Remember your grandparents?

They were all gone before or shortly after I was born. I wish I had some stories ;-(

When we would cry or pout, my grandmother would always tell us to quit smiling, until we eventually started to laugh.

my favorite saying that she says is: mas sabe el diablo por viejo que por diablo which translates into the devil knows more because he’s old than because he’s a devil. And the stories she tells me are crazy and not possible I.e this guy got drunk hit his dad then he was getting chased he ran into his house hid under the table when all of a sudden the door flew open and there was this whirlwind? That picked him up took him to a top of some mountain and threw him into a field of cactus and it was the devil. And she knew this guy haha my silly grandmother

When my grandfather comes over, he says “I’m glad for you to see me.”
When you get up and announce that you’re going to use the toilet, he says: “Tell them I sent you; you’ll get a good seat.”
And my all time favorites are “And how” (to reinforce what was just said), and “How does that grab ya?”

Haha. My grandfather who we called Papo..used to say this one phrase whenever you woke up late. “Morning glory, see the reindeer?” Since waking up late is my life, I heard it from him often. Even his own children could never find out what it meant, he would never tell them. And to this day, I don’t friggin’ know. Now he’s passed too. Also, it always touched my heart so much; he always called my grandma, my Mamo “Skip.” It was a nickname only he called her from when they first started dating… even when he was going through dimensia he would still only refer to her when he was talking to her..as his Skip.

My grandmother never hesitates to remind me that I used to look like the Michelin Man… and used to chase her with a spoon because I Always wanted food! =)

We were eating burgers out side and my brother and I were about 8. A small gnat landed on my grandpa’s hamburger. My brother and I went “Ew grandpa don’t eat it there’s a bug!” He just put the top bun on, bit into it and said “I don’t mind, it’s protien”. Then my brother and I jumped up with our burgers and bun tops and began to try and catch gnats in our burgers just to be like him.

He also ran a grocery store. Every time we would visit he would give us a box of animal crackers. The original kind with the string that looked like a train car carrying circus animals. The rules were we were NEVER allowed to ask for them or pout if we didn’t get any in case he was busy.
Well this one day we had a very bad day. We were all very tired and hungry. We stopped and he didn’t give us any. We all got in the car. Our dad pulled out, drove toward the exit of the parking lot, turned before leaving it and drove around back to pull up to the front of the store where our grandpa was standing, smiling, and holding our animal crackers and milk for us.

Whenever i would be sick, or play hooky for the day my grandma would always watch me. I’d go over there and love to hear stories about my grandpa (her husband that i never was around to meet). She would sit me down at lunch and say if your feeling better you can have some cottage cheese and peaches. So i’d smile and say, grandma i was never sick! She never said it, but i knew that right when i walked in the door those mornings she knew. She died about three years ago, i miss her so much and all of the stories she used to tell me.

I’m the only one who met my paternal grandmother, she made me the most delicious apple pie. :)

And as for my grandfather, he was an Olympic fencer, marine, and tax lawyer for MGM. He was also off his rocker. I kinda liked how weirdly stuck in the past he was. Hailing cabs in NYC by screaming Cabbie! But my favorite memory would probably be when he took us to his super secret athletic club, and my mother and I had dinner with him in a ballroom all by ourselves with a waiter off to the side. The waiter even had that whole towel over the arm wearing a tux thing going on. I felt like I was in the mob. Or at least really famous.

my grandmother feeds the slugs dog food, and soaks bread in oil for the pigeons during the winter (even though it’s illegal to feed the pigeons where she is…).

My Grandmother called me a Skeezix. I learned quite recently that Skeezix was a comic strip character. My other Grandmother made awesome lebkuchen. My Grandfather would drink coffee and play Scrabble. My other Grandfather taught the mockingbirds to whistle a Bach cello suite by practicing it in his backyard.

My maternal Grandmother was a saint. She used to make us crunchy pancakes, treacle sandwiches, sneak in candy whenever she could. She’d also make tea and play games with us and read our tea leaves. (even though it was always the same fortune!) I miss her dearly. In the end, she didn’t even know who I was.
Now my Paternal “Grandmonster” is another story…

My grandpa was such a happy guy always, we’d ask him how he was doing and he’d always say, “if I was doing any better, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”.

And he always told us, “you can call me anything you want, but don’t call me late to dinner.”

He was an awesome man, I miss him. :)

I wonder what my grand kids will say about me! I love being a granny.

