Memories of Your Grandparents?

[fureverywhere]

Memories or just bits and pieces of your grandparents...even for us later boomers it's been many, many years ago. But what stands out there? My Mom's mother passed the year I was born. No memories, pictures of her holding me as a baby. The other grandparents were my Dad's Dad and Mum. His Dad was a retired chief of police, rather gruff if memory serves me right. But from him I remember he was a pipe smoker. Even now the smell of cherry wood pipe tobacco takes me back. There's a cigar the kids smoke called Black and Mild, same fragrance.

Grammy his wife was no nonsense. I guess from living through the depression she hoarded things. Boxes, vases, her whole back porch was stuffed with things. I remember as a cook she was kinda sad...pot roast like beef jerky. But dishes of candy. Spiced gumdrops and I think of Grammy. My Mom's Dad was the best. He was independent well into his nineties. I was allowed to stay with him for a week at a time. He didn't cook so KFC every night. There were two dogs in the next yard. We'd give them the scraps. Of course now the rule is no poultry bones, but them pups lived to old age.

Every afternoon he took a nap. As long as I didn't fall in the garrot-the attic, full of my Grandmother's old movie magazines...or touch the gun he always had hidden in the dining room...I was good. He lived to 96 G-d bless...

 

[Sassycakes]

I don't have many memories of my Mother's Mom because she passed away when I was only 4yrs old. My Mom's Dad was a sweet man and I really loved him. He only lived a few blocks away from us so I saw him often. Every time we saw him he would open his little change wallet and give us a nickle. He had 11 children and 40 grandchildren. Sadly when he was 85 yrs old he wondered away from an outing he was at with my Aunt and her family. There were many search parties for over a month. After a month passed a little boy found his body. It was sad time for all of us and a very hard time for the family. As far as my Dad's parents they didn't care much for my Mom so even though we visited them often we were never accepted as part of the family. Now that I am a Grandparent I can't understand how they didn't care for us. I would give my life for my grandchildren. They are in my mind all the time. I love them more than life it's self.

 

[Bobw235]

I have fond memories of my mother's parents, but in hindsight, wish I'd been a better grandson to them when I was older. My grandmother was a sweet lady, very proper (her family came over from England when she was very young) and my grandfather was the gregarious guy who loved to laugh. I remember going to see the Yankees with him and my father on Father's day when I was young, and had the pleasure of seeing the great Mickey Mantle hit two home runs that day at old Yankee Stadium. I remember some great Sunday dinners at their home, a huge roast was usually on the table and my grandfather drinking a Pabst Blue Ribbon out of a can. This was their wedding day and then in their older years.



Sadly, I have no fond memories of my grandparents on my father's side of the family. They were cold, distant people who moved away when I was young. After the age of about 12 or so, I think I only saw my grandmother one time before she died. I remember that when we used to go there for holidays, the kids were not allowed to sit on her plastic covered couch and generally had to stay on the porch. I hated going to their home.

 

[jujube]

My maternal great-grandparents had a farm in North Carolina. I have great memories of visiting; they didn't have indoor plumbing until I was about six and for some reason, I thought visiting the outhouse was fun. My strongest memory of my great-grandfather was of him taking me to the cow pasture to ride a cow. I didn't like to kiss my great-grandmother because she dipped snuff and her lips and tongue were stained purple.

The only paternal great-grandmother I knew was a very old lady when I was born. I have a memory of visiting and sleeping with her in her huge feather bed. The feather mattress humped up around us and I couldn't see over the side. She smoked a corncob pipe and wore long dresses down to the floor.

My grandparents, now.....all four lived until I was at least in my 20's so I got to grow up with them and they were the best grandparents in the world, bar none.

I'm going to be a great-grandmother in March. I hope in 50 years, my granddaughter and great-granddaughter will talk about what a character I was.....

 

[fureverywhere]

Funny I remember my mother's friend Evelyn, how do we remember names how many years on? A garden of feral cats. Like my yard now...Oh and Aunt Madge who put eye shadow and lipstick on her Persian...

 

[imp]

Many contentions here agree with my own: Wish I had.....but, too late. My Mother's mother had remarried about the time I was born, I never saw my real Grandpa, but the replacement, "Uncle Joe', was a wonderful, warm, caring guy. He seemed to live only for my Grandma; indeed, when she died, he followed her only months later. On my Dad's side, there was an impossibly intertangled group of same names, for this kid to understand. My Dad was named "Jerry", after his Mother's brother, "Uncle Jerry". His mother had a sister named Albina, who died in childbirth. Her brothers, Otto, Jerry, and Joe, were all born abroad, I think. These were my Dad's uncles, as well as Nemesis.


