My Experience Of My Grandparents's Home

There she shares with them stories about her past and her present as well as they help with her chore of removing the eyes from a hogs head. From the way she talked about her preparation and canning of the “souse meat” as she called it, to her way of speaking in general, anyone who’s grown up in the more rural areas of West Virginia would almost feel like their reading a transcript of their own grandma’s words.

As an adult missing her childhood memories It’s hard to decide whether to keep those traditions or make new ones. For example, when she was a kid “... A football game hummed from the tv, a mixer whirred in the kitchen...” The author revealed some of the things her family did for thanksgiving when she was younger.

Some say food is an exploration of culture, and taste evokes lush memories of the past. “ In An Island Passover” by Ethel G. Hofman, she described her life in the Shetland Islands. Every year, Hofman’s family celebrates Passover- a traditional Jewish holiday where time and effort to prepare a meal is like painting, and it takes months to reveal a masterpiece. While Hofman had a positive recollection of her family’s traditional cuisine, author of “Fish Cheeks”, Amy Tan did not share the same experience. Tan felt ashamed of sharing her traditional cuisine with a pastor's son whom she was in love with. Tan strived for her crush’s approval because she did not want to be deemed strange. Hofman and Tan had striking differences in

Dorothy Allison’s essay, Panacea, recalls the fond childhood memories about her favorite dish, gravy. Allison uses vivid imagery to cook up a warm feeling about family meals to those who may be a poor family or a young mother. Appeal to the senses shows this warm feeling, along with a peaceful diction.

In Jessica Harris’s “The Culinary Season of my Childhood” she peels away at the layers of how food and a food based atmosphere affected her life in a positive way. Food to her represented an extension of culture along with gatherings of family which built the basis for her cultural identity throughout her life. Harris shares various anecdotes that exemplify how certain memories regarding food as well as the varied characteristics of her cultures’ cuisine left a lasting imprint on how she began to view food and continued to proceeding forward. she stats “My family, like many others long separated from the south, raised me in ways that continued their eating traditions, so now I can head south and sop biscuits in gravy, suck chewy bits of fat from a pigs foot spattered with hot sauce, and yes’m and no’m with the best of ‘em,.” (Pg. 109 Para). Similarly, since I am Jamaican, food remains something that holds high importance in my life due to how my family prepared, flavored, and built a food-based atmosphere. They extended the same traditions from their country of origin within the new society they were thrusted into. The impact of food and how it has factors to comfort, heal, and bring people together holds high relevance in how my self-identity was shaped regarding food.

Another Friday afternoon, and my sister and I are traveling on Highway 70. We are heading to my Grandfather’s house for the weekend, and my mind is sifting through memories of him telling me about his childhood. “Back when I was a boy...”, he would start, and I, or my cousins, would playfully respond with, ”Back when dinosaurs roamed the earth, Pa?”. That is how our time machine starts to the past, and by the end of our conversation we are left with a fascinating story of how some mundane building we have driven past a million times was once a place that fueled my Grandfather’s hometown in Mcminnville, Tennessee. My Grandfather’s stories are more than stories though, they are history. His memories are mental books from the past that only make my own life seem mundane. My grandfather drawing water from a well as I turn on the sink, or him walking next door just to use a phone while I send text messages by the minute. My Pa comes from a long line of farmers and handymen, and although he scoffs at some technology, it has been a major part of his life, and has grown up with him almost like a sibling.

I remember the days when my grandma would be the one taking care of me after school. Each and every school day, I would eagerly wait for school to end so that my grandma could come and pick me up to bring me back to her apartment. Each and every day, she would come 15 minutes after school had ended to avoid the hassle of dealing with all the parents coming at the same time to pick their kids up. I didn’t mind though, that gave me time to talk to my teachers about issues that I had or just to socialize with my friends. Once my grandma arrived, I would quickly drop what I was doing, say goodbye to whomever I was talking to, and go straight to the car to keep my grandma from waiting. My grandma would immediately greet me and ask how my day

