Grandmother Profile Essays

“That’s good, Amira. Now quiet down and brush your teeth,” Grandma said. She sat in a soft blue chair in the living room, while Amira’s older sister Sara read a book on the floor.

Yes, I should call my grandmother more; yet, every time I pick up my phone and have all the intentions of calling her I usually get side tracked and it never happens or I chicken out because chances are I will learn about all these people who have died, knowing maybe one of them, and get lectured on why I should go to church, which to her knowledge I do every week. She also likes to call me fat and lecture me on all these diets that she heard about on the news and then, if I’m physically there, offers me cake or cookies or some other unhealthy food. When it comes to my grandmother she can make you feel like you caused the rainy day. She does what I would call and “open-face sandwich approach” to giving her thoughts. This means that she piles the fillings on with the insults and tells you everything, everything that is wrong with you or that you have done wrong, making you feel, continuing with the sandwich metaphor, bloated, horrible about yourself, and feeling sickly; however, she quickly concludes with something nice so that if you are not use to having the Catholic guilt, then this is where you go and have a good cry about life and then try to make up whenever “wrong” to my grandmother by: calling all the time, talking about all the dead people that she knows, agreeing with her on everything, and basically just making her feel like a queen until the you start to wear off again from her will

The conversation I had with my grandmother, validated that elders at time, just need someone to talk to. You can learn a whole lot from an older adult’s life experiences and learn to apply it to your overall life

My father is of both Italian and French decent. My grandmother arrived on Ellis Island in 1909 with her nine siblings. My mother is also of Italian decent with her ancestors arriving on Ellis Island in 1899 from Naples Italy.

My grandma, whom we call Lola, had always been an exceptional woman. As an immigrant from the Phillipines, she sought new, exciting things; which was present in New York City. Lola loved being in the moment and helping others. In the city, she worked as an entertainment manager for a nursing home. Her pleasure in bringing joy to a gloomy place was incredible. A loving grandma, she always found a way to commute to New Jersey to see my family and I. She always made my day with her witty jokes. Lola’s smile would illuminate the whole room the moment she walked in.

Sally Kay Brom always enters a room with a smile on her face, and her arms are always open wide to hugs from her grandchildren. My grandma was born on December 15, 1938. She grew up as the oldest of two sisters, and one brother. Dorothy Kampfschulte, her mother, was strong, independant, strict, and a great mom as my grandma had said, and her father had a temper, a good sense of humor, and loved playing cards. The entire family was strong in their faith. As a kid, my grandma attended kindergarten for half a day, St. Francis Xavier for middle school, and for high school she attended Catholic central. She was an all around good student. My grandma took dancing lessons, piano, liked to perform, and like to play checkers and the board game, “Uncle

There she stands, all of five feet tall, short brown hair set in pin curls, dressed in modern day slacks and a flower print shirt. She is fierce, never afraid to speak her mind; she is my hero; she saved my life; she is my Grandma. Growing up was not an easy task for me, but my grandma made it so much easier. She would drive her four-door, tan Buick fifty miles one way from the small factory town of Warsaw, Indiana, to the college city of South Bend, Indiana, every weekend to retrieve me. She would pack me in the front seat of the car, opening the door, the familiar scent of grandma 's rose perfume mixed with her lemon air freshener greeted me like an old friend. Having my Grandpa sit in the back, due to the fact I got car sick. We would head off to the Kmart to buy my shoes, socks, underpants, and whatever else I may need. My mother figured it was my father 's job to provide me with these items, but since it was my Grandma picking me up, the burden fell upon her. This beautiful spitfire of a woman never complained, and if she

Have you heard of Sad Papaw? The old man who cooked burgers for his grandchildren, but no one came for it. Now, he has found his match it’s, Sad Grandma.

My Grandma Mary was sitting there in the car, waiting for me. I quickly walked over to the car, opened up the backdoor, and put my stuff inside the car, and shut the door. I opened up the front door, got in, and shut the door. “Well hello. How was your day?” my grandma

The modern day world is much different than it used to be one hundred years ago. Conditions now are very different from those of the past, such as how people communicate, dress, and live their daily lives. My grandmother, Linda, agreed to sit down with me and explain the changes and historic events she experienced throughout her lifetime. Her full name is Linda Marie Batye, and she was born on April 26th, 1947, making her sixty-nine years of age. Although she is retired, Linda was an executive assistant at South County Bank in Boone County. After divorcing my grandfather before I was born, she now resides in Columbia with her dog, Squirt. After asking her many questions, I began to weave historic events and her life together.

“How had grandma even died?” I asked Mama having realized just then that she’d never mentioned to me what had happened to her. “I mean, she was pretty young, only fifty-four, and looked pretty healthy in those pictures I saw of her back at the house,” I then added.

Today, Grandma turns eighty four. My parents and I walk through her front door and instantly the familiar smell of orchids fills the air. Through the crowd of aunts, uncles, and cousins, I spot my Grandma, five feet tall and exceptionally well dressed. I walk over and give her a big hug and kiss. After a series of hellos and how are yous, we all make our way toward the big blue couch and plop ourselves down. We orient ourselves around her, like elephants gathering around the wise matriarch of the herd. We listen as she reads, In My Own Words- Helen’s Memoir, out loud. She scans the room and sees her six children and thirteen grandchildren gathered around her tiny living room. With a youthful voice that doesn’t match her eighty

Correspondingly, her presence can light up a room like the stars in a still sky. She has the usual, stereotypical grandma tendencies, which include: asking if I’m hungry every five minutes, telling me “Boy, you sure are looking skinny. Have you lost weight?”, then the following time I see her, it’s “Your face is looking

It was a busy household, since she was the 3rd oldest and every 1.5 years another sibling was born. This is the last stage where she doesn’t have much of a recollection of her childhood. However, as we know it’s also a very important stage of development. During this timeframe children start asking tons and tons of questions, which aid them in figuring out the world around them. The favorite memory she does recall is her mom sitting each night and telling her and her brothers and sisters bedtime stories. I am again taking the assumption that she achieved this stage with healthy development that moved her into the next

At just over five feet tall, she was the kind of woman that you saw on the street and knew to move out of her way. Her demeanor was strict, her hands tied with thick blue veins, criss­crossing over her thin, frail fingers.