I will laugh a long time over that mal educato woman in Venezia, Ms. Manners. Thank you so very much!

Dear Miss Manners, Did you mean intimidate? I did laugh when I read that. I work remotely from most of the people I manage. When I finally met one person his comment was, “You sounded so much BIGGER on the phone.”

“…where a woman barely more than five feet tall can intimate everyone?” Yes, but usually her height isn’t a problem, LOL. If you meant intimidate then no, I can’t help you there. I’m not much taller than you are and I haven’t found one yet.

I join Ms. Mugsy in her long laugh, Ms. Manners. Brava!

“Do you know of any other career where a woman barely more than five feet tall can intimidate everyone?” Judith - Yes, I do! As an educator. Let me tell you a real life story… My childhood memories are not full of background details, but my mother’s aunt Edna Corinne Cooper could do just that. She lived in Chicago and taught inner city kids at the same high school for over 40 years. Some students towered over Miss Cooper, who was diminutive and lean. By nature her face appeared stern, her brow rising up frequently as if she was accepting an invisible challenge. Around the holiday table I heard stories from my father of troubled times on the South Side where she worked. But Miss Cooper spoke to us quietly about her students’ efforts and pranks, not once commenting on the dangers she and the families faced in the neighborhoods and Projects. When she spoke all eye’s around our table were drawn to her. She often paced a story of a child so that we didn’t know what was coming next. Often looking inward, her wrinkled face only give away snippets of the emotions held within. The conclusion invariably would come with a laugh so throaty that even I could tell Miss Cooper was giving our family a glimpse of the true humanity she had in abundance. I could just see the gleam in her eyes under her aged, sagging eyelids. I know she intimidated folks, Judith. She did me! But Miss Cooper masterfully captured the students’ attention, and quietly gave them lessons about Life and Dignity that were received as if she were a coach with a 6-foot frame. I wish she had known that the kids really hungered for her teaching as if she was amother with a ladle of nurishing soup. But of course she did! She saw it in their guileless eyes every day. Much later a grown student shared with our family, “Yes, Miss Cooper was my favorite teacher. So many times I’ve wanted to thank her for what she’d done for me.” There he was: polite, neatly dressed, laugh lines around his eyes; wealthy in spirit and challenged by his circumstances of poverty. Today I’d like to thank that gentleman for being a reflection tall of Miss Cooper’s love.