My grandparents are still alive and well. I live with my grandmother (and my mother) so I see her and talk to her daily.
My great-grandparents have both passed away. My Papa was one of my favorite people in the world. He didn’t have a mean bone in his body. He would give someone the shoes he was wearing if someone else needed them. He smiled slow and laughed slower but was always happy. He refused to use his cane (until he absolutely had to). I remember when something happened to his foot and he had to go to physical therapy and he got kicked out of the physical therapy class because he was being smart with the nurse and told her he “didn’t need to learn how to walk because he could already dance”... and then proceeded to do a little jig.
My Grandma was the feisty one. She had an attitude (not a bad attitude, just an attitude) and when you did something she didn’t like she had no problem letting you know. When any of us kids would frustrate her she would go on cursing in Spanish. She taught me how to make tortillas from scratch and would let me roll them all on my own. When they came out shaped like Nebraska instead of circles my Papa would tell me that it didn’t matter because they don’t roll down your throat anyway.
I have really good memories of both of my great-grandparents. I lived with them for six years and was old enough to get to know them really well before they died. For that I’m very grateful.

I think I will start a link specifically for “Sayings that your grandparents say or said” there are some great ones here.

@Allie ;
what a blessing!

My maternal grandmother thinks she knows yiddish, but really she just knows a few phrases. So one day she said, “Oy gevault, Hakunah Matata!” I said, “Grandma, that’s The Lion King.” She replied, “The stole it from us.”

I never really had grandparents who cared about us. I had a grandmum who was so self absorbed and a pain in the butt to everyone she knew. Her husband died when my mum was very young so no grandpa from that side. She died a few years ago and my mother and her family feel like a burden is gone. I had a grandpa who, in one of the only times he was allowed near me, told my mother she had named me wrong (she chose a name that wasn’t what he told her, yes told her, to name me), you can bet he had no part in my life and he’s dead now so that ends that. My one remaining grandmother is generally pleasant, but we share no common views and I wouldn’t consider us terribly close. So in all, I did not have any grandparents who contributed anything of significance to my life, apart from causing my parents to exist.

I am lucky to have had not only grandparents and (4) great-grandparents, but a great-great-grandmother, too! Although, since the great-great died when I was 2 or 3, I don’t remember her. My last remaining great-grandmother died when I was in my twenties. All I have left now is a grandfather, and we are not close anymore. My grandmother was the Head of Grants Management at NIH, and was not your typical grandma. Instead of baking cookies, she made me bacon sandwiches. Instead of tea parties, she taught me how to make her gin-and-tonics just the way she liked them. Instead of tourist t-shirts from her travels, she brought me an indian beaded lighter cover from her business trip to an indian reservation (I think I was 14). She kind of rocked :)

I played with my grandpa quite a lot when I was little. He was dead but my parents had him cremated and put his ashes in my Etch-a-Sketch.
I wonder what ever happened to that.

My Grampa, the marine, the Olympian is currently hanging out in my car. He’s been in the passenger side foot well for about a month. I keep forgetting to bring him in.

These are great stories. Love reading them.

Best Memory: My paternal grandfather was in the flower business with his brothers. I would spend Summers “working” at the flower market with him. I helped unload trucks, bundle flowers, and trim the stems. They would pay me in cookies. I loved it there.

Worst Memory: My maternal grandfather only visited me once when I was 6 or 7. I was alone in the house with my mother when she got off the phone and said, “We’re gonna play and pretend we’re not home.” Before I could ask, “Why?”, my grandfather was beating on the front door screaming to “let (him) the fuck in!” He continued kicking and banging the door for over an hour until he finally gave up and left. I never saw him before or after that day again. A few weeks later they found him dead under a bridge with his head caved in.

@cprevite – good lord. did you ever find out the story behind that?

@Bri_L: He was most likely undiagnosed bipolar, schitzophrenic from I hear tell. He pissed off the wrong guy that day, basically.

It really screwed up my mother who turned out to be very much like him. Sad.

@cprevite I am very very sorry to hear that. What a terrible thing.

@Bri_L Thank you. It certainly shaped a lot of people’s live.

Unfortunately, I don’t remember much of my grandparents. My grandfathers were gone before I was born. I remember my maternal grandmother, a legendary strong women, on her death bed when I was five.

