved watching me get “clocked” across the face by Bishop Weldon at my Confirmation; and could hardly contain her joy when I became an altar boy and could recite the Mass in Latin. Go ahead. You can keep laughing here.
That joy and elation was short lived when Billy Duffy and I were caught getting into Father Dougherty’s altar wine, which really wasn’t wine and tasted a lot like the Crown Royal I came to love as an adult, and we were thrown off the altar boy squad. Hallelujah! Praise the Lord and send me the money! I’m happy you can be happy, too, I thought…until I got home and the news had preceded me there.
Mom was waiting and had an assortment of different sized wooden spoons she had laid out on the kitchen table like surgical instruments on an operating room tray.
“You little shit! Get over here,” She motioned with her finger and reaching for the first spoon…the big one!
There really wasn’t anything I could say in my defense. There was no excuse that could have possibly saved my ass and Divine Intervention was definitely out. My ass puckered so tight I couldn’t walk. I scooted flat footed towards her when the idea hit me like a freight train. Run Little Ronnie! Run! I spun around and ran past my father who was bending over picking something up, crashed through the screen door, hauled ass down the driveway, took a right at the end and didn’t stop until I got to The Meadows about a mile away.
The Meadows was a place all of we kids hid out when we were on the “run”. An hour later my dad found me walking on the dirt road headed towards the fort we kids had built near the Connecticut River at a place called, The Cove. He pulled up next to me and said through the open window of his car, “C’mon. Get in. We’ll go fishing at Bark Haul Brook until Mom cools off. She’ll be okay in a few hours.”
From that day on, Mom had a new thing to teach me. Church had failed so she concentrated on girls. That’s right…girls. I hadn’t even grown my first curly hair yet but she was going to make sure I never got into any “trouble” in that department. She was going to be my “Birds and Bees” instructor. Now you can smile…maybe even chuckle.
This took a tremendous load off my father who wanted no part of that shit. However, Mom took her mission very seriously with me. She was so serious that I would be almost twenty years old before I had my “first taste” of anything with a hot little chick.
I had come home from college for the weekend to attend a family function on Sunday. It would be a great opportunity to let Mom do all my stinking laundry, also.
After dinner on Friday evening she asked, “So, what are your plans this weekend, Ronnie?”
“Well, I’m going to a party tonight out by Ft. DeSoto Park,” I casually replied.
“Don’t forget,” she started, “when you’re home the same rules apply. You have to be in by midnight.”
“For cryin’ out load, Mom, it’s going to be an all night party,” I responded, uneasily.
“Not for you it’s not,” she shot back. “Home by midnight or I deadbolt both locks and you’ve only got one key! You’ll be locked out.”
I shook my head and thought, Gee, what a pity. Hmmm.
She was glaring at me and my father just kept studying his dog racing forms trying not to rush his handicapping. I knew he wanted out of there because my Aunt Hen ( her real name was Vinnie), was coming over for an evening of prayer and to bitch him out for being a heathen and to remind him where he was going to end up if he didn’t change his ways. Dad had it all figured out though. Heaven was Derby Lane Dog Track. Hell was four hours with Aunt Hen.
As I started to leave, Mom reminded me once again, “Remember, Ronnie…midnight. I mean it!”
Dad chimed in, never looking up from his racing form, “Yeah, Ronnie, midnight.”
On the way out the door I said, “See you guys later. Love you both.”
There was no response but I could feel my Mom’s eyes on the back of my neck as I walked out the door.
The next morning, bright and early, around 6:30 a.m., I came up the walk…whistling. Yep. I was one happy camper as I came through the front door, looking to my right.
“How are you guys doing this fine morning?”
Mom sat staring straight ahead. Dad looked at me as he tapped his fingers on the table. As I stood in silence waiting for a reply, Mom got up and walked over to me. As she got to me she stood silently looking up at me and squinted…that sly Sicilian look…the curse look.
“Where have you been?” she asked, standing on her tip toes so she could get her 4’10” body closer to eye level with me.
“I’ve been out. I told you I was going to an all night party at the beach,” I courageously answered.
“Really,” she responded sarcastically, ready to blow.
“Jeez, Mom, I’m almost twenty years old for cryin’ out loud. I can take care of myself.”
That got her juices flowing.
“You were with that little tramp, Gail, weren’t you?”
I shook my head and replied, “There were a lot of girls there last night and yes, Gail was there. I’m not answering any more questions. Besides, you lied to me!”
Mom went ballistic as she shook her finger at me and said, “I’ve never lied to you! Ever! Not once!”
Dad slowly raised his head and watched without saying a word. He knew better than to get in the middle of one of these bouts.
“Yeah, you did, Mom,” I answered calmly.
“When did I ever lie to you?” she screamed.
“Well, remember all those times you told me stories about the little girls at school? Remember how you told me if I touched them ‘down there’ I could get hurt because those ‘things’ had teeth on them? Well, last night I found out they didn’t have any teeth and they felt pretty darned good! As a matter of fact Mom, I’m going out again tonight to another all night beach party.”
I turned away from her and started for my room.
“Stan! Did you hear what he said to me?”
I heard Dad’s chair slam against the wall. I knew he’d be following me. I went into my room and closed the door and walked to the end of the room and waited. He walked in, closed the door, locked it, and stared at me.
“Go ahead. Hit me,” I said.
He walked up to me with his arms outstretched and then embraced me.
“Thank god! Thank God you’re okay,” he whispered as he kissed me on each cheek. “All these years I thought you were a ‘queer’. All you ever did was work on those damned cars you loved to build. You never went out with any girls. I’m so happy you’re ‘normal’!”
“Normal? Normal,” I thought, half in shock. “You’ve gotta be shittin’ me?”
Dad stepped back and whispered, “Play along with me here or we’re both in trouble. Your mother’s going to be at the door any second now.”
My eyes were glued on my father and I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or run for my frickin’ life. He stepped back and took his belt off, smiling. I took a hard swallow and then he turned and slammed the belt across my dresser top.
Without hesitation I yelled, “Ouch!”
“Damn you, Ronnie! You’ve been asking for this for a long time,” Dad yelled.
Two more whacks.
Two more loud “ouches”.
Now Mom was at the door yelling, “Stanley! Stop it! You’re hurting him! You’re going to kill him!”
Dad winked and smiled then said loudly, “You get a shower you little shit! You stink for Christ sakes! Then get your ass into bed and get some sleep and for once in your life do as your Mother tells you!”
Mom was pounding furiously on the door as Dad bent down and whispered, “You can sneak out later. We’re going shopping around noon. Have a good time. I love you.”
I looked up at my Dad and whispered, “Don’t worry about the cars. I have a feeling I won’t be working on them too much anymore.”
“I’m going to call the police if you don’t stop hitting him, Stan! I mean it,” Mom yelled.
“Don’t worry about it,” Dad yelled. “Get away from the door. I’m coming out and you leave him in here to stew in this for a while. He’s had this comin’ for a long time!”
Dad smiled and left closing the door behind him. I heard him say to Mom, “He’s okay, Jo. He’ll be fine. He just needs some rest.”
Needless to say, from that day on my life took a tremendous turn. I made up for lots of lost time in the female department and I became a true “man”, always thinking with the “wrong head” first.
