Though I have spent many many years learning how to ‘hit’ and physically defend myself I have never had cause to do so. I always told my students the best use of martial arts is never having to use it for physical defense. Use it for living.
But there was a time when I did hit.
I didn’t know any better.
And it was the only way I knew how to defend myself. And probably, to get what I wanted.
Not that I went around just striking out.
And only because with siblings….it happens.
We were pretty physical. Rambunctious. It doesn’t matter if I was five, or six, or seven. Or ten. Or whatever. There was always someone older being bossy. Or younger being demanding and stupidly cute. I had three older brothers. And four more siblings followed me. I don’t remember us as a particularly ferocious bunch. But with eight of us….there were some fisticuffs. Maybe fisticuffs is a bit of a fancy word for what we did as kids. If you landed a good smack on a sibling for whatever retribution they deserved, it was a well deserved smack. Or a bully move. Depending on the situation.
One day while standing in front of the refrigerator I slapped my sister. I don’t remember why. But I know without a doubt that she deserved it. And we couldn’t have been very old. Though I don’t remember the circumstances leading up to it I clearly remember where we were standing. And mom being right there looking down at us. So I had to be much shorter than her.
Mom: why did you hit her?
And out of my mouth came the only brilliant and perfectly timed excuse of my life. The absolute only acceptable reason for slapping a sibling.
Me: my hand slipped.
I don’t remember being punished. Or disciplined. All I remember is that the look on mom’s face changed.
Other than this….hitting is not funny.
Note to my descendents-I do not condone hitting.