My paternal grandmother had my faher at age sixteen and never could strap on being a parent. My dad won scholarships to college during the Depression, and I don’t remember her ever saying she was proud of him. Her signature remark was, “It doesn’t make me feel any smarter.” Sad, but true. I envy people who had nice relationships with their grandparents.

When my grandmother (OK, great-grandmother) died, one of the last times I saw her my dad, uncles, and cousins, were all teasing her because she ate cucumber soup. They would give me $1 dollar if I had a spoonful and I did. I said “it was good” and she gave me a bowl. Gross, but not that I couldn’t eat it. I just ate it for her to defend her.
Today, I have a crucifix that was hers. The only memory from her to me, really.

@90s_kid: That’s a nice thing you did. Good for you eating that cucumber soup.

My grandma made noodles from scratch which were the best noodles in the world. There were always cookies in the cookie drawer.
She didn’t mind if we jumped on the bed.

My cousins and I used to dress up in my Nanas clothes. Im really close to my Nana and she is the person I look up to most. My Grandpa died before I was born though, he was from England and I would have loved to meet him. My great grandpa was form England too which is funny because I just found out recently that they were British and I have always wanted to live in England.

If we ever caught my grandmother standing in front of a door or window, hands behind her back, left hand moving like a fan, we knew she had just farted.

My grandfather always played Yahtzee with me. I still have the original game pieces (almost 40 years old)! Those were fond memories.

@jonsblond, thats funny my Nana sometimes farts and blames it on her dogs because she gets embarrassed..

I just remembered a story I’ve been told. My grandfather was a volunteer fireman, and often left the house in a rush to respond to calls. On one such occasion, he accidentally stepped on me because I was crawling across his path. He didn’t even notice! I was apparently outraged, but unharmed.

@augustlan: How old were you? I’m picturing an indignant bobble headed Auggie toddler.

I must have been pretty young to be crawling…maybe 1?

My granddaddy was a great story teller and I asked him to tell me one of his fishing stories.

He said he and his friend, Holcomb, were flying up to Canada on this itty-bitty plane to get to their special fishing spot. He said that Holcomb had lost his arm during the war and kind of turned up his shirt sleeve and pinned it as he didn’t like to wear a prosthesis.

Granddaddy said that on this one flight, there was a youngster on the plane who just kept looking at Holcomb and then at his missing arm. Finally, Holcomb couldn’t stand it anymore and said to the kid, “Young man, can I give you a word of advice?” The kid nodded. Holcomb said, “Whatever you do, don’t never start biting your fingernails . . .”

My grandma used to make the best sandwhiches. She still does, and she always will. I remember she showed me her Boy Book one day, in which pictures and excerpts of her boyfriends and the cute guys in school were strewn across the pages. I realized at that very moment that my grandma was indeed a little girl, just like me.

@kerryyylynn awwwwwwww

My maternal grandmother died in the great influenza epidemic in 1919. My maternal grandfather was always joking and full of fun. He used to stick his false teeth out of his mouth at us kids.

My paternal grandfather died when I was 1 or 2. My maternal grandmother was alive until I was well into my 20’s. I used to love her story of how she made the trip to the US from Slovenia in 1888, when she was six years old.

Nope. They all died before I was born.

Each of them died before I was born because of some sort of cancer. The only one who didn’t had parkinsons and then died when I was still too young to remember her.

I didn’t know my paternal or maternal grandfather, but I was told my paternal grandfather worked in a small prairie cafe and diner as a young man when he first came to Canada. I heard he had a tough time getting in with the strict anti-Chinese Immigration Law at the time, and he needed to pay a “Head Tax” that was directed solely to Chinese immigrants. The head tax was about $500.00, which was an enormous amount at that time. He died at the age of 87, and was never compensated for the tax. :(

My maternal grandfather immigrated to the States in the 1930s as a teenager, and was interned at the infamous Japanese Interment Camp during the war years. When he got out he worked at a laundry as a young man, sent money home to support his family, but died when he contracted tuberculosis.

Both my paternal and maternal grandmothers remained in their respective homelands (South China and Japan) for many years until they were able to come to North America. My paternal grandfather struggled for many years trying to get her over, because at the time the law restricted young Chinese men from bringing over their wives. It took him over 10 years before they were finally re-united. All I remember about my paternal grandmother is that she was feisty and small, despite having her feet bound as a young child. Lol. As for my maternal grandmother, she lived to the age of 97—- always in typical Japanese garb (kimono)—-and was a very sweet and gentle elderly lady. Petite and soft-spoken, she was your stereotypical Japanese woman who obeyed her husband and never went against him, and always tended to his every need.

