Memories of your "Grandparents" (kids, old, month, child)

[bnepler]

Having been born in 1945 and living in a small town in central PA, my Grandparents lived in two different towns. One set in the rural setting of the same small town in which I grew up They had a small house with a "mom & pop" very small store (miss the penny candies). The other set lived in a steel mill town with all the ethnic foods you could eat. At 61 years of age, when I travel back from FL I still stop for the sausage and bread. The were Croatian and the others German. Just some of the thoughts. What were yours?

[SpeedyAZ]

Great thread.

My mother's grandparents both grew up in a small town in Iowa. My grandpa was born in 1914 and grandma was born in 1918. My grandpa had 2 brothers and 1 sister, my grandma had 1 brother. I don't know much about the early life of my grandma (I'll ask her sometime) but I know that my grandfather used to bootleg alcohol in the late 20's until 1933. He had a still a few miles outside of town (he was a plumber by trade) and bootlegged the alcohol from Northwest Iowa to Chicago, Des Moines, and Pocohontas. His brother Clarence repaired stills out of his shop.

My grandparents got married in the late 30's I believe. They had 4 children (my mother being one of course)...to be continued

Great thread, it really got me to thinking.

[Mike from back east]

My maternal GF ran off about 1920 and was never seen again. He left behind a wife and 4 kids between the ages of 1 & 8. Mom and one brother were sent to one family, her other two brothers went with another family. Rural WV folks took-in family members like that, back then, their Christian duty, and there few if any state government child proctective laws like we have now.

My maternal GM had a nervous breakdown after the husband left, never really recovered enough to raise her kids, was always sickly, so she lived with family nearby, and was like an aunt to my Mom more than anything. She passed in late 1940's I believe.

My paternal GF died in the flu pandemic of 1918, fully 30 years before I was born.

My paternal GM was a nasty German woman who mission in life was to whip my sisters on the legs with a tree branch. Seems that beating the life out of children is the only way some people can think of to make kids behave like good little robots. Dad followed her lead, used a belt and a razor strap on my sisters, especially when he was drinking, which was often. They went to school with welts on the legs. The wicked granny was a widow for 40 years, empty and lifeless, dying in 1958 when I was 10. G'bye.

I never saw 3 of 4 of my GP's. The one I was aware of was a stuck-up witch. She was unkind to my "hick" mother, a poor farmgirl who came to Baltimore in 1942 to work in a war plant. Mom wasn't "good enough" for her Charley, and her venom showed. Endlessly.

Amazingly, one of Dad's brothers, Uncle Eddie, was like a GF to me, took me fishing. He never had a son, so I was the closest thing he had. He was better to me than my own father, the drinker. Eddie was a kind man with a good word for everyone, gentle, truly amazing the way he turned out given the witch of a mother he and my Dad grew up with.

Mom & Dad were 32 & 43, respectively, when I was born. Dad was prematurely gray from a stroke in 1958 (a very bad year) and many of my school chums thought that HE was my GF, as he was actually old enough. He's been gone since 1986. When Mom was near the end in 2003, and her mind was going, I'd wheel her around the nursing home and tell her we were going to get on the Greyhound and go to Nashville, see the Grand Ole Opry and Patsy Cline and Hank Williams, and..... the old folks can be a treasure....don't neglect them.

Glad you all had better experiences.

BTW, I bear a much closer resemblence to Uncle Eddie than to my dad, and I've got Eddie's personality .... hmmm

s/Mike

[MoMark]

