As the sun shined through the open windows one Tuesday morning, the warm rays of light danced across the small country home kitchen and dining room, where a grandmother and her young granddaughter had been sitting down for a while sharing laughs and speaking of old memories and the good old days of the grandmother’s past, all the while creating a wonderful memory together. After a long deliberation, I had finally decided to interview my grandma Owens, and ask about her life. However, because this would be the first time that I had ever sat down with grandma and asked her about her past, I was nervous and not sure if she would open up to me due to the fact that grandma is a very private person. I quickly found out though, that I was wrong. After calling her in advance and asking if she wouldn’t mind if we spoke about her and her past, I made my way there and found grandma already sitting at the small round wooden table in the dining room with two glasses of ice cold green tea, waiting for my arrival. As I settled down into my favorite spot at the table, my grandma waited patiently and expressed her eagerness in being able to speak to me, mainly because with school and work, I had been unable to visit with her or grandpa for a while. In other words, this visit was very much over due. My grandma, Neva Ruth Washam, was born on April 9th, 1945 after a successful home birth within the small town of Clifton Hills, Missouri. Of eight children, she was the seventh born and last of three girls. Grandma and her family were never rich and sometimes had very little. This affected a lot of their celebrations such as birthdays and Christmas. For example, for all of her birthday’s grandma always got a cake her mom had made from scratch, with no... ... middle of paper ... ...e cat was freed from the jar, and high tailed it to the nearest hiding place far away from that sandbox. Grandma never did see that cat near the sandbox ever again. After living in Clifton Hills for a while, grandma and her family suddenly moved south to the little town of Mount Vernon, Missouri when she was nine years old because her father was diagnosed with tuberculosis and admitted to the Missouri State Sanatorium, which is known as the Missouri Rehabilitation Center. For the next five years, life was very hard for grandma and her family. Grandma’s mom supported her children with only what she earned making and selling quilts. She was so determined to provide for her family, that when grandma and her older brother Bobby contracted the measles and had to stay home, she had them lay on the couch and framed a quilt over them with the help of grandma’s Aunt Ruth.
As a little girl, she first found her life’s calling when she took care of her brother David after an accident. He had been helping to build a barn when he flipped and fell to the ground. Doctors had come to help, but he did not get any better. Eleven year-old Clara became David's nurse, administering his medicine and even applying and removing leeches when the doctors suggested it might help. Clara stayed home from school for two years to take care of her brothe...
My grandmother is deeply religious. She goes to church every single day, prays multiple times a day, and spends time in the adoration chapel. Similar to the decent grandmother, my grandmother use to live with my family and take care of my siblings and I when we were young due to my parents’ heavy work schedules. My grandmother is the backbone for my nuclear and extended family. She is well respected among many and is caring, loving, and has “mother wit.” The difference between Anderson’s decent grandmother and my grandmother is that while most decent grandmothers are around thirty-seven-years-old, my grandmother is seventy-years-old, and became a grandmother at the age of forty-five-years-old. Another difference is that my grandmother did not have to deal with her children becoming crack addicts and abandoning their children for days on in. In Code of the Street, Betty is resistant in letting her daughters, Angela and her youngest one, move back into her apartment due to their boyfriends doing drugs and Betty was not financially stable to care for all of them. This situation differs from my grandmother, because my whole extended family from my mother’s side lived in one small house with my grandmother back in 2000. My grandmother accepts everyone and does not worry about her financial stability regardless of difficult
Have you ever been away from someone so long and then with them for so short of a time, but in that time you see how wonderful this person is, and they leave a mark on everybody they meet, see or touch. The thing is this person has a big problem despite how many people they touch on the outside world, the truth is their family is falling apart …you’d never think this beautiful person has a dysfunctional family. This is a story about a lady I can call grandmother her name is Ms. Carolyn Ruth Norwood. My grandmother is a no nonsense person when it comes to her small family she always wants us to do our best in whatever we’re doing no matter what; I’ve always enjoyed having someone to motivate me with humor. It amazes me how the world works because
When Grandpa prays, “Lord above, afore this gatherin’ assembled, I ask You to bless the memory of Miss Mattie Lou” (99). Everyone stood shockingly, in silence as Grandpa continued the prayer. When he finishes singing the praises of his deceased wife, and asking for guidance for his new one, the crowd has a change of heart.
My grandmother has a certain look in her eyes when something is troubling her: she stares off in a random direction with a wistful, slightly bemused expression on her face, as if she sees something the rest of us can’t see, knows something that we don’t know. It is in these moments, and these moments alone, that she seems distant from us, like a quiet observer watching from afar, her body present but her mind and heart in a place only she can visit. She never says it, but I know, and deep inside, I think they do as well. She wants to be a part of our world. She wants us to be a part of hers. But we don’t belong. Not anymore. Not my brothers—I don’t think they ever did. Maybe I did—once, a long time ago, but I can’t remember anymore. I love my grandmother. She knows that. I know she does, even if I’m never able to convey it adequately to her in words.
