Did Anyone Else Not Know Grandparents?

Remy

Remy

Well-known Member
Location
California, USA
Deb's post made me think of this.

I didn't. My mother was an immigrant. The only grandparent figure I ever knew was my stepfather's mother. She was nice to me and my memory was that his whole side of the family was. My mother wouldn't have that.

I remember when my stepfather got the call that his mother has passed away suddenly. She was 89 and lived independent next to her daughter and son in law. When my stepfather hung up the phone and stated what had happened, all my mother did was berate him about all the things she didn't like about the woman. It was awful. I was about 13 and still vividly remember it.

Being that my mother was a borderline personality disorder, this is pretty typical.
 

I didn't have grandfathers. Before the 1952 election, I went to the 9 inch TV to kiss Dwight Eisenhower and call him 'grandpa'. My father immediately turned off the TV and said "He's not your Grandpa and in this house we're democrats and we want Adlai Stevenson."

I found out years later I did in fact have a grandpa, but my grandma & mother hated him. He lived in a Salvation Army home. I would have liked to have met him. I think. His name was Willie the Bum.
 

I knew my paternal granparents well. They were divorced before I was born and lived in separate parts of the city.. but we visited them every week... and my gran came to us every Wednesday...

I knew my maternal grandmother, she was a witch... my maternal grandfather, who I never remember meeting , but I must have because I was around 10 years old when he passed.. was an evil sonofabitch... who between the two, put their daughters into orphanages as toddlers, where they were routinely beaten by nuns.. and kept the sons, and beat them horribly and in the most cruel ways....you would be shocked if I told you..

My paternal grandfather was kindly enough, he didn't really interact with us kids, but he accepted us, and was always pleasant but he was an alcoholic, so my mother hated being around him,, but it was my Paternal grandmother who altho' far from rosy cheeked was the one who interacted with us the most, and sent us Birthday and Christmas gifts.. and would take us kids for days out to the seaside..or to the theatre ,,

I also knew my Paternal Great grandfather, my granny's father... he got run over by a bus on his daily walk to the pub for his one shot of whisky.. he was 96...
 
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I met my father's step-father a couple of times. I believe I heard that he was a drinker. My paternal grandmother died before I was born. My maternal grandparents lived in Japan. I used to write to my grandpa, who was a teacher. His English was very good. I became very fond of him through our letters.
 
My maternal grandmother helped raise me for the first few years. My grandfather died about the same time. My father was gone so I never really knew his family. I was told his mother made some effort, though I only have one very vague memory of being at her place.
 
I never knew either my maternal or paternal grandfathers. My maternal grandmother and my paternal grandmother couldn't stand each other. After she passed, I learned that my paternal grandmother gave birth to my father when she was only sixteen, and the father of the child deserted her. My mother grew up in various foster homes and never knew who her father was.
 
I was raised by my paternal grandparents, still miss my grandmother every day. My mother was born at the end of
world war 1 in Paris. Her father died of war wounds before she was born. Her mother died of the pandemic when my mother was 6 months old. Hers was a very different story. Her adoptive father was in the army and apparently married her mother so her birth certificate probably listed him as her father, so he took her home to the US where he and his spinster sister spoiled her rotton!
 
I knew my Dad's parents and my Mom's mother, never saw maternal grandad in person or even a photo, until I went to visit my aunt and uncle in SC in 1999. My aunt caught me up on family history, my other uncle told me that 2 of the brothers planed to kill dear old GD, didn't say why.
I'm guessing he was abusive, ended up becoming a hermit after my grandmother left him. At the cemetery outside of Cherryville where he and many ancestors were buried, someone stole GD's headstone...he evidently wasn't well liked or respected by some family members.
 
My paternal grandfather died when I was 13/14. My maternal grandfather died when I was 21. Both grandmothers lived into their 90s. So I had the pleasure of knowing and loving them all

One of my favorite pictures was taken in about 1992. My grandson's first Christmas, with his dad (my son), me, my mother and her mother. 5 generations.
 
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I knew my father's mother....she was old. She would wonder away from home, and they would call my dad to come and get her.
I didn't spend much time w/her. She only spoke Armenian. I was just a child when she passed.

I spent more time w/my mother's mother. She had long gray hair, that she would braid in to a bun. Always had an apron on.
She passed when I was in 6th grade.

Her husband, my grandfather was notorious for having the paddy wagon come to their home after a night of drinking and doing what ever else they were doing.
 
Remy said:
Deb's post made me think of this.

I didn't. My mother was an immigrant. The only grandparent figure I ever knew was my stepfather's mother. She was nice to me and my memory was that his whole side of the family was. My mother wouldn't have that.

I remember when my stepfather got the call that his mother has passed away suddenly. She was 89 and lived independent next to her daughter and son in law. When my stepfather hung up the phone and stated what had happened, all my mother did was berate him about all the things she didn't like about the woman. It was awful. I was about 13 and still vividly remember it.

Being that my mother was a borderline personality disorder, this is pretty typical.
Click to expand...

My grandmother was very important to me and my sister. She was a first through third-grade teacher and if she had not visited us in the summer I might not have learned to read and write. I was not learning in school because they were not teaching phonics at that time and my ability to read depended on learning phonics.

She not only helped me learn to read and write, but she also made me believe I was a good writer, and writing has been important to me ever since. She also played learning games with me like Flinch and Scrabble. I didn't know these were learning games and just enjoyed playing games with her.

When she retired she moved closer to us and had more time to do interesting things with me. Her values became my values and while she believed she was defending democracy in the classroom, my sense of purpose is telling everyone how important our past education is to our democracy, and that education for technology without education for democracy is a serious threat to our democracy. She really gave me a sense of purpose in life. To save our democracy as it came from Athens as a love of knowledge that is also a pursuit of happiness and a path to a higher human potential. Yeah, that is my passion. Thanks, Grandma.
 
Nathan said:
I knew my Dad's parents and my Mom's mother, never saw maternal grandad in person or even a photo, until I went to visit my aunt and uncle in SC in 1999. My aunt caught me up on family history, my other uncle told me that 2 of the brothers planed to kill dear old GD, didn't say why.
I'm guessing he was abusive, ended up becoming a hermit after my grandmother left him. At the cemetery outside of Cherryville where he and many ancestors were buried, someone stole GD's headstone...he evidently wasn't well liked or respected by some family members.
Click to expand...

What time period would that be when your maternal grandad became disliked? I think history has a lot to do with why people are as they are.
 

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