My father was a cop. He was a CWO3, CID, USArmy. He was raised by an abusive father, who would punch him in the face, just to “toughen him up”.

I thank whatever gods there may be, for my father.

He decided, after he left the WW2 Navy, and married my mother, that his children would never be beaten by more than a light swat on the butt, and absolutely never struck on any part of our heads.

I recall, when I was very small, my mother, harried, tired, making supper after a long day at work, harassed and annoyed by my psycopathic (?), narcissistic (?), older sister, out of frustration, back-handed the little psycho, hard enough to only make her take a step back. Our father happened to be home, and saw it. (Keep in mind that this was in 1964.)

He was instantly in front of my mother, clutching the lapels of her dress. He said, “I told you! Never hit one of my children in the head!!!”

He was a good man, not perfect, and still a product of the times, but wise enough to stop the cycle.

He recognized that abuse was a continuous cycle, passed on from generation to generation. He died on November 11th, 1966. R.I.P.- Lewis C. Sumrell, Sr., WW2, Korea.😍😘😇