Regretfully, though readers can see how Mama has had a difficult time in being a single mother and raising two daughters, Dee, the oldest daughter, refuses to acknowledge this. For she instead hold the misconception that heritage is simply material or rather artificial and does not lie in ones heart. However, from Mama’s narrations, readers are aware that this cultural tradition does lie within ones heart, especially those of Mama’s and Maggie’s, and that it is the pure foundation over any external definition.
As the youngest of five children she was often overlooked. The pride of the family often overrode the opportunity to receive health care, handouts and a decent chance to become something. My mother spent her childhood in a tiny house with her family and many relatives. She was never given the opportunities to excel in learning and life like my generation has. My grandfather was a carpenter and on that living fed many hungry mouths. But despite this already unfortunate lifestyle my mother maintained good grades and was on a path to overcoming her misfortune.
Nancy was only four years old when her grandmother died. Her grandmother had a big lump on the lower right hand side of her back. The doctors removed it, but it was too late. The tumor had already spread throughout her body. Instead of having a lump on her back, she had a long stitched up incision there. She couldn’t move around; Nancy’s parents had to help her go to the bathroom and do all the simple things that she use to do all by herself. Nancy would ask her grandmother to get up to take her younger sister, Linh, and herself outside so they could play. She never got up. A couple of months later, an ambulance came by their house and took their grandmother away. That was the last time Nancy ever saw her alive. She was in the hospital for about a week and a half. Nancy’s parents never took them to see her. One day, Nancy saw her parents crying and she have never seen them cry before. They dropped Linh and her off at one of their friend’s house. Nancy got mad because she thought they were going shopping and didn’t take her with them.
It was a Monday night; I remember it like it was yesterday. I had just completed my review of Office Administration in preparation for my final exams. As part of my leisure time, I decided to watch my favorite reality television show, “I love New York,” when the telephone rang. I immediately felt my stomach dropped. The feeling was similar to watching a horror movie reaching its climax. The intensity was swirling in my stomach as if it were the home for the butterflies. My hands began to sweat and I got very nervous. I could not figure out for the life of me why these feelings came around. I lay there on the couch, confused and still, while the rings continued. My dearest mother decided to answer this eerie phone call. As she picked up, I sat straight up. I muted the television in hopes of hearing what the conversation. At approximately three minutes later, the telephone fell from my mother’s hands with her faced drowned in the waves of water coming from her eyes. She cried “Why?” My Grandmother had just died.
I had the pleasure to interview my grandma, Olga Hernandez. She was born on November 8, 1951 in Cuba. She worked in a workshop making clocks. After she retired, she took care of me while my mom worked. I consider her to be my second mom because she lived with me for eight years. She taught me love, discipline, manners, etc. My grandma is: strong, beautiful, caring, and passionate. Most importantly, she is a breast cancer survivor. I chose to interview my grandma because October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. I couldn’t think of a better time to do this interview. I like her story because although it’s sad, it has a happy ending. It shows you that no matter how hard things get, there’s always light at the end of the tunnel.
In America, there are many kinds of families. I decided to research parenting in the case that the Grandparent is a main caregiver. I also want to contrast the difference that parents have being a first-time parent, versus a being a parent as a grandparent. The book says, “In general, skipped-generation families have several strikes against them” but also says, “[the] discussion of grandparents who live with their grandchildren should not obscure the general fact that most grandparents enjoy their role…” (Berger, 486). With this, I am going to interview my sixty-seven-year-old grandma, she was forty-six when I was born and became a primary caregiver for me alongside my dad. I think that my grandma is going to say that she is glad that she was
Family : My Grandmother Mildred truly defined the word family as I have come to learn and live it. Holidays and family gatherings were the celebrations they were because they were surrounded by Grandma’s love. I watched family such as my late uncle Reginald become the amazing family man he was because of traditions instilled by his mother. I have also seen her daughter - my aunt Milinda – raise three beautiful children by the love and traditions passed down from Grandma. I, of course, owe most of who I am from Grandma’s love passed down through my own mother Rayetta and her husband George, whom Grandma so highly regarded.
The air is really fresh, and the wind is comfortable. Grandma usually opened the window during the daytime; I still remembered that feeling when the sunshine came in house and scatter. I walking among those numerous grand trees and admire colored leaves on the trees and on the ground. I miss that feeling of calmness and stability of the world around. I wish I could return the reality of those feelings once more. Memories in mind and never forget about happiness of staying in my grandmother’s house. Grandparent’s time-honored gift to their grandchildren is their unconditional love, unfettered by schedules, routines or commitments. They reinforced their grandchildren’s sense of security and self-value.
This lady is the most wonderful person I 've ever met. She is old, affectionate, and intelligent. It took me eighteen years to realize how much this extraordinary person influenced my life. She 's the type of person who charms everyone with her stories and experiences. She always time for her family and friends. She is the kind of leader who does everything to keep her family together and in harmony. She is my grandmother.
What does phenomenal mean to you? One dictionary states phenomenal means very remarkable. My great grandmother was a very sophisticated and remarkable woman. Phenomenal should have been her first name, because that she was. My great grandmother was a rare breed; many do not come like that anymore. Memories of my great grandmother take me to a happy place, and hold a special place in my heart.