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Favorite Grandparent Memories


paula

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Wow! Excellent thread!!!!

My parents divorced when I was about 4, so I spent many long summers with my mom's parents. My mam-maw was the sweetest woman I have ever known. We did so many, many things together. They lived way out in the country, and my favorite memory was when she and I would go to the little country store (Penni, it had wood floors and a glass candy case, too!) and get Mountain Dews and Peanut Patties. Then we would drive back to the farm and lay under a big ole shade tree and try to make out shapes in the clouds. And, oh Lordy, could that woman cook! My sister and I talk about her cooking all the time. We both try to make things like she did, but they just never taste the same.

Her husband, Paw-paw, was just plain mean. I hated him and I always tried to avoid being around him. He just died on the 13th of this month at the age of 98. I refused to even go to his funeral and I'm not in the least bit sorry!!!

Dad's Parents. Well, I only saw them a few times a year and it was just as well because SHE didn't like me much (I look like my mother, LOL). SHE always wanted me to call her Grandmother, so I would smile and call her Mam-maw every time, LOL!! She had this awful habit of putting my hair behind my ears while she smiled and said mean things about my mom to me in the sweetest voice you ever heard. That was really hard for a little kid to deal with, even if the stuff she was saying was true. Didn't really ever get to know my Grandfather very well, he was county commissioner (3 terms) and a sort of gentleman farmer. I do remember that he seemed to have a pretty good humor about him and he kept bees. Funny, I've been planning to start my own hives out on our property...

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blossom one family story that has been handed down from generation to generation on the Merrick (father) side of the family is about bees and beehives.

The Merrick's settled in the area known as Black Hawk at the tip of the county in Harmony District. They came in covered wagons. They tipped one over and used the canvas cover for shelter till the log cabin was built. They brought with them two queen bees. The first thing they built was not the cabin but beehives for the queen bees. They made their livelihood off the honey till the farm was established. Whenever a son or daughter would get married they would give them a beehive and $500. Now back then that was a fortune. Somewhere along the way the farm was more about livestock and the bees took a back seat. But the table was never without fresh honey. NEVER!!

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Greg, you always have a happy ending! Thats a good one.

Grandmother, so I would smile and call her Mam-maw every time, LOL!! She had this awful habit of putting my hair behind my ears while she smiled and said mean things about my mom to me in the sweetest voice you ever heard.

Blossom, Boy, can I relate. My dad's parents did the same thing to me.

About Bee's and bee hives... Mikes dad has several hives at their house. And they always give us jars of fresh honey.

Folks have NO idea what they are missing if theyve never tried a homemade biscuit and fresh honey.... making my mouth Water.

I can remember going to spend the night with my grandparents nearly every friday night. Papaw would go sleep in the other bedroom so me and my older sister could sleep with Mamaw.

By 7am Mamaw would already have started her 'dinner' (lunch) cause they would ALWAYS eat at 10:30 sharp. I remember waking up to the smell of a roast cooking in the oven or one of her delicious stews bubbling. Funny how certain smells can actually take you back to their house in the flash of a moment.

I was about 5 and had just gotten a new pair of shoes that day. It must have been on a Friday cause we went and spent the night with the grand's that night.

I LOVED those shoes so much that I wanted to sleep with them ON my feet. And of coarse Mamaw let me. Well, the next morning poor ole Mamaw couldnt walk - I had kicked her so much during the night with my new shoes that she was bruised (never complained though).

When she was lying on her death bed (still able to communicate) - she and I talked about the fun things we used to do.

She reminded me of this story... we both cried.

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Awwww, Paula! Your shoe story reminded me of one of my own....

