My paternal grandfather was scary. As a child I didn't want to be in the same room with him. I never saw him looking other than angry or unhappy.

Then for years I wondered if I'd been unfair to him. After my early teens I never saw him again. But recently Helen, my step-mother and Mom's only sister, talked about him. She's very kind, but she didn't mince words.

"I never trusted Mac's dad," she said. "Neither did your mom. He was a mean man and he was awful to your grandmother."

During the Great Depression Grandpa struggled to keep the farm and family together. My dad talked about how those years were rough on everyone.

Dad also told me about his determination to receive a college education. With his mother's knowledge and help, he attended the University of Iowa.

"Nobody in my family had ever been to college," Dad said. "I was the eldest of eight and we were dirt poor. When I told Dad I was leaving for school that fall, he picked up a two-by-four and tried to hit me. I outran him, but I had to duck him until I left."

Later my grandfather beat up my grandmother so badly she was hospitalized. By then, my parents said, Grandpa suffered from "senile dementia." Dad and his siblings found pleasant accommodations for Grandma. Grandpa went to a locked ward in what they called "the old folks' home."

When I turned 12 my dad started losing his temper with me. I understand. I was ahead of my time with the smart mouth.

But he started hitting me, once for wearing shorts to go to an ice cream parlor with my friends. He left hand prints on my legs and rear. He said only, "You don't leave the yard in shorts."

After he hit me, he would come to my room crying, telling me over and over how sorry he was. I think maybe I was angrier at him for that than for smacking me, though I didn't dare say so.

From my grandfather to my dad to me. It's horrible how it travels from generation to generation. At times I was violent with our children -- I too had learned that if I was angry enough, I wasn't required to curb my temper.

My first marriage was abusive. It nearly destroyed what little self-confidence I had. It was my dad who showed up on our doorstep one day and whisked the children and me into hiding. Later I learned about the death threats my ex had made toward Dad, Mom, the children and me.

Eventually I remarried an exceptionally gentle man. We both had things to learn, but every year Lowell models Jesus for me and shows me more of God's grace. I've learned a softer way of being. I am blessed.

Jesus didn't say, "Never hit your children." He probably thought we should know that. It's right up there with never hit your spouse. Amen to that.

Joan Uda is a retired United Methodist minister who lives in Lewis and Clark County. Her columns and other writings are collected in a book, "At the Water's Edge," available at area bookstores.

Contact her at joanuda@yahoo.com