In junior high school, I was five feet, ten inches tall which was tall for a girl of my generation.  And my closest girlfriends were short—a couple were under five feet.  My mother attributed my poor posture to my having to bend over to hear what my friends were saying.

When I walked next to Mother, she would whisper “SB” to remind me to stand up straight. It was annoying.

My mother died in 1989.There are many reasons I wish she were still around.  One is that she would see that one of her grandsons and one of his sons have rounded shoulders, evidence that my poor posture was genetic.

I also would like her to be around to see how it doesn’t matter.