My Grandpa died at 84 years old when I was seven. He was born in Childress, Texas in 1876, the year Custer was massacred at the Little Big Horn. At fourteen, he was in the first Oklahoma land rush with his father and at sixteen, he was on one of the last big cattle drives from the Texas panhandle into New Mexico which brought two thousand head of cattle driven by 14 cowboys, a cook with a chuckwagon, and a remuda of 22 horses to reservation Indians after they had suffered a long, hungry winter. He taught me how to play guitar, shoot a .22, fly fish and drive a sixteen penny nail straight—he could do it in two whacks in his eighties.

He loved to tell stories about the old days, before the cars replaced horses and the oil derricks littered the land. He had been a cowboy, farmer, music teacher, jackboot circuit preacher, builder, and when none of that worked, he cheated at poker. In 1898, he joined the rough riders and followed Roosevelt to Tampa, but got sick with fever there and was sent home. He outlived three wives and had three sets of children, my mom being the last. In ‘37, his land blew away and he, my grandma, my mom and two aunts went to California with the other Okies to pick fruit and live in Hoovervilles till FDR started the camps. Within a couple of years, he was building homes in Sacramento, a section of town he named Gardenland. There’s a street named after him there. He was quite an original guy.

I just miss them

All of my grandparents died before I was born, except for my Mother’s mom. But she lived 2000 miles away, so I only met her twice—after she was in the throes of dementia. She was Dutch. I was about 11 the second time I met her. I just remember her rubbing her aching back on the door frame of her farm house, with her “red medicine” (mom said it was just whisk of some kind) clutched in her hand, and singing Dutch songs. Her house smelled like natural gas. Kind of scared me. That’s all I know of her. But from what my cousins told me, she made killer cookies, and made Cookie Monsters out of them, which they are to this day.

O shit. This is an OLD question! WHERE did it come from!

I only got to know my 2 grandfather’s. Both my grandmother’s had died long ago. I really miss the fact that I never got to know my grandmother’s. I heard stories about them both and that they were really wonderful ladies. My 2 grandfather’s were not very loving. I believe it was due to their wife dying years ago. They just became hardened. I heard that both of my grandfather’s became a bit quiet and to themselves; since their wife had died. I can remember my one grandfather telling me that all my freckles on my body were from a fly doing poop! Yes poop! He knew just how to get me rialed up. He was as loving as he could be. It was hard for him to be loving, but at least he tried. As we got older, this grandfather would send my Dad money to buy us special presents and to say they were from him. My other grandfather was a very selfish man. When my relatives would all get together for family parties…mainly Christmas and summertime; he would give my family really cheap gifts. Granted I don’t expect or need anything nice. I am very happy with homemade gifts and such. But, it hurt when my grandfather would buy my cousin’s all these pretty things (necklaces/bracelets for the girls and watches/sports stuff for the boys) and my sister and I would get things that he found from a hotel he stayed at (paper and pens, address books, etc). I’m not kidding!! I learned to not think so kindly of this grandfather. I really felt left out and that he didn’t love me. How sad for a child to grow up thinking that. I am fine now. It doesn’t bother me at all. My thoughts to him now are…..“its your loss grandfather! I was a wonderful child to get to know and you chose not to.” I have made sure that my boys take time to get to know their grandparents and that they feel loved. I don’t want my boys to miss out like I did.

I absolutely do! I actually have one grandmother still living :). Lost my other Mamaw 14 years ago Sept 13, 1998 (Grandparents Day) Miss her VERY VERY much…My 2 Papaws I just recently lost. I can think of so many wonderful memories <3 Grandparents are great!

I only met one . My maternal grandmother. She died when I was 10.

I remember she was very good at cooking things from her head. She never owned any recipe books.

I remember telling her that real grannies make cookies ( she didn’t at the time).

She immediately went and made the most delicious raisin cookies I ever had from her head.

Months later I asked her for the recipe over the phone but it just didn’t come out right when I made it LOL. They burned haha

My paternal grandparents and maternal grandfather died before I was born but my grandmother was a wonderful woman.
Typical little old white haired lady that baked me cookies and took me out to lunch and told me stories about her growing up on a farm in Indiana at the turn of the century. She died just one month shy of her 98th birthday and still walked 2 miles a day and mowed her own yard with an old fashioned push mower until she was 95!