Both Uncle Jerry and Uncle Otto established machine shop businesses. During the early parts of the Depression, my Dad, out of work with a wife and daughter to feed, approached his Uncle Otto asking for any meager job; he was accepting of sweeping the floors, even though he was an apprenticed, accomplished Tool & Die Maker. Old bastard Uncle Otto told him, "De Pric, Zebraku". In Czech, that meant, "Go away, begger"!

During my early years, I never got over my Dad's remorse for having encountered such a harsh relative. Very little familial love existed. All were concerned with who had more money, envy, bad-mouthing, and yet, these folks regularly met in encompassed group at holidays, reveling and laughing, to go home satiated with the feeling each family had proved overbearing to the others.

Dysfunctional. Best recollection of it all for me, was Uncle Joe Mottl, my Dad's Mother's brother, showed us how to work with common dynamite! imp

 

[SifuPhil]

Some great stories here!

On my mother's side all of her relatives lived in Michigan. I remember annual summer trips up there from NY in Dad's old blue and white Pontiac Chief, with a lighted Indian hood ornament. I would be sprawled out in the back seat, ready to sleep, but couldn't until I saw that Chief glowing up front.

One time something happened to the fuel lines en-route, and I remember Dad having to drive backwards for several miles until we reached a gas station.

As for my maternal grandparents themselves - I don't remember my Mom's dad - he died when I was still a baby. Grandma I have fleeting memories of - she was the patriarch of the clan, a group of relatives whom I never really got to know well but recall lots of food, smoking, gambling and especially drinking. They were Polish/German and of course at my young age I mainly remember the food - heavy, spicy food.

And the fact that everyone seemed to be barefoot no matter where they went. Many years later, after I got involved with martial arts, I began to go barefoot all over the place, so I credit them with that particular oddity.

Now on my father's side - my paternal grandparents lived down the street from us when I was a kid, so I got to know them much better. Grandma was from Ireland - County Cork - and she was the terror of the two, bellowing out orders to Gramps who would either quickly obey or hide in the shed in the backyard. Gramps was Italian but didn't have any Sicilian blood, so he was a lover, not a fighter. He made his living by being a shill for traveling carnivals as well as being a semi-pro gambler.

Colorful history, I know.

I remember their house - it was a former coffin showroom. Gramps would ask me to get something for him - a tool or a box - from the basement, and I would begin sweating and shaking. He had a solitary 15-watt light bulb hanging from the ceiling down there, but before you got to the pull-string to turn it on you had to walk down the stairs and half-way across the basement to get to it. There was a huge old furnace down there at the far end of the room, glowing, and the metalwork on it made it look like a red scowling face. As well, their were niches in the walls where they used to store the coffins. I would swear that they were still there, and filled with late-paying customers.

I would finally get up the courage to grab whatever Gramps wanted, turn off the light and go flying back up the stairs in the dark with all the imaginary boogums chasing me all the way. I'd get to the top and slam the door closed, whereas Grandma would yell at me for slamming it.

I didn't care - I had survived another adventure into the occult.

Grandpa smoked DiNobili cigars, what we in the family all called "Guinea stinkers". layful: I remember the awful smell of them as well as the wafting grey clouds they produced, but it's one of the things that come back to me in sharp focus when I think of him. He also liked his red wine - there was always one of those twine-wrapped bottles around the house.

Food ... grandma had somehow, somewhere picked up Italian cooking, so I have fond memories of wolfing through steaming plates of pasta, meats and other delectables. She even made her own cannoli - mmmmmmm! One of my biggest forbidden pleasures was to grab sugar cubes from the bowl on the table. Grandpa would wink, but Grandma would yell at me, and Grandpa and I would run into his room (they slept in separate rooms), where he would give me candy from his hidden stash and regale me with stories of his exploits in the carnivals and gambling places.

He also introduced me to New York City, many years before my older brother began taking me there. We'd ride 2 buses to the subway then take that down to Little Italy where all of his old goobahs hung out in the cafes. He'd bring me around, introduce me to these scary-looking guys and each of them would tuck a $5 bill in my shirt, patting me on the head and calling for the bartender to get me a soda. Then they'd go back to playing pool or eating their scungilli (big, nasty snails - an Italian staple) or just whispering to each other furtively at the tables.

