Author Topic: Grandfathers (Read 410 times)

Hajo · « **on:** March 24, 2004, 11:14:17 PM »

Just recently becoming a grandfather for the third time caused me to reflect on the memory of my Grandfathers.

This will probably be long and boring to most. It's not part of the usual set of topics posted here. But becoming a Grandfather again made me realize how important, and special Grandfathers are. Most of you who read this probably are not married, or just married and have young children. (this is a guess by reading channel one on the text buffer) LOL I'm just kidding!

As with most Americans their heritage can be traced to other countries. My Grandfathers came from the Netherlands (maternal) and Germany. I was also fortunate enough to have known 3 of my Great Grandparents! All four were from Germany, and my Great Grandmother on the paternal side (fathers) lived to be 104 years old! (Redd Foxx was right....ain't nothing uglier then an old white woman lol) but she was great....still had that youthful twinkle in her eye at 100 years of age.

Back to Grandfathers. I grew up only a few houses away from all four of my Grandparents...needless to say my brother, sister and I were spoiled rotten. My maternal Grandfather was Dutch..last name Kulow, and my paternal Grandfather last name Weimer, naturally German.

Both loved baseball, were Cleveland Indians fans and I spent more time in Municpal Stadium then the groundscrew did in the 50s' and 60s'....well...it seemed like it.

One was a tinkerer...he bought a new outboard motor for his boat...took it home....tore it apart....put it back together, built a stand out of 2X4s to mount the motor on, dumped the garbage out of the garbage can on the driveway (much to my grandmothers consternation....but she was used to it) filled the garbage can with water and started this brand new motor just to see if it would work! He built us a basketball court in his turn- around, would play catch with my brother and I. And he took my brother and myself fishing and hunting in Canada when we were very young! I remember the first time at Lake Dore...he tied the fishing rod to my brothers wrist, thinking that if a Muskie hit it...he wouldn't lose the Rod....never thought though that if the Muskie was big enough....my 5 year old brother AND the Rod would be scraping the bottom of Lake Dore! Not to worry....my brothers first catch was an 8lbs largemouth that broke the water like a Nuclear Missle launched from a Sub. When my brother landed that Bass....my grandfather promptly untied the Rod from his wrist..and said...maybe I oughta tie the dam thing to me!

My maternal Grandfather from the Netherlands as I said was a huge Indians fan....when Rocky Colavito was traded by Frank "Trader" Lane General Manager of the Indians to Detroit for Harvey Keune....he called our house...my mother answered the phone and he shouted "Get Wayne up!" Put him on the phone!
This was early in the morning before he went to work. My mother thought I did something wrong...and my Grandfather was about to chastise me for something she knew nothing about! It was however to tell me that our favorite baseball player was traded to the Tigers for a useless Banjo hitter! He and my Grandmother owned a Condo on Clearwater Beach in Florida....not at...right on the Beach! And every March my brother and I were given permission (with homework in tow) to leave School for 4 weeks and live on the Beach! Wotta life eh? This Grandfather also taught my Brother and I to play Golf....I've been playing for 43 years....and haven't gotten any better lol...but I'm hooked!

Now as I said...I've just recently become a Grandfather for the third time. I thought of both of these wonderful and influential people immediately after hearing the news. It brought a smile to my face when thinking of them....and the realization that I've got big shoes to fill. I pray I'm at least half as influential, and loving as those two Gentlmen were. And have half the patience, and knowledge that they both shared with me.

Sorry for the long post...unusual for here...but when you get older, I do hope you feel the same way.

GtoRA2 · « **Reply #1 on:** March 25, 2004, 01:02:22 AM »

I have no memory of either...

My dads dad died before I was born, and my moms dad died when I was 4.

I wish both had been around growing up. Especialy my dads dad, he sounded like a pretty damn cool guy.

Furball · « **Reply #2 on:** March 25, 2004, 12:11:37 PM »

My grandad was the nicest person i have ever met. He had a hard life growing up as the eldest son in Highbury, London.

In wwii he joined the Royal Navy and escorted the atlantic convoy's, russian convoys and saw pretty much the entire world during his service.

After the war he set up the family business which is still running, He used to come and watch every one of my football (soccer) games without fail. He would do anything for his family.

He said to me some time ago "Robert, i wish is to see you play football once more before i die"

Soon after i nearly died from a burst appendix, and havent played since.. he never did get to watch me again.

He died last year aged 80 and i miss him so much.

Mickey1992 · « **Reply #3 on:** March 25, 2004, 12:23:13 PM »

I am going to see my Grandpa next weekend. He turns 95.

Growing up he lived about 3 hours away so I didn't get to see him much. When I entered high school they moved to Florida so I saw him even less. My other Grandpa died when I was 4, so it makes me appreciate the time I have with him even more.

Ripsnort · « **Reply #4 on:** March 25, 2004, 02:39:16 PM »

Thanks for sharing that Hajo.

My last living Grandparent just passed away on Sunday. She was my Fathers mother, and died at age 94. Her husband died at age 92, and my mothers parents both died at 93 years old, respectively.

Grandma "Alice" as we affectionately called her used TO camp with me in our backyard (160 acre farm in Minnesota) when I was like 10, 11 years old. She once camped out with me and a friend during a snowstorm! She was a pretty cool lady.

midnight Target · « **Reply #5 on:** March 25, 2004, 03:54:52 PM »

Great thread!

