Punctuality

This last weekend, a friend of ours told us that despite planning on leaving at 10am, she didn't expect to, as Margaret and I have a reputation of being late. This surprised both of us, who try to be punctual as much as possible (except to work, but I have a floating schedule so that works out). We weren't sure what to think of it, until last night, at the same friend's birthday get-together, we were 45 mintues late, and since we made up a third of the party, they couldn't start the dinner until we got there. The whole drive there, the words, "you guys have a reputation for being late" was ringing in our ears--and here we were, living up to it. I was tempted to call and say we were having car troubles just to throw them off track about the real reason for our tardiness.

Whenever I'm late, I think of a story my grandmother always told about the first time she was tardy to school. For one reason or another she was a few minutes late for the beginning of her first or second grade class--I can't remember which. Anyway, as she walked up the aisle to her desk, every person on each side of the aisle reached over and pinched her--and she tells us that it wasn't a friendly pinch, but vice-like twisting pinches that left bruises and drew blood. The entire time she was making her way on the death march down the aisle, she thought, "this must be the punishment for being late." It wasn't until she sat down, bloody and sore from all the abuse, that she looked around and noticed that all the other children had shamrocks pinned to their clothes. Prior to school starting, the teacher had given all the children one to pin on for St. Patrick's Day and since she wasn't there to get one, she paid the consequences. She says that to this day, when she's late to something, she always wonders if she'll be pinched for it.