When both my sister and I stayed at Mam-maw and PawPaw's we usually slept in her bed (they had they're own rooms ya know) and she would sleep on the couch. Well, one night me and Cindy just couldn't go to sleep and we were all giggly and squealy like little girls are and Mam-maw had given us several warnings. Then Cindy (she's older than me) decided to tell me a spooky story to scare me. I can't remember what the story was, but what I do remember was something came flying through the air and landed on the bed right between us!!! Scared me so bad I went flying under those covers and all the way down to the foot of the bed! Seemed like I was under there forever when it finally dawned on me that I could hear Mam-maw laughing so hard she could hardly catch her breath, so I slowly came back up to the head of the bed and peeked out. The light was now on and she and Cindy were both laughing and crying at the same time. Seems she had taken the spooky story as an opportunity to teach 2 giggly, squealy girls a lesson and she had thrown her house slipper into the bedroom to scare us at just the right moment. She just didn't figure it would make it all the way to the bed!

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All of my Grandparents had passed on by the time I was born. All save one. My Grandmother lived with us until I was two. Then she was locked away for trying to slit my throat. Sorry Delarla, I said in another thread there wasn't any family mental illness, but I was thinking about my Parents.

But both my Grandfathers gave me wonderful things, and they never knew me. They stepped off this Earth years before I came along, yet there was something left for me. And my life has been the richer for their gifts.

Grampa Bill was my Mother's Father. He was a Blackfoot Indian. He left us many things, mostly stories and lore passed down by Mom. Things that were sworn to be true, even though it stretches sanity to believe them. To this day I thank him for half my heritage. Through his passed down wisdom I learned that all is one, and that God (Gitchee Manitou) is part of all things, as we are part of Him.

I learned to hunt, and to fish. I learned what things to eat in the forest and what thing to avoid. I learned to be self reliant.

But Grampa John Webster. He topped everything. For when I was forty one years old, and my own Dad had been two years in the grave............My Paternal Grandfather (who himself had died when my own Dad was two) gave me the biggest surprise I have ever gotten. He gave me a whole family I didn't know I had.

When my Dad died I was the last of our particular line to carry the Webster name. I had half brothers, and a half sister, but no one to share it all. Then one day there was a knock on the door. And when I answered it I thought my Dad was standing there. Seems Grampa John had two families back in the old days. Each a secret from the other. I have cousins on this earth I never knew about before. This John Webster handed me a thick sheaf of papers. My family tree carefully researched back to 1322 AD. Wow! Now eleven years later I still feel surprised.

Megwitch.

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I finally came back to this thread...wow, really neat stories you guys!

As some of you know, I lost my grandmother last week, and here's a cute story about Nana. She was born in 1912, and was 92 when she died. Seems that back in the day, when she began dating my Dada, she told him she was a few months younger then he was, since it isn't proper for a young lady to date a younger man, and the years rolled by...three daughters...8 grandchildren...and along the way they purchased grave sites and markers, just to be prepared. Well, all these years, the year of birth markers have said 1913 for both of them. My sweet little innocent Nana allowed this! A permanant grave marker with 1913 on it, when she knew darn well she was born in 1912!

It wasn't discovered until they were in their 60's and Social Security started sending notices, and Dada found out about her little indiscretion. He very seriously took my mother aside (she's the oldest) and confessed his wife's sin to her, and made her promise not to tell for fear of embarrassing Nana, but he thought she should know. My mom told, of course, and as the years went by after my Dada passed away, doing the math got complicated and we all knew her real age and she didn't argue.

At her funeral, there on the marker is 1913, just as sure as she meant it.

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Ryan, that was such a beautiful story... wow!

Kathy, thats cute! Everytime you visit her grave, you will be reminded of this... sweet story!

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Yeah Whip, did your grandmother REALLY try to slash your throat?! Please, do tell!

And wow on your grandfathers, a Blackfoot Indian and a whole new family! What a neat story about John Webster. That is really a blessing, I'm so glad he knocked on your door. You know, 1322 is a very long time ago...that's back past the Dark Ages, that's alot of history! I'm blown away by that!

Hey, what's megwitch, did you cast a spell?

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