Who were your better grandparents - maternal or paternal?

I never got to know my grandparents very well.

My mother's dad was not very kind to my mother when she was growing up, especially when he was alone with her. Apparently her mother tried to protect my mom the best she could. My mom's grandmother was murdered in 1968 and my mom was never the same again.


So by default my paternal grandparents were better. Apparently my dad's father was a very standout guy. He died before I was born though. My grandmother on my dad's side was a very sweet woman. The main thing I remember about her is all the hugs she would give me when taking trips to Texas to visit her or when she came out to visit us.

My dad's mother was Southern Baptist and was against alcohol and smoking. My parents were both drinkers and smokers so when my grandmother came to visit us , my parents would hide out in the bathroom to have cigarettes and take sips of Vodka . Years ago my dad asked me how I learned to be so deceitful during my teen years with him and my mom. I reminded him of those bathroom visits they made. Looking back , it was interesting to watch my parents "grow up" as they got older :ROFLMAO:
 
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I loved them all but grew up in my maternal grandparents home so I got to know them better. I had older relatives on Dad's side of the family where I knew my sweet great mother! When all is said and done I prefer my maternals b.:giggle:
 
I recall that when my maternal aunts learned they had a great, great, great uncle who was a Gypsey Prince, they got all happily excited, and grandmother told them not to--apparently he was NO Robin Hood. lol Grandmother emigrated to the USA leaving behind a well-off socialite life.
 
I only ever knew my maternal grandparents, and they were just OK.

True story....I never understood that grandparents were your parents parents until fifth grade, since I only had the one set I never made the connection. The teacher was asking about our families ages and when I mentioned my dad was older than my grandparents she didn't believe me, and proceeded to explain why that wasn't likely. It was true though, dad was born in 1902, grandmother in 1906 and grandfather in 1910.

Yes, that's one of those skeleton in the closet stories that I'm not sure I ever got the full truth about.
 
C50, reminds me of the song:
I'm my own grandpa
I'm my own grandpa
It sounds funny I know
But it really is so
I'm my own grandpa................... :)
 
My paternal grandparents were the best. Gramps had moved back east after a full lifetime of ranching in Montana. He was nearly eighty years old and was worn out. None of his six sons wanted to ranch---it was college or the Navy for them. So the ranch was sold. I would walk with him and he would tell me stories of the place.
Grandma was the same. I would sit on the floor next to her while she explained how my ancestors played their part in forming this country, from the Mayflower to the Rev War, she painted a canvas of bravery with their acts.

Now y'all know how I got into genealogy!!
 
I didn't know my paternal GPs very well. There was some trouble between my dad and them when I was just a tot. We were living in a 3-family house (two 3-three bedroom apartments upstairs and the downstairs was one flat). Whatever the problem was, it made my GPs move out, but they didn't go too far - just over on the next block. After that, we moved into the downstairs flat and my dad rented out one of the upstairs apartments to my mom's youngest brother and kept the tenant that was already living in the other.

I had no contact with them until I was a teenager when my mom decided I should visit them. They were polite, but cool. I did visit a few times, after which I asked them if I could have a family heirloom. My grandma said (and I remember it like it was yesterday), "I'd prefer to see it go to someone in the family." I was hurt and asked her why she didn't consider me family. She replied that she just saw me as one of the neighborhood children. I never never returned to their home after that. However, on my birthday the year grandma passed away in 1975, she sent me a birthday card - I still have it. Grandpa out-lived her by 11 years. He was 89.

My maternal side grandpa passed away when I was 5 in 1957, so I just have a vague memory of him. Mom's mom was not overly affectionate, but not mean, either. We often visited her home because she owned riverfront property. She did re-marry in the late 1950s. That step-grandpa seemed more interested in the family than she did, but he passed in the early 1970s. Grandma never married again. This grandma also lived to be 89 and passed in 1999.

Grandparents.jpg
 
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I loved and admired my grandparents equally. Dad and Mom's parents immigrated to America from different parts of the world and very different cultures. The struggles they faced in their youth were very different from each others, but both were harsh, to say the least. Mom's mother did not survive, and her father was sent to 2 different countries before he could finally come to America and live out the rest of his life near his daughter in relative peace.

My paternal grandfather immigrated when he was 22 or 3, and married and started a family within a few years. Gramma was a sweet, hardworking woman who loved him immensely. I never saw that woman look the least bit unhappy until the day Gramps died. But she forged on, as sweet and engaging as always.

My maternal grandfather was around 50 by the time he made it to the US. He came alone and never remarried.

Both grandfathers became successful; Grampa Dad (Gramps) owned a dairy farm, and Grampa Mom (Zeidel) owned a custom tailor shop. Both of them were kind but very direct, unbelievably strong, and they both had a great sense of humor....2 very different flavors, but equally funny.
 
My dad's mom died before I was born. His dad only lived until I was 5, but I have very fond memories of him. On the other hand, my mom's parents both lived a long life, and I spent a lot of time with them. They were great grandparents in every way. My grandfather was a retired Denver fireman. So, he was fun, very active and had great stories. My grandmother was just plain fun all the time.

She was feisty I loved them both and since I had them well into my adult life, I would have to say they were my favorite. When I was 8 through 12, I spent a few weeks with them every summer in Denver, Colorado. I lived in a small town, and they ended up teaching me how to love a big city.
 
My paternal grandparents had 9 children and several grandchildren before I was born, so they weren't necessarily excited over yet another grandchild, which is understandable, at least to me. Plus, my parents and I soon moved 500 miles away, meaning I seldom saw them.

My grandfather on my mother's side died when I was only 3, so I don't remember him. So, that left me with only my maternal grandmother close-by. She eventually remarried, but her new husband was old enough to be her father, so my mother couldn't stand him.

But I liked him. When I was a little kid, he would chase me around the yard with a garden hose, making faces, laughing and squirting water at me, until we were both so tired we fell down on the grass laughing. I can still picture him now. And he took me fishing, and to this little store a few blocks away for snacks, and he taught me how to make ice cream on one of those old fashioned hand-cranked machines.
 
@MACKTEXAS ...my paternal grandparents had 16 children and a big bunch of grandchildren before I came along.. .. my maternal grandparents had 9 children.. with a whole bunch of grandchildren by the time I came along..my mum was their youngest child

You can imagine that out of 25 aunts and uncles I have mega loads of cousins and second cousins ...and their kids as well
 
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I preferred my maternal grand parents because they were alive. My paternal grandparents were both died in 1963.
In terms of grandparents, my maternal ones were pretty good despite not speaking much English.
My Italian grandmother worked all day in the kitchen preparing meals. Just try and find a wife that good today.
 
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