I made many life-long friends in those places and was proud - and not just a little arrogant - that I had a "hook" into the dark side of New York.

Alas, Grandma died when I was 5 and Grandpa when I was 7, but overall I have great memories, even though they are few and spotty.

 

[Kadee]

I remember my grandparents ( on my mothers side of family) Poor gran cooked on a wood burning stove summer and winter daytime temps reached mid 40c in summer .. They lived near what we called the western oval where the annual show was held, we would call into grans and grandads and they would give us sixpence each for the show ( I still have a glass jug I won at the show when I was 14) Grandad would give strick instructions to be back at their place at a certain time for tea , It gave us time to have tea and to walk home about 3 km before dark , we didn't dare defy his instructions.
I'm the eldest grandchild and even tho they both smoked I believe no one was allowed to smoke near me as a baby.( maybe the reason I'm the only one of 9 who ever smoked)
Gran passed away suddenly at 69 , in 1967 .. When I was 21 ......G/D pined visiting her grave every day untill his death 9 months latter.
As For GP 's on my fathers side,I only met my father shortly before his death in 1969 I met his parents once before his death ...who called me Kadee .. My name on SF

 

[chic]

I remember all 4 of my grandparents. My maternal grandmother was a beautiful and intelligent woman who owned a grocery store during the depression. She had to give it up when she became pregnant with my mom because my grandfather, who spoke broken English all his life, couldn't run the business without. Both were the hardest workers ever and realized the American dream in a beautiful big home where they entertained endlessly. Grandpa was quiet, loving and gentle, while Grandma was an aggressive businesswoman who loved me to bits for some reason and had faith in my abilities her whole life. This remains with me to this day whenever I question myself.

My paternal Grandparents were country people from a small town in the woods. Paternal Grandpa was also quiet, but he was a hunter. During the depression, he kept the whole town fed through his hunting skills - even the game wardens who turned a blind eye on his activities. Grandpa would dare almost anything - during prohibition, he rode shotgun in a truck smuggling liquor from Canada into the U.S.. He became an architect but built mostly homes and churches and small buildings. Nothing grand. Paternal Grandma had a huge bosom in which she would enwrap all her grandkids in her special bear hugs. She was the best hugger ever. She was a splendid cook and entertainer and was always part of a crowd. Their home was always filled with love and good food. I remember Grandpa always gutting a dead deer with a cigarette dangling out of his mouth. He died of lung cancer. Gran lived to be almost 90.

Nice memories I have of all 4 Grandparents. I was a lucky child to have known all of them.

 

[Ameriscot]

I have wonderful memories of my grandparents. My maternal grandfather died 9 years before I was born, but the other 3 lived to mid 80's.

My maternal grandmother moved in with us when I was 5 as my mother had ill health. So we were very close. Both sets of grandparents lived next door to each other in Detroit as my grandfathers worked at the Ford Rouge Plant. My paternal great grandfather worked there as well.

My paternal grandparents were the typical image of grandparents back then - grandma always had homemade cookies in a big cookie jar. Being in Michigan they had a fridge in the basement filled with Stroh's beer and Vernors ginger ale. Grandpa smoked a pipe and I loved the smell, and still do. Grandpa had a lot of hearing loss so he said 'huh' a lot. Can't remember having a long conversation with him - he was a calm presence.

Paternal grandpa's family moved to Michigan from Indiana. Paternal grandma's family went to Michigan from Ireland in the 1850's. Maternal grandma's family moved to Michigan from TN when her dad died and she was 17. Maternal grandfather moved to Michigan from Illinois having come from England in the 1850's.

I have very fond memories of my relatives when I was growing up. We spent time with distant cousins like grandma's cousin and her family, other grandma's sisters and their families, lots of great aunts and uncles, mother's cousin and her children. We still visit with those cousins on every visit to Michigan.

I love being a grandmother and I have a strong bond with the oldest granddaughter even though I can't spend a lot of time with her.

 

[oldman]

I have very fond memories of my Grandparents, but they would be too long and too boring for most to read. However, I will say that my Grandfather, who we called "Pappy," was the greatest Grandfather a kid could ever want. He was a Greek immigrant coming to this country as a professional wrestler. After being injured by being thrown to the mat, he turned to professional boxing. All through his career he invested his money wisely buying restaurants. He actually built the family fortune from his restaurants becoming very successful. I am 100% positive that I was his favorite Grandson. I visited him and stayed with him more than anyone else. He didn't believe in telephones, so I had to go see him, if I wanted to talk to him, which I did quite often. He took me to my first professional baseball game in Philadelphia on a train, which back then was a big deal for a little boy. I really miss him. (His wife, my Grandmother, died shortly after they arrived here due to complications from pneumonia, so I never knew her.)

