This guy I worked with told me his grandmother would send him out to find her a switch, and he would bring one back, and she would say, no I need a bigger one than that. So off he would go again, until he brought back one she was satisfied with. Then she would make him strip it of its leaves. Then he would get what was coming to him. He grew up to be an outstanding man.
Yes, his grandmother was also black like this grandmother.
One thing about having to go get another switch is that often the rage was gone by the time you got a good one and the whippin’ wasn’t as bad.