There's a reason we call her Big Liz, and it has nothing to do with her weight.
I might as well have titled this "The Reasons I Am Not Intimidated By Anyone".

Mom is something of a force of nature. My parents live in a small town in the Adirondacks, and in truth Mom kinda rules the place like the Godfather. She has made her presence known as a tough old bird, as she puts it, through everything from town planning meetings to running a small business to being one of the founders of the local arts center. Once Mom gets it into her head that something should be done in a particular way, she'll steamroll over anyone who stands in her path.

In truth she comes by it honestly- her father was The Great God Damn (so nicknamed for his favorite curse), who she describes as the original Pig Headed Kraut. He was a very autocratic man, a hotshot pathologist sent all over the globe by Cornell University to study various ailments that had them mystified. He even won a Lasker Award for his virology work. Grandma was no less formidable- she got her MD in 1925, worked for Planned Parenthood in its infancy, worked with Eleanor Roosevelt on bringing London war orphans to the US, and when asked why she never wore a wedding band replied, "I'd as soon have a ring through my nose." With parents like these, it's no wonder Mom's something of a powerhouse.

Yet for all of her overbearing presence, she's fiercely devoted to her childrens' well being, and for the well being of those she cares for. This extends to friends, to her community, and anyone else who happens to get on well with her. So Mom is both loved and feared in her little town in the Adirondacks, and as such my family holds a rather special place in the community- all my kids have to tell people in town is that they're her grandkid, and their way is instantly paved for them. Want a job at a particular place? Invoke the name of Big Liz. Want to take out a library book for an extended time? Invoke the name of Big Liz. Need a restaurant reservation on a busy night? Invoke the name of Big Liz.

Mom acknowledges all of this with good humor, at least. She doesn't really want to be such a big and imposing presence, but that's just the way she is. It's from her that I have inherited many of the traits that often irritate people, such as my habit of being rather blunt and politically incorrect when I wish to cut through the bullshit. (As she puts it, "You might not like what you hear, but at least you know where you stand.") I've also inherited her ability to direct my own family and delegate tasks to make the house run a bit more efficiently, and steamroll over the invariable objections that I get from my kids when I ask them to stop playing Warcraft and take out the garbage or some such.

The best story I have on Mom, though, occurred at my aunt's funeral.

Mom and Joanna did not get along at all, but for the sake of her brother Mom put up with Jo. When Jo died of cancer, Mom insisted that my siblings and I all accompany her to the memorial service, as we were all the family Fred has apart from his own children. All of us rallied around her, of course, and were there to support Fred.

Afterward at the open house, Mom spotted Jo's sister across the room as she was talking to me. The sister has some sort of developmental disorder and has spent her entire life in institutions of some sort and is not very functional, so Mom excused herself from me to go talk to her and remind her of who she was. She returned to me a few minutes later, looking very rattled.

"Well? How did it go?" I asked.

"I introduced myself to her because I wasn't sure that she'd remember me. She said, 'Oh, I know who you are. You're the one Joanna called The General.'"

I choked on my mouthful of wine and stared at Mom for a moment in shock. We stood there looking at each other for a few seconds, then about pissed ourselves laughing. Mom had to hold onto me to stand upright, tears streaming down her face, and it took her a minute or two to regain enough composure to explain to Fred why she was still giggling at a wake.

It's now a title that she holds proudly.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Fri 12 Feb 2010, 15:17, 1 reply)

We may very well share a mother...
Although we've never been to the Adirondacks, so that is doubtful. My mother has the same presence. She is our (entire extended family's) General.
(ohnonotagain It's worse than you thought. I'm Canadian., Tue 16 Feb 2010, 5:28, closed)