Meeting My Grandmother Essay

My great-grandmother was raised by her mom, dad, and other relatives. She, and many cousins, were raised up as brother and sister in a close-knit family. Harriett Marshall, my great-grandmother, was born in Saltillo, Tennessee on January 7, 1931. She has lived through many trying times. It is a blessing to live through so many events that changed the nation, even the world. She has lived through the following events and many more: The Great Depression, World War II, the historic signing of Jackie Robinson, Brown v. Board of Education, the Civil Rights movement and many more.

I chose to interview my grandmother, Maryann Metzger. I chose her because she is probably one of the strongest people I know. I wanted to learn more about her childhood. After talking with her I realized that she may not remember a lot about women’s rights at that time but she does remember segregation. Through this I learned many things that I didn’t know before.

For the oral history project, I interviewed my grandmother. Her full name is Imelda Laborce, while she is known as “Meldy” to most family members. She was born in a small town called Calapacuan in the Zambales region of the Philippines. She was born in 1955 and is 61 years old. Like me, she was born in the Philippines but eventually moved to America sometime in her life. I believed she was a good candidate because I knew she was one of the earliest members of my family to travel to America. Hence, she must have good stories and have a rich background. I also never really knew anything about her past, so I just thought it would be interesting in general to learn about it. She currently lives in Union, New Jersey and works in a hospital as a nurse.

It had 4 full bedrooms and 4 full baths. There was a second floor along with one of the biggest basements I have ever seen. This was a kid’s dream because I could do just about anything I could imagine in that house. Now there was a plus to all of this going on and me being so young. I saw what was going on, but I did not fully understand what was happening.

I couldn’t help but stop, I was mesmerized at how elegant the hall was. It was a long passage, decorated with white tables, mirrors with white trim, white tile, white ceilings, and white lamps placed on every table giving off a ghostly, cold light. Open doors lined the walls. Inside, you could see white decorated rooms.

The moment I walked through the doors, it felt like a big step forward for the Village. I encourage you to see the building for yourself on Sunday from 1 to 3 p.m.

It takes me a moment to gather my heart and fix my composure before I even notice the interior-every single wall is painted a bright color. Greens, reds, oranges, yellows, no wall is safe. I almost laugh, a major contrast from the cry I choked down at the doorway, and much like this place is from the chameleon job it has on the outside. The all-black desk stands out, the main piece of furniture in the rainbow-like room, as my mom makes her way to it to check in.

I took a deep breath as I walked through the doorway. The door was stuck open, hanging on just one of its hinges. It was clear that no one had been near this place in a long time. As I entered, a stench hit me. It smelt sickly sweet, almost like rotten fairy floss. I looked around the room at the faded and ripped wallpaper, and the broken furniture. The air was so thick with dust it was almost impossible to breathe, and everything was thickly covered with dust. The little light there was came from the cracks in the yellowed blinds.

The house was long, white, and had blue shudders. I could always pick out which set of windows out front peeked into my bedroom because of the messy off-white paint stuck to it after years of never being touched up. Inside, so much more was going on than the typical all-American home lead outsiders to believe. Confusion, growth, fear, and lots of aluminum cans.

My grandma had survived a hard life, and yet managed to raise four responsible, well-educated, and successful children. All this she did while working as a respected psychiatric nurse and a state mental health board member. Although she had had and was still overcoming trials in life, I always knew she would be there and cared about me and my life. As my brother and I grew older and were unable to visit my grandparents as often as we

My Grandmother goes by the name of babunya, and baba for short, this means grandma in Ukrainian. She lived in Ukraine for most of her life, and she is almost 90 years old now. She’s been through a lot in her years, thus her appearance has changed. For every wrinkle she has there’s a story to match. She has had every color hair: blonde, red, brown, and black. Now her hair is a short gray color. She keeps it short because it stays out of the way, even though she hates it short. She has always had long her until now. She has also progressively become shorter over the years due to a very bad back; she now stands just under five feet. Since she spends most of her days in the garden her usual outfit

Set over four floors, it’s light, spacious and airy. It’s also elegant, sumptuously decorated and enjoys commanding views to the Firth of Forth and beyond from the upper level rooms.

I will tell you a tale of a woman of great success. This is a woman that has inspired me to be something great one day and to never give up trying. Though she may be growing into her elderly years she has lived a very challenging, joyful, loving and successful life. She is a woman of great faith and character, she is my grandmother.

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.

My grandmother’s house has a very special place in my heart. As the family has gotten older and we have all had our own children we do not visit as we should. I visited with my grandmother many times when I was little. Her house always seemed to have something about it that set it apart from all the rest. As you walk into the back door of her house you would notice a long, narrow kitchen that led into the main living and dining room of her house. The smell of food home cooked food was quite evident. Grandmother cooked every day and always cooked big meals on holidays for the family.