My grandfather (paternal) was the only one of his family born in America. His family had come from southern Norway and settled in Minnesota and he still had a slight norskie accent when I knew him. My grandmother was Irish Catholic from Ohio with five siblings. She was a statuesque pale redhead with alabaster skin and golden red hair with the bluest eyes I've ever seen. Her sister, my aunt Rose, was famous for killing rattlesnakes with a shovel while wearing a flowing frilly nightgown on her ranch south of Fresno, CA. My grandparents started an auditing/accounting business back in the 1930's and they lived in the oldest house in Merced, CA. My family was poor when I was growing up, so going to grandma and grandpa's house was always a treat because they always had new Cadillacs (which were HUGE in those days) and they'd take us to San Jose to visit cousins, etc. Their house had very high ceilings, big crystal chandeliers, Persian carpets, just seemed rich to me as a kid. And they were fun to visit because they fed us chocolate milkshakes and took us to work with them and my sister and I manned the front desk given "adding assignments" by my grandparents to do. My grandpa was a good guy who always brought us an Easter Lily for Easter, and he died in 1974. My grandmother decided to take me (out of all her 12 grandchildren!!) with her to Europe in 1977. We stayed in Dromoland Castle in Ireland and went all through the country, then over to England which was in a Jubilee year for the queen at that time, so lots of decorations everywhere, then grandma took me to Paris and we stayed in the Ritz, went to Champagne, Rheims, Chartres, everywhere, then, because she was Catholic, off to Rome and Vatican City. I had the time of my life and we had so much fun together. I miss her. She died in 1980 and she was one hilarious woman behind a rather cool and formal exterior. She was a secret smoker and kept Lucky Strikes behind the shower curtain in the guest bathroom with a can of Lysol to hide the scent. I remember my sister and I surprised her when she was smoking once and she held the cigarette behind her and smoke wafted up behind her and rose above her head while she talked to us as if nothing was going on. My sister and I could clearly see the smoke behind grandma rising up, but we acted as though we didn't notice as we knew she was embarrassed. I remember I was sitting with her in her front office in her home which had gauzy sheers on the window looking out to the street. The church I was baptised in was across the street and a woman walking by caught my grandma's attention. She pulled the sheer back, took a deep look, and said.."My! Doesn't she have a big boompah!!" (boompah being my Norwegian grandpa's word for butt) That set me off into gales of laughter of course, and then she started laughing too. She died three days later in her easy chair in the living room. My dad found her sitting in a house dress, a bowl of melted ice cream next to her (she was always eating ice cream), a bag of groceries on the counter in the kitchen she'd apparently purchased the evening before, and the tv was on. She simply fell asleep in the chair and never woke up. She was a hoot. I still have my mom's mom left who is 88 and I love her to death too.

[Marks]

Memories of your "Grandparents"?

Man, some of the threads really make you think back. Wow!

First, to "Mike from back east" what a very sad memory I'm sorry you have that experience. Sometimes, if dealt with right, we rise up and say in ourselves "I will never be like that" and we turn out to be great Dad's and Mom's

Paternal GF - German American, Catholic, died when I was young. I remember one day he was at our kitchen table, and looking at his hands, I thought he had huge hands and rough he was a machinist for the Southern Pacific RR. Died of a massive heart attack at an auto parts store in OR.

Paternal GM - German American, Catholic, she was vain, caught in adultery, a drinker. I took care of her when she was older. Died in 1993 at 89 of natural causes.

Maternal GF - Born in Ireland, Catholic, legally immigrated to America. Did not know him at all. Died of a massive heart attack at maybe 50 something? My mother says he was a very smart man, was a schoolteacher in Ireland.

Maternal GM - Was born in Ireland, Catholic, legally immigrated to America Died in the 80's at the age of 93 of natural causes. Was a loving lady we called her Nana. What I remember the most was she would lift me up and put me on her knee and we would lean back in the chair and she would feed me jellybeans. She Also liked her highball drink

[I LOVE NORTH CAROLINA]

I only knew my mothers mother, the others died before I was born. But "Mammy" was one of the kindest sweetest ladies that ever lived. I have wonderful memories of going to her house and finding she had cooked my favorite desert coconut pie. She was a wonderful Christian lady always helping people, taking care of sick neighbors. I was named after her and my other grandmother which I think is an honor because even though I didn't know her I have heard she was just as wonderful as my other grandmother. I was very sad when she died, I was 14 but I love the fact I have the wonderful memories she left me.

[pixieshmoo]

I don't remember much about my Paternal grandmother. I know she was born in Italy, grew up in New York, had six children, my dad being the youngest by almost 15 years. When we were little, she was obvioulsy ancient to us (being born in 1899). She used to have the fake teeth and would keep them in a jar on the bathroom sink. When we'd go visit we, along with my cousins, would hide her teeth and giggle, which always ended up in some kind of punishment. She died when I was about six and although it's not much of a memory, I think it's pretty well considering I was so young.

My paternal grandfather died when my own father was only 4 years old, so I never knew him. But he was born in Italy, when he came here he left behind his mom and two (or three) sisters to make a better life. I don't know if they ever followed him here or stayed in Italy. All I have are black and white photos and one uncle to answer any questions, (my oldest cousin wasn't even born yet).