This picture was taken back in the '50's. Check out the cigarette in his hand. He always preached to me about not smoking.

 

[Ameriscot]

Nice stories!

My grandmother lived with us and often at night my sister and I would sneak into her bedroom when we were supposed to be asleep as she always stayed up very late reading in bed. She would tell us stories about when she was younger, etc.

 

[Grumpy Ol' Man]

We never stayed really close to my dad's family. Paternal grandmother passed when I was about 8 years old, so don't remember much about her. Paternal grandfather lived to 95 years old. Kept full head of white hair until he passed. Always smoked a pipe and his home had that "cherry blend" pipe tobacco odor. His mother, my paternal great-grandmother, lived to be 104.

We were close to my mother's family. My maternal grandmother was a hypochondriac. Always ill. So, the folks built a home next door that we moved into in 1951. That was our first home with running water. (Yes, kids today cannot understand how a family lived in a home with no bathroom.) Maternal grandmother was extremely religious. Protestant denomination. Really was upset when Kennedy was elected President. "Our Country is done! A Catholic in the White House!! The Pope will be running our Country!" If she could only see politics today..... She passed at age 75.
Maternal grandfather was a hard-working farmer. Always smiling. Always whistling or singing. Spent his entire life caring for his livestock and his wife and her ills. Once she passed and his knees wouldn't let him do the hard farm work, he wilted away. He passed at age 82.

 

[Bullie76]

On my mom's side, I never knew my grandfather. He died 10 days before I was born. My grandmother was a wonderful person. She never had a bad thing to say about anyone. She was very loving. She passed away when I was 10. My dad's parents were not the outwardly affectionate types, but I know they loved us all. They were just hard working country type people. I think I was in elementary school when my grandfather died and in college when my grandmother passed.

Both of my grandmother's were great cooks. Funny how you remember certain things.... but I remember when my mom was in the hospital recouping from breast cancer surgery(mid 1960's), my grandmother(dad's side) had my father, brother and myself over for lunch. I remember her serving fried chicken with rice and gravy, a veggie(wasn't much into veggies back then) and cherry cream cheese pie for dessert. I had never had that particular pie before and thought it was the best dessert I had ever had. I made my mom learn how to make it after that experience. My mother lived to be 95 years old BTW.

 

[AZ Jim]

Too many memories to list. My Dad's folks lived with us from 1937 until 1945. My Grandfather on that side was unremarkable but Grandma was very sweet. On the other side (Mom's) was my favorite Grandma. She was half Cherokee from Oklahoma and I loved her not because she tried to spoil me but because she always had time for me. She was the last to pass on in 1960. She was always willing to sit by the fire and talk to me like an adult. She was very dear to me and I miss her still.

Mom's Side

Dad's side...
Me on the right. My brother the left.

 

[imp]

Wonderful and warm stories, all! Greatly enjoyed them! imp

 

[Ameriscot]

Nice photos, Jim! What cute kids.

 

[Mrs. Robinson]

All of my grandparents passed away before I was born-except for my maternal grandmother. I was named for her-only because she told my mom that if she didn`t name the new baby after her (if it were a girl),she wouldn`t love it as much as she loved the others! Oh yeah,that was my Nonie! She loved to rattle my dad`s cage and he loved to rattle hers. Holidays were always pretty interesting with the two of them together-NOT! She was many times married (we think 5x but nobody knows for sure if she was really married to #3). When she was 60,she picked up a hitchhiking soldier who was 30 and they got married. That marriage actually lasted longer than any of her others-18 years. She was a vegetarian most of her life-her dad took her to a slaughterhouse when she was 3 and she never touched meat again for the rest of her life. She was actually a woman far ahead of the times as far as eating healthy and lived to be 91. The only reason she died was because she refused to take antibiotics for an infection in her leg. I was closer to her than any of her 8 grandkids-not sure why. We shared a love of books and animals and I went to stay at her house frequently. As one of 5 kids,I guess I loved having her undivided attention. She really was quite eccentric though-she protested the Viet Nam war when she was in her 70`s and was arrested during antiwar demonstrations. It`s funny,I have a 51 yo niece now who is Nonie`s twin-as far as her diet and political views and well,just everything about her. But she really didn`t have much exposure to Nonie growing up as they lived across the Country. We call her Nonie reincarnated lol.