All 4 of my Grandparents came from Europe. Three from Italy (OK 1 was from Sicily) and my Dad's Dad from Sweden.
My Swedish grandfather was killed in a train accident (he was a brakeman) when Dad was 2. Grandma was a good looking Italian lady and ended up burying 4 husbands. Her last one was the only one I ever knew, and he was from Germany. He was a truck driver during the "Great War" and had millions of stories. He was Grandma's milkman back when she was married to #2. When he retired he went looking for his old customer... and married her. I remember once when I was 12 he took me to the store with him. He handed me $10 and told me to get him some beer. I tried to explain that they wouldn't sell it to me. He was incredulous. Then he told me how he would carry an empty bucket to the store in Germany when he was a kid and have it filled with beer for his father.

My Italian Grandparents could speak little English, but they worked hard and would not think of having their children speak anything but English in the house. I was grandpa's favorite. When we visited Chicago he would take me on his shopping trips. He would always argue over the price for everything. As we walked through the Italian neighborhood we would wave or say hello to all the people sitting on their front stoop. He always seemed to be showing off his grandson. I remember he smoked a pipe. One day he called me into the back room and gave me a little box. Inside was a small black wood pipe. Very cool for an 8 year old. Then he filled it with his tobacco put it in my mouth and tried to light it. Grandma came running in and he got it good. It was all in Italian, but I got the jist of it. He used to make up cuss words, cause grandma wouldn't allow cussing.
giddigawdimawdigodash was my favorite.

Now I'm a grandpa too. Fun times ahead.

Nilsen · « **Reply #6 on:** March 25, 2004, 05:08:04 PM »

sorry for your recent loss ripsnort

midnight Target · « **Reply #7 on:** March 25, 2004, 06:02:11 PM »

I missed that. Sorry Rip, at 94 she led a wonderfully long life.

Curval · « **Reply #8 on:** March 25, 2004, 06:12:55 PM »

Sorry Rip.

Grandparents are awesome. I'm looking forward to the experience. Nice post Hajo.

Ripsnort · « **Reply #9 on:** March 25, 2004, 06:57:19 PM »

No condolences required but thks..., sorry Hajo, didn't mean to intrude in your fine thread.

Hajo · « **Reply #10 on:** March 25, 2004, 07:47:25 PM »

Rip no need to apologize! The point of my thread was just to point out how important,and loved Grandparents are.

My grandparents have long since departed...they'd be well over 100 years of age by now lol.

Just pointing out....that as far as role models, educators, and supporters Grandparents are rated highest on the list of importance to young people. Rank right up there with the parents.

Thorns · « **Reply #11 on:** March 25, 2004, 09:59:18 PM »

Good thread!
I'm off next week to visit my grandson. He looks like me, acts like me, but I play it down, due to the fact I was a dad too. I don't want to put a wedge between a father and son, and me old grand dad. So, I just hang with my grandson, take him for ice cream, let him say and do what he wants, he can even fart when he wants, but he laughs when he does, he cracks me up. And, when I'm with him, the chicks come from all over to see him, and this summer he has motioned he will get the ladies to bend over to kiss him, so I can check their hooters out. Yes, I have a grandson I wouldn't trade for all the money in the world. He is a handsome boy with big blue eyes, and loves to throw a baseball, or anything he can get his hands on. He turned one year old in January.

Thorns

loser · « **Reply #12 on:** March 26, 2004, 09:11:40 AM »

Nice post Hajo.

I, myself, only have one surviving grandparent. He was born in Iowa (that is right, i'm 2 generations away from being American

) but emmigrated to Canada when he was about 8 years old.

For the next ten years of his life he lived in virtural slavery working on a farm for a landowner. Yes, the province I live in has a long history of socialism.

At age 17, and with the onset of war, he decided to escape working for room and board only. The RCAF would not take him because of his age so he joined the RNZAF. He trained on tiger moths, (primary) harvards, (instrument) and eventually ansons, (bomber trainer.)

He was shipped out in 1940 and flew Wellingtons for the rest of his war-time career. He did some of the most amazing things you can ever imagine during the war.

He hunted the Bismark in a torp equipped Wellington in early spring of 1941. (never saw a damned thing.) He flew in north Africa torping U-boat docks.

He ditched on the shores of egypt after his number 2 locked up due to an oil system failure.(non-combat related) Himself and the tail gunner were the only to survive the crash due to fire. The tail gunner was ejected on impact. My grandpa was the last person to exit the plane through the astro-dome but the rest of the crew later died from infected burn wounds. Even my grandpa still has a huge burn scars on his right forearm, back and right leg. The only reason he survived is because he went under then experimental therapy and treatment in a program known as the "guinea pig club."

He later escaped, yes escaped, from the hospital and hitched a ride on an American C-47 back to England to get back in a plane and start flying again. He was busted though and sent back to Canada to train new bomber pilots. He finished out the war training pilots from Canada, Australia, New Zealand, and the US.

He took his meagre pay, went back to the area where he once worked as a virtual slave, bought land, started a family, had 6 sons and one daughter (my Mom).

~~Grandparents~~

AKIron · « **Reply #13 on:** March 26, 2004, 10:30:50 AM »

Grandkids are great Hajo, especially cause ya get to spoil 'em and then send 'em home.

Have 7 now myself, 5 boys and two girls. (exercising great restraint to avoid posting pics)

YUCCA · « **Reply #14 on:** March 26, 2004, 02:06:44 PM »

Well my mothers father died when she was 4 (he worked for fish and wildlife, was blowin up beaver damns in spring on the yellowstone but they got capsised and his hip waders filled full of water and he drowned).)

My fathers dad i never really knew because when i was 3 he had a bad stroke. Could barely communicate with me. He isn't doing too well at moment they say he might pass away this week.

Anyways my mother had a stepfather which treated me like his real grandson, took me fishing, hunting and told me all sorts of war stories. (sort of, he was in a radar facility in alaska