My maternal grandparents were around my whole life until I was in my mid twenties. My nickname from my grandfather was "grandpa's girl" even till the day he died (everyone always said when we were growing up that I was his favorite, but he never showed favoritism so I guess it was because of the nickname...I'm the oldest grandaughter). I remember my grandfather always having a beer and a little glass of vino that he used to make in the basement. He drank bitter coffee black with nothing in it. When he didn't shave he looked like santa claus and he truly always had a jolly smile. He was actually a very cute grandpa, even his eyes looked like they were smiling. We used to laugh at his weird finger when we were little...we found out that it got chopped off in the fan belt of a car in the 70's and my dad had to take him and the piece of finger to the ER. He'd sit in the "cellar" to watch his Yankee games and when dinner was ready we'd all stomp on the floor and yell "dinner's ready" and that was his cue to come upstairs. His famous saying was "watch yourself, there's crazy people out there" no matter what we were doing, so now it's a long running joke in the family, we all say it to each other at get togethers. He was one of nine.

My maternal grandmother was little, gorgeous and tough. She was also one of nine, and they all looked alike. She never used an alarm clock in her life, she went to bed usually around the same time, give or take a little while, and woke up at 5:00 on the dot every morning without fail. If she didn't roll out of bed until 5:05 or 5:10, she'd complain that she slept late. She got started on making gravy (sauce) at god-knows-what-time and would cook it half the day to feed all of us every sunday at 2:00. She made THE greatest Lasagna and when she passed away we all actually fought over the last container of gravy she had made (it was in the freezer) and the lasagna pan she cooked with. She always had a treat to sneak us and could remember which kid liked what snack the best (she always had them in her purse). She was so tough and determined that we actually lost her in a blizzard one year. It was 1993 or 1994 and we had had 15 snow storms in about 2 months. This one day we had 19 inches and my mom said to call down the house to check on them. We took turns calling for hours with no answer. We couldn't get there because we had a State of Emergency and couldn't drive. About 4:30 in the afternoon she called. I answered and got yelled at for calling so many times and bothering grandpa. When I asked what she meant she said that she was p'd off that the snow kept the paperboy from coming so she had to walk to the foodtown halfway across town to get her morning paper and then walk all the way back (hello, it was a blizzard). She said that she fought with grandpa because he laid in bed all day and told her when she came home that "someone kept calling and calling the house". He didn't feel like getting up to answer so he let it ring and we all thought they were dead and buried in a snowdrift. Weirdos . Anyway, they were awesome. Unfortunately we lost them both quickly yet had to watch them suffer. Grams was acting weird toward the end of the summer and by the second week in september she was diagnosed with brain cancer so bad that "the tumors looked like a field of mushrooms on her brain" according to the doctors. We lost her two long, hard weeks later. It tore me apart to watch her lose all her motor skills and suffer like that. By December gramps wouldn't get out of bed, AT ALL, literally, he said he just wanted to die. By Christmas he had inoperable lung cancer and died in Hospice in February. That made me even worse.

However, they both lived into their 80's and we were very close with them (they watched us after school and in the summers) and we were there every week (except the week of the blizzard). My memories are more than fond and I think about them all the time.

[grammy164]

My grandparents were totally different. When we would visit my dad's family it was more of a "kids should be seen and not heard" kind of thing. We were supposed to be young ladies and gentlemen.. My grandmother could be pretty strict. My grandfather passed away when I was 7, but I do remember he had a much softer personality than my grandmother. My mom adored him and I have memories of him dressing up as Santa for us kids.
My mom's family was much more relaxed. I always enjoyed going there. I think I was their favorite because I was born in Virginia and I looked the most like my mom.
My dad's mom did take us to some interesting places--Greenfield Village (my dad's from Michigan), Mackinac Island, Niagra Falls, but I really enjoyed going to Virginia (my mom's home) and going to the beach and have family barbeques and having hush puppies and making homemade ice cream and barefootin'. My mom's dad was as sweet as could be!
When I became an adult, I was able to spend some quality time with my dad's mom down here in FL (she retired here) and I'm thankful for that. All in all, I'd have to say I had very nice grandparents!

[Adream]

Well, I hope you're proud of yourselves because after reading every story here I'm blubbering like a baby. Thanks a lot guys...*sniff*.

The topic of Grammas and Grampas hits a real soft spot with me. I'm going to come back and post because, frankly, and sorry for you - I can go on & on with that topic!

These stories are just great! I'll be back for more in the morning.

[mariatherese]

My grandma was the most wonderful person on earth. If I turn out to be just half the woman that she was, I will consider it a success. I'm so lucky that we were so close. I think about her often... she is my role model.