Estellooch

This anecdote defines my mother: she's in her seventies, a petite woman, walking home to her apartment.  In her path was a large group of teenage boys (perhaps 20 or 30); they had just gotten out of South Orange Middle School for the day.  Like most teenage boys, they were rowdy and loud, happy their school day was over.

As my mother approached, she was somewhat uneasy around so many rambunctious kids.  As she was literally walking through the crowd, two of the boys started wrestling with each other, very close to where Estelle was walking.  She was concerned about being accidentally trampled or knocked over.  She stopped short, faced the mob, and shouted, "Hey, cut it out!"

This got everyone's attention, and all the boys froze as they turned and silently stared at my mother.  She maintained her angry glare.  After a few awkward seconds, one and then several and then the rest of the boys burst out laughing.  And then so did my mother.  Everyone present had a good time with that one.  She continued her walk home, laughing all the way.  That was Estelle...in your face, feisty, and loved to laugh.