I remem­ber, when I was a lit­tle girl, my grand­moth­er was a police matron. This was in the 1930s, way before women were in the reg­u­lar police force. She was there for ques­tion­ing female pris­on­ers. Once she even arrest­ed a man she rec­og­nized from a local want­ed poster. She walked up to him, told him she had a gun in her purse, and request­ed that he walk with her to the police sta­tion. He did.

Some­how, I don’t think that would work today. But grand­mas have a sur­pris­ing amount of author­i­ty. Think about it. They’ve raised chil­dren, and raised them well enough so those chil­dren are now par­ents. I think it’s that voice and look of The Moth­er. The child knows exact­ly what it means.

So, I was not sur­prised at all to hear about a grand­moth­er who is a bounc­er at a local high-end restau­rant. When asked, What do you do when peo­ple get unruly? she replied: I can sit there and not say a word, and I don’t know how many times peo­ple say to me, “You scare me.”

To see the rest of the sto­ry, and view a pleas­ant-look­ing woman, go here.

I would not be sur­prised if, among any group, and espe­cial­ly among writ­ers, there are quite a few grand­mas with amaz­ing sto­ries. Am I right? Is/was your grand­moth­er one of those amaz­ing women?