Mom

I was a Sophomore at Westchester High School and Mom would take me to school each morning and drop me off out front. On the approach to the school was a very busy intersection. When things got backed up in this residential neighborhood, a courteous driver would stop (even though they had no stop sign) and allow cross traffic to proceed.
Mom was allowing cross traffic to pass when some sheepdip in a VW bug behind us started sitting on his horn. I got mad and turned around and shot him the bird. We made our way to the drop off point in front of the school and I disembarked to find Coach Somebody in my face, hollering, “Did you give me some kind of sign back there, boy??!!!,” punching my chest with his pointed finger and grabbing me by the shoulder and pushing be backwards.
Before I could say anything, I hear this booming scream, “Get your hands off of my son!!!”
At this point Katfish and some other long-haired reprobates, sneaking a smoke at the nearby corner of the building, became an audience of the confrontation. Mom- who was always well-dressed and proper and wouldn’t dream of making a spectacle of herself- was in her hot pink house coat and must have been a sight to see, maneuvering herself between me and my attacker – him taking steps backwards but unable to distance himself from this intimidating, 5’3″ ball of fire and brimstone, a look a shock and fear on his face.
“Who do you think you are!!”
“Uh…uh…I’m Coach Somebody”.
She was giving him “what for” with her hands on her hips, telling him that his boss would be hearing from her. He finally beat a hasty retreat to his VW and drove off – subjected to a healthy amount of hooting, hollering and applause from the reprobate crowd.
Yes, she did indeed extract apologetic assurances from the Spring Branch ISD Superintendent on the phone later that day.
Thanks, Mom. We sure miss you.