My father's mother was a tough bird. She was all of 4 feet 11 inches and 90lbs dripping wet, but she was a force to be reckoned with. Her sons were combat veterans and business leaders - physically imposing, forceful commanding men who could dominate any room. But they were all terrified of her.
When I was about 19, I was sitting around in her backyard with a few of my cousins and my uncle Bob - just hanging around and passing the spring afternoon away as was the custom in my family. But I was also on my third beer, and I accidentally let the F word slip.
Nanna was on me like a shot. "I don't know where you think you are but we don't use that word around here!" All the men (not one of them less than 6 feet tall or under 180lbs) all looked at their shoes and began moving slowly away from me so as not to be implicated by proximity. Since it was a first offense, I managed to get away without any physical injury.
This reminds me a lot of that day.
(But just imagine the press reaction if Dick Cheney had said something like this instead of Nanna Pelosi.)