Shortly after our visit to the Lofgren’s, I married my fiancée, which concluded my six-month long residence with my grandmother. Subsequent to my moving out, Grandma resided alone in her house for several years and on nearly every Sunday, “just in case someone might drop in after church,” made a delicious roast beef dinner with mashed potatoes and gravy. During the first years of our married life, Kathy and I frequently dropped in after church to dine and visit with my endearing

As a young child, Nakeisha Pierce had a happy childhood. She was surrounded by a large family who lived very close to her in her small hometown Bogalusa, Louisiana. She did have to travel around quite a bit due to her father serving in the army, but they did not go with him overseas because her mother was in nursing school. Her favorite childhood memory is going to her grandmother's house and eating family dinner. Her grandmother’s ten children and their children were gathered in her ginormous house. This memory really stands out to her because she plans on one day having these family dinners with her kids and grandchildren, and hopes they enjoy and value it as much as

So I wait for grandma to get the milk and plates, so we both can sit and discuss our time away from each other. I was only 6 at the time my grandma first started making the cookies for me. So of course, all that was on my mind was the taste of grandma’s sweet cookies that made me fill like those were the best on earth, and no one could tell me different! Mom would be by the stove stuffing her face with her favorite lemon cake and hot tea, while me and grandma share our time together.

The familiar smell of soft cookies and homemade cooking are common thoughts when people think about their grandma's house. Great feasts and family gatherings play a part in everyone's grandmother's home. But when I really think about my grandma's house only one word comes to my mind: fun.

The fleeting changes that often accompany seasonal transition are especially exasperated in a child’s mind, most notably when the cool crisp winds of fall signal the summer’s end approaching. The lazy routine I had adopted over several months spent frolicking in the cool blue chlorine soaked waters of my family’s bungalow colony pool gave way to changes far beyond the weather and textbooks. As the surrounding foliage changed in anticipation of colder months, so did my family. My mother’s stomach grew larger as she approached the final days of her pregnancy and in the closing hours of my eight’ summer my mother gently awoke me from the uncomfortable sleep of a long car ride to inform of a wonderful surprise. No longer would we be returning

One place that I see every day but don’t put much attention to is my house. The house that I live in is near by a park and a gas station. My house is small and cozy is made of steel frames, the anterior part of the house has a beige and pink color that combine a beautiful shade. The inside of my house has many portraits of family members and drawings. I have a total of two bathrooms and four rooms a kitchen and two living rooms. We have a living room that’s used for grown-ups and the other one is used for the children. The kitchen table and chairs are made of wood, in the ceiling there is big chandelier. The walls of my house are painted in different colors that are green, beige and pink. I like that every room has its own different color, it’s not boring it brings life and shade.

My Grandmother’s house will always have a special place in my heart. I love it so much because it’s her only house in Florida. She was raised up in the Cayman Islands, where she spent most of her life until she moved down to Florida. When she came to move in, I was about 10 and was overly excited to help her move in. Driving into the neighborhood, the first thing I noticed was that all the houses looked very similar, a dark brown roof with white walls and some stairs leading to the front door, which always seemed to creep me out. When I got to my Grandmother’s house, it was in the corner of a cul de sac. In the middle of the cul de sac, was a very large oak tree surrounded by dark green bushes with different colored plants and surrounding it was a cement curb. The tree stood about 50 feet tall and the bushes were bright green with red leaves on them and changed colors during the fall. In front of the house to the left was a patch of grass for a garden and to the right was a sidewalk that would lead to the backyard. When I walked in, the first thing to grab my eye was this giant mirror she had in the living room. It’s one of the biggest mirrors i’ve seen. It stood maybe about 50 feet tall and covers the whole back wall of her living room. Upstairs, she has two guest bedrooms along with her own master bedroom. Downstairs was the kitchen and dining room and in the kitchen she had an enclosed patio as well as one next to the living room. Both patios lead to the backyard where

My grandmother has a very softhearted voice that I still hear telling me goodnight when we were little. She would wait with us until we fell deep asleep. And even as we got older she would gather us around the kitchen table and let us watch the old fashioned ice cream maker churn the best vanilla ice cream and then she would load it up with chocolate chips, and our parents would always say, "That's too many.", and grandmother just let us keep piling them on. My grandmother is the kind, gentle, loving, caring grandmother that I wish my children could experience today.