Today’s question is in preparation for Grandparent’s Day coming on September 10th. Hopefully, you’ll flood your social media with photos of your grandparents. Be sure to use the hashtags #HoundontheHunt and #grandparentsday so I can see what you post.
I realized when I was growing up that I was fortunate to know all of my grandparents and even one of my great-grandmothers.
Harold Thompson (grandfather) and Gladys Mabel Thompson nee Oliver (grandmother)
Left to Right Beatrice Oliver (great aunt) Jesse Oliver (great grandfather) Gladys Oliver (grandmother) Elizabeth Alice Oliver nee Clark (great grandmother)
I didn’t know my great-grandfather Jesse Oliver, but I often feel like I did because I’d chat with my great-grandmother about him, and she had such love and respect for him that I named one of my sons after him.
Tell me in the comments below about your experience with grandparents and great-grandparents.
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Yes, I knew all 4 of my grandparents. I was only 5 when my paternal grandmother passed away. I was 15 when my paternal grandfather died. My maternal grandparents died when I was an adult. I knew one of my maternal great-grandparents (again I was about 4 when he died but was really close to his 2nd wife).
Papa (my paternal grandfather) was always stopping by the farm in the valley (he actually owned it) when I was growing up. We (my brother & I) spent weekends with him. Loved his rice pudding (he never had a written recipe – so it is lost). We always had Christmas dinner with him and my Dad’s sister.
My maternal grandparents lived out of town so we didn’t see them often except for the annual Thanksgiving Family Dinner (all of my mom’s siblings and their families).
Grandma Lucy (my maternal step great-grandmother) lived locally and we often stopped by her place until she moved away to live with her daughter in Oregon. We always stopped by on Christmas Eve and spent some time with her when we were out looking at Christmas lights. We gave her school photos and she always had a little something for us too.
Marcy, great memories. Have you thought of asking your paternal cousins if they knew of your papa’s recipe for rice pudding? He may have gotten his recipe from his mother. I love old recipes. Happy hunting.
My family lived in the same house as my maternal grandparents, 3 generations on the farm. If you thought the lobster story was bad, we saw my grandmother slit the throats of her chickens and watched horrified as they fluttered around afterwards. Needless to say no one in our part of the house would eat any. Same with our rabbits, which I saw floating in a pail of bloody water. We saw our paternal grandfather only a few times of year, especially Christmas Eve when his 9 children and spouses gathered with their children and spouses/boyfriends/girlfriends and their children in a tiny house downtown in our city. There were always over 60 people eagerly awaiting Santa’ s arrival at midnight when presents for all as well as neighbours would be handed out. My paternal grandmother died at the age of 46 before the birth of most of her grandchildren, just as my parents first met. She only saw 2 of her 37 grandchildren. My maternal great-grandmother lived with our family but died when I was a baby. I am lucky to have a family portrait of her and her husband, along with my grandmother and 3 of her siblings as well as her mother, my great-great grandmother!
Denise yikes.. I do like the Santa story 🙂 happy hunting.
I can’t really that I “knew” my grandparents, although I did meet all four of them. The only one I had much to do with was my paternal grandfather and then only because he once stayed with us for a week or so one summer. I do remember he once roasted some chestnuts on top of a large gas stove that was used for heating his dry goods store. He shared some with me. I also remember that he cut down one of my mother’s flowering shrubs and she was quite angry about it. My paternal grandmother died when I was quite young, but I remember watching her twirl bread over her head. I watched my maternal grandmother stick live lobsters into a large pot of boiling water to cook them, but I had seen them crawling around in the kitchen sink fully alive and refused even to taste the things she had “killed”.
Esther, You have some wonderful memories of your grandparents. I agree that I don’t think I’d eat the lobsters either. Happy hunting.