An Inherited Trait

[Arabella Porter]

            From my mother, inherited an inability to take any crap. That’s a fact. My mother didn’t put up with tom foolery in her classroom or out of her class room.  I like to think that that’s why my father married her. I will never forget the day we arrived in London. My mother and I were crossing the street and a carriage came bumping in, almost running over both of us. As the carriage came to an abrupt stop, the driver began yelling at her to move her ass.  But Mrs. Porter does not take such language from anyone. I remember her countenance inflating as if a rhino had just made its way across the street.  She then let loose a loud array of commentary on the man’s manners as she knocked on the door of the carriage. When the well-dressed gentleman inside apologized on his ride’s behalf, explaining that he had an appointment, crossed her arms and said,

              “Well then maybe this will teach you to stop doddling in the mornings and give yourself enough time to arrive at your location, without running over a widow’s daughter.”  She then took my hand, picked up our bags, and kept walking without giving the man another chance for apology.  I was 6 and a half.