The DREADED "Stingbat"

Hey, thanks for the reminder. Our Grandpa was a large man. He and his brother, Warren, were among the tallest men in South Dakota . Both over 6 feet-Jobe at 6'4" and his brother at 7'2''. I never met him, but everyone said he was the tallest person they had ever met. This was much easier when the average man was only 5'7". It MAY have seemed that these given heights were a bit of fanciful folklore, but it makes a great story. I can say with certainty that My Grandpa Jobe was huge to me. He towered over everyone and had hands and arms so big he had to add two more inches of length to an ordinary expansion watchband. His fingers looked like a handful of German sausage. He was an auto mechanic and his arms were nearly too big for his shirtsleeves. I watched him have to tug the sleeves up over his bulgy muscles. It was good that such a large man was not the angry type. As a matter of fact, as a 1/8th Lakota Sioux, he was an animist in religion and a pacifist by nature. I never saw him loose his temper, but when he was upset, you knew it. When Mike, Diane and I visited Platte for the summers, he never said he was happy to have us, but he did treat us kindly. However, if we got too wild and loud, especially when he was doing the NEW YOUR TIMES crossword (in pen with NO erasures!), he would stop, put the paper down and just stare at us. If this failed to get our attention, he would cough a special cough from deep in his chest that sounded like a lion getting ready to charge. It THAT failed to make us settle down, he would say, "Come here and stand in front of me." OH, MAN!!! That was Trouble with a capital T. I can only remember this happening to me twice. I must have been dumb, because none of the other kids needed more than once.
I came to his chair where he had the paper on his lap, the pen in his pocket and fire in his eyes.
"Stand still for the Stingbat!" he said quietly. Then he closed his giant fist with only his forefinger curved outward like a hammer head. I closed my eyes and WHAM!!! I got tapped on the forehead right between my eyes. Now tapped is not the right word---it was more like a bolt of lightening if the lightening had been a solid chunk of steel. It hurt so bad, I fell to the floor and saw stars, canaries, and heard a great roar as if being overcome by a rushing flood. It was awful!!! The stingbat must have been invented by Torquemada for the Inquisition. I would have confessed to ANYTHING!!!
I opened my eyes. Grandpa had gone back to his crossword (funny how he never uttered a "cross word" to us). I got up and staggered toward the kitchen where Grandma held sway so she could comisserate with me and tell me how mean Grandpa was and so on. I moaned a bit for effect and waited for her kind words.
"You brought it on yourself."



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