Chapter 7 of the Autobiography... Letter G, Grandparents.
Chapter
Seven
Grandparents
– My Parents’ Parents
To
begin, I’d like to start with my Mother’s parents. My mom’s
dad’s name is Harry. He died in 1979, before I was born, so I only
know what I’ve been told about him. He was a strict father and so
old fashioned about so many things. I’ve heard so much from my
grandma about how he would never have let this happen or let that
happen. I was also told so much about his drinking. Apparently he
suffered from alcoholism for a number of years before he died. He
went through periods of drinking constantly and even went to the
extent of having the liquor store deliver alcohol to his home when he
wasn’t able to make it there on his own. This went on for some
time before my grandma finally put a stop to it. I also remember
being told that his drinking progressed in the ending stages to the
point that he would drink anything in the house that contained
alcohol in it, including my grandma’s perfume. He eventually
passed away after an alcohol related stroke in 1979. I would have
liked to have gotten to know my grandfather in person and that is why
today I’m aiming to build a closer relationship with my
grandparents.
Next, I want to talk about my mom’s mom, Elsie. I
have called her Nana my whole life, and still do yet today. Her and
my grandpa were together until he passed away and I still recognize
her as being one of the strongest people I ever knew. She still
worked after she turned 80 and is now 88 years old and still
volunteers what time she has after her personal hobbies like
gardening, sewing, and canning foods. I remember a few years back
when she told me how she came about buying the house she still lives
in yet today. Her and my grandpa lived in a small house in the
country and there was a man who rented a room from them. Well this
man was also giving her an additional twenty dollars a week to stay
there above and beyond what my grandpa was charging him. Well, my
grandma stashed the extra twenty dollars under her mattress until she
had saved up enough for a down payment on the house they wanted to
buy. She still owns the house yet today. Nana has been there for me
so many times while I was growing up. When my parents were both
working early in the morning she used to come to my house to make
sure us kids were all up and ready for school. She only lives two
blocks from my house so I get to see her almost everyday when I’m
home. She’s been there for almost every special occasion in my
life and I appreciate that about her. We’ve always been so close,
and like with my parents, I’ve always felt like I could be 100%
honest with her without being judged. Nana means the world to me and
I wish I were home today so I could help her in her old age. I like
to say that she’s a religious woman too and still attends church
every Sunday and any other religious holidays. I plan to attend
church when I return home and I hope to be able to attend some with
her as well.
My grandparents on my father’s side of the family are
divorced. I don’t remember when they divorced, but it was long
before I was born. His mother’s name is Margaret and she’s 76
years old. I really don’t know a lot about my grandma. My
Great-grandmother lived with her for a very long time and passed away
when I was in my teens. Every Sunday they would spend hours
gossiping and playing cribbage in the dining room at my grandma’s
house. My great-grandma always seemed like us younger children were
always pestering her, but I was told later on that she was just
bothered by young children being around when it was time to play
cribbage. I don’t remember much else about her. My grandma on the
other hand, I know a little more about. She was once a Supervisor of
Probation & Parole in Rock County and she herself also supervised
adult sex offenders. One year when I was around the age of twelve,
she took me to her office in Madison and showed me some equipment
used to monitor sexual stimulation created by choice photographs. It
allowed them to monitor the level of rehabilitation in a sex
offender. When it was attached to them she would show them
photographs of children or rape victims and the machine would show
their reactions to the photographs. I was always so interested in
what she did for a living but I didn’t learn much more about it
until I was knee deep in my own trouble and on supervision as well.
On the same trip to Madison, WI that she showed me her office with
the monitoring equipment, she also took me to a geology store. I’m
not sure what you would want to call it exactly, but that’s how I
think of it. They sold all sorts of different fossils, stones,
crystals, or anything someone might use while collecting such a
thing. In this store was a huge box full of ugly labeled as geodes.
They weren’t very expensive and you got to pick one out and show
them where you wanted it cut open and they would cut it for you. I
picked one of them that had a hairline crack started in it and asked
them to cut it open on that crack. When they brought it back to me
it had the most beautiful crystals in it, and right in the center was
an enormous crystal all by itself sticking out. If they had cut it
anywhere else other than on that crack, it would have broken that
crystal off inside. My grandma bought me that geode that day as a
gift and I still have it today. Every time I look at it in my china
cabinet at home it reminds me of her.
My dad’s father’s name is
Richard. He remarried after he and my grandma divorced. His new
wife’s name was Marge, but to me she still was Grandma. When I was
young she owned a tavern, but they sold it before I grew up. She had
a number of kids of her own and I also looked at them as my aunts and
uncles. They were all around for my whole life. Marge always had a
difficult time signing my Christmas cards. I asked why she would
sign them ‘Grandpa & Marge’ and she said because she didn’t
want to make us feel like we had to call her grandma. She still
meant a lot to me. I was arrested for my 5th
OWI only hours after her funeral last year. She died of
complications after she had a stroke. I didn’t have much of a
relationship with my grandpa while growing up. There was some
tension between my grandpa and my Dad while I was growing up and they
weren’t always on the best of terms, so I didn’t really get to
know my grandpa very well over those years. In more recent years
I’ve become more curious of him as a man. My grandpa has always
seemed to be such a gentle, caring, and sweet man in my opinion, but
some of my aunts and uncles have always had such strong negative
opinions of him and those opinions influenced me for so many years.
Now I’ve come to the point in my life that I want to get to know my
grandpa better. He’s 78 years old and I want to try to learn more
about him, from him. I don’t want to hear about how he grew up
from someone who’s judgment is clouded from a stressful childhood.
That all was forty years ago. I want to hear about his father and
how he grew up. Where he’s lived his whole life and some of the
stories grandchildren enjoy hearing from their grandpas. I want to
spend time with my grandpa building some kind of memories to hold
onto and pass on to my kids.
All my grandparents mean so much to me.
I never realized how much they meant to me until I finally cleared
my mind of all the drugs and alcohol and looked at them for who they
really are, my flesh and blood. I hope I still have a chance to
spend some quality time with my grandparents and I can make up for
some of the time that was lost throughout these last wasted fifteen
years.
