Have you ever thought how cool your grand parents were.

I had a Grandmother that couldn't speech English....I never knew what she was talking about when I tried to help her in the kitchen..
She only spoke Italian....Always in the kitchen while all the relatives sat around the Dining Room Table....
When I had my son, My Dad told Grandma, Pat had a baby boy....When he told her his name, she said I don't know that Italian name....
We didn't have my son with an Italian first name when he was born....Except his last name....
I never knew my Mom's Mother or Father...
 

The grandparents on my father's side were totally cool. Had the looks of Hollywood gangsters/flappers and lived life to the fullest. (That's probably where I got my devilish good looks.) 😉
 
Gaer said:
Wait! i want to add a pic of my Grandfather. This ranchhouse he built is still used today. It now has an View attachment 100954indoor bathroom though. He played about every instrument there was! He used to serenade all the animals from miles around! College graduate,photographer,builder, That's all! Through bragging!
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Now that's cool, someone to be quite proud of. I love th sound of the banjo.
 

I never met my mothers parents. They’d died long before I was born. My fathers parents I met when we lived in England but i was only 2 or 3 years old. This grandmother came to visit us when my paternal grandfather died.

Don’t wish to share or try & explain the rest.
 
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My maternal Grandfather was born in BeloRussia in 1904. In 1917 he got the idea to get out during the first of the two revolutions that year. He and his brother went to the ship. His brother chickened out and the later died in one of Stalin's purges. My grandad came to Pennsylvania and started a life with hard work and dedication. He had my mom (yea!) and two sons. One played for the Pittsburgh Steelers for 12 years and the other was captain of Yale's football team. He was a good man. A stern man. A clear and direct man.
 
Keesha said:
I never met my mothers parents. They’d died long before I was born. My fathers parents I met when we lived in England but i was only 2 or 3 years old. This grandmother came to visit us when my paternal grandfather died . She shared my room and I didn’t like it very much. It was weird. I know I’m supposed to love my grandmother but I didn’t know her. She had no phone and her and my mom didn’t get along so there was no encouragement to have a relationship and it often saddens me. My maternal grandfather who I never met was a POW for over 5 years and apparently when he got out , he was really messed up.
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Lots of similarities here, including the British ties (I'm not casting wide aspersions here.)
I got German on the other side.

It's tough to overcome those lessons (and learn the rights ones that were never taught) in order to "do better."

For me, the desire to "do better" and moving in that direction is what counts rather that achieving some mythical subjective standard. Intent trumps Actions any day of the week in my relationships, because one of those things can be trusted, even when it manifests itself imperfectly.
 
My maternal grandparents were cool. They came over, every Sunday, for dinner and TV. They walked over a mile, each way. They always brought little presents and candies from a chocolate shop.

My grandfather owned a tailor shop. He did very well. He had a new car every other year, and the first AC unit in our neighborhood. That cold air, in the middle of a sweltering Chicago summer day, amazed me. His fitting room, a room of all mirrored walls, was my first psychedelic experience. I loved it.

My grandmother died when I was twelve. I brought her medicine from the drug store I worked at, when her doctor called in the prescription. She looked very tired, very weak. She was gone the next day. My grandfather passed, a year later, in a convalescent home He lived with us for a few months, but he was too ill to stay with us.

My paternal grandparents are foggy, in my recall. My grandmother died when I was only two, or so. I only remember one interaction with her. My grandfather was a real estate and business hustler. I was always told I take after him. He became late when I was four.

I remember praying the sincere prayer of a child that he would recover, that the supreme power would heal him. The next day, he passed, and I changed my feelings about religion, forever.

I do remember my grandparents aging. It caused me sorrow to see them slip into sad, infirm existences. I vowed I would never allow myself to quietly bear witness to my own incipient decrepitude. I will honor that vow, if the need ever arises.
 
In The Sticks said:
I never knew any of my grandparents.

I've mentioned before that my mother was British (WW2 bride). Her mother died when she was young and her father passed before I was born. 'My father's parents were German immigrants. One of them passed before I was born and I have vague memories of my dad going to the funeral of the remaining one when I was 4 or 5 years old.

I do get some generational connection by proxy here in my new country life. I was going to a church that was founded in the 1700s. On Homecoming Day, the founder's descendants show up. They can trace their roots back into the 1600s. I'm now attending a sister church. There are 5 generations of one family who all attend church together on Sundays (they each got married when they were 15 years old.) So the youngest one routinely sees her grandmother, her great grandmother, and her great great grandmother (who is our treasurer.)
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In The Sticks said:
Lots of similarities here, including the British ties (I'm not casting wide aspersions here.)
I got German on the other side.

It's tough to overcome those lessons (and learn the rights ones that were never taught) in order to "do better."

For me, the desire to "do better" and moving in that direction is what counts rather that achieving some mythical subjective standard. Intent trumps Actions any day of the week in my relationships, because one of those things can be trusted, even when it manifests itself imperfectly.
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Yes my mothers mom died when she was young and I didn’t really know any of them. There some similarities but your family has history. That’s amazing that you can trace your family all the way back to the 1600’s. Five generations. That’s really cool.

Don’t really want to share all this.
 
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