 

[NancyNGA]

Wow, Mrs. Robinson. Go grandma!

My grandfather on my dad's side died a few months before I was born. He was 20 years older than my grandmother. I wish I could have known him. Too many great memories of my grandparents on my mom's side to single out even a few.

 

[fureverywhere]

I was remembering someone who lived down the street from my grandfather today. It was a waaay small town. Virtually everybody lived down the street from each other. She was my mothers friend, like the others a bit eccentric. She had inherited a factory. Her house was on the property. One thing that stands out is when she died she had no family, so my parents and her lawyer cleared out her belongings. Apparently she didn't trust banks. I was watching the adults wrapping china and money started to fall out.

She had who knows how much tucked between china plates. The other thing I remember was the dog. He was probably a mastiff pit mix. His dog house was almost people sized. But he probably didn't have a name, probably never was in the house. He stayed chained outside to guard the factory. Wonder if that influenced me loving big dumb galoots later in life.

Poor guy, at least forty years ago and I still remember that sad wrinkled face. I'd sit beside him at the front of his doghouse and pick bugs out of his fur. Fleas, ticks, whatever they were he was crawling with bugs. It didn't gross me out, I just felt bad for him and all those itchy bugs. I think the factory workers threw him bits of their lunch too. I was too young to see how bad his situation was. But I guess in those days they just saw him as doing his job

 

[jujube]

I remember my great-aunt well and fondly. She was born in 1892, married at 14 (to her step-brother, no less), had her only child at 15 or 16. She only lived with her husband for a few years and then struck out on her own.

She was a true renaissance woman....was one of the first women in town to own her own car (gasp!), drove all over the country, took no guff from anyone and HAD A TATTOO on her upper arm that said "Babe" for some reason. She wasn't a "fat" woman but she was a "big" woman and when she sailed into a room, it was like the Queen Mary coming into port. You got in her way at your own risk. She didn't approve of women wearing jeans, short hair, chewing gum or whistling, all of which I did, much to her great disappointment. She never cut her hair and it reached to the back of her knees when she let it down from the stately coronet she wrapped around her head every morning. I remember enjoying brushing it for her at night when she visited.

She embarrassed me mightily and regularly when I was a teenager as she felt it her God-given duty to "straighten out" any young people who were doing anything she disapproved of.

She held down highly responsible jobs with only a third-grade education and enrolled in college in her 70's, where I'm sure she "straightened out" any young professor who was getting out of line. She moved to California in her 80's and, I'm sure, was solely responsible for an upsurge in better manners in the populace after that.

She lived to a ripe old age and I'd sure love to talk to her again. If she was still around, I'm sure she'd be "straightening out" some of our leaders.

 

[fureverywhere]

Oh I had an aunt like that. She taught in the public school. She was the aunt that after family parties had an open bar and after party in the hotel room. G-d love her, the conservative family were horrified, but her students even years later said how much they loved her. She's on a cloud right now with my Mom, drink in one hand and smoke in the other...still there for me when I need them.

 

[hangover]

I didn't smoke my first cigarette until I was three years old....because my Pa(grandfather) said that Daniel Boone didn't kill his first bear til he was three. So on my third birthday, I smoked a cigarette with my Pa. Finally quit at age 49.

 

[fishfulthinking]

ahhh memories
My maternal grandparents lived on Vancouver Island, I have fond memories of going out there as youngsters and playing in their amazing back yard. They had a giant old tree which my grandfather hung a rope swing to (the single rope kind where the rope went up through the center of the seat and you straddled the rope). Hours of swinging. They had rows of tall raspberry bushes and my brother and I were always out there eating the berries. They had a goldfish pond with a little bridge over it and we loved to play around it. On one of our treks to the ocean my brother caught a sun fish in an empty milk carton, and we brought it home to their house and my grandfather had him pour the fish in with the gold fish. It was quite the thrill to see that sun fish grow old right along with all the goldies. My brother was so proud of him self. They lived on a rather quiet remote road and in the ditches great blackberry bushes grew and my brother and I were often sent out to pick a few containers worth. Then for dinner my grandmother served them for desert with cream drizzled over. Ahhh delicious. As we got older, we were allowed to venture further and about a half a km away was what was called the "experimental farm" (they grew all kinds of cool indoor and outdoor plants and trees) we spent hours playing among the fauna. (my brother and I were so easily amused).