My Experience With My Grandparents

When you think of losing a grandparent in your life, you think of them passing away. You dread the day you will get the call that they are sick. You then begin to cherish all the moments you have with them leading up to their passing. You have time to except their sickness, and come to terms with the outcome that is to come. My PopPop is not here anymore, but do not get confused, for he is alive. I did not have warning. I did not have time to cherish him. I did not have time to say goodbye. My PopPop was on no medication, which was almost uncanny for a 75-year-old. Trying to encompass everything he was boils down to a few things that may not seem like much to someone who didn’t know him. He went on a walk every night after dinner, and would whistle the same tune when he was happy. He played the same little ditty on the piano every time we were all in the living room. He was a simple man who could not harm a fly, and a good man. Unlike the grandchild warned when they are going to lose a grandparent, I did not have this notice. I did not have time to go on one last walk with him, and I did not have time to record him on the piano. I did not have time to replicate his whistling song, or to spend time with the man I knew. My PopPop was the heathiest man I knew, but then he got depression. First slowly, then all at once. The man I knew had slipped from my fingers without any chance to hold on tighter.

Stephanie Ericsson’s essay, “The Ways We Lie” describes the different types of lies that people use daily to avoid conflict, get out of unpleasant situations, and how lying is destructive. From the onset, Ericsson sets the tone of her essay citing personal examples and stating that it is natural to lie under certain circumstances, however we must consider the connotations of our actions. She explains that there are different categories of lies and begins the essay with white lies, justifying that these minor lies are most often used to avoid confrontation sparing people’s feelings. Ericsson then cites a more serious type of lying, such as facades where people create illusions about themselves and their lives, for personal gain. In fact, Ericsson uses a documented case where a Catholic diocese ignored the plain facts covering up the situation because the church was in

From a young age, society teaches people to always tell the truth, as lies can bring themselves, or other people harm. However, experience teaches people that telling lies is a lot easier than telling the truth, especially when those lies seem to be insignificant. The short stories, “Like the Sun” and “The Open Window” exemplify situations in which the truth is detrimental to others’ feelings, and a situation in which lying is damaging to one’s life. Although both telling the truth and telling lies can be harmful to one’s life or feelings to a certain degree, lying causes more damage than telling the truth. Sekhar from, “Like the Sun” and Vera from, “The Open Window” both prompt somewhat of a negative impact on other

So i spent the night at my grandma and grandpas and in the morning we all woke up in the morning we all got in the van and all the kids including me took nap in back and when we got there we had to put camper up and take boat to ramp to get it to the campsite

I enjoyed reading your interview with your Grandmother, she sounds so much like my Grandmother. How she grew up also sounds a lot like how I grew up, just different times. We didn’t have a lot of money but we were happy. My Mother worked her whole life and still works today, she had lots of trouble raising four children until she met my Dad who adopted us. I remember we were getting canned food delivered to our trailer at one point before she met my Dad. It all changed when my Dad found my Mom and married her and took on all four of us. For some reason, I couldn’t help but to remember making mud pies and building forts in our yard. That was one thing we did have was a huge back yard with a fence, so we would pretend the yard was our ocean full of sharks. We would climb around the fence and if we fell, we got eaten by the sharks. For some reason this interview made me think of those great memories.

After roasting marshmallows, the sticky sweet on my sons' fingers, my father stares into the coals, starts talking about his mother, my grandmother, my sons' great-grandmother. He tells of how she fought her death to the end, even under the morphine drip. Nonverbal tantrums on her bed.

The hushed quiet was deafening the house. I come from a family of four, noise always echoing through the walls, peace never being near. Normally, such lack of noise would be welcoming; but today it was earth-shattering. The minivan was packed faster than you could blink, voices raised tempers flared. A peaceful Tuesday was gone.

Born in a rural community in Northeast Mississippi to a single mother, Allie Mae Smith, she was the middle child of three children, an older sister and a younger brother. My grandmother often reminisces about her childhood, from her life in a multi-generational household, living alongside her grandpa, great-grandma, her mother, and her siblings. They lived on a plot of land that they owned, where they nourished a thriving farm which was used for food. She would work in the fields during the day and cook the harvest by nightfall. Although, the work was demanding, it was a life envied by many in a time when most African-Americans were deprived of rights. Her goal was to make sure she got an education so would never have to work in another field.

Many years ago, some my great grandparents came from Poland and Austria to America. Originally, they came on a ship headed for New York and they could settle anywhere. They chose to settle in Woonsocket, Rhode Island. In Woonsocket, there were many factories which required workers which is why they chose Woonsocket. Then, they started a family and it continued on from there. For the same reasons, my other great grandparents came from Canada and started their family in Woonsocket as well.

Have you ever lost a family member well I did last year my grandma died and she had to be rushed to the hospital. My paper is about my grandma and about her death. Also about how it affected me and my family. Everything change that day like how I thought and what I did.

The past can tell more than the future. I interviewed my grandma about her past. She was born on August 5, 1959. My Grandma became the oldest of three brothers. At school, she considered herself an A - B student. Her hobbies were painting ceramics, reading and playing. After school Grandma would play hide and seek or follow the leader. Her favorite toys were metal slinky and her very own bike. She loved play in the pool or hide closet where her brothers couldn’t find her. When my Grandma was 13 she rode horses and trained a dog for 4H. She moved eight times in her life land her brothers became her friends. Then life happened to her and she had 2 kids and became a grandma. I asked her how my mom and uncle differed. They are very different

When Mommy helped Sarah into her favorite pajamas – of course the denim blue flannel ones with big, patched pockets, and put her to bed, she took her temperature.

“You don’t have to be rich to be generous” ~unknown. That the same with my grandpa, he is not rich or poor but he is generous. My grandpa also is the definition of caring. According to google the definition of caring means displaying kindness and concern for others. Every day my grandpa shows generosity to everyone.

My family wind up in this country by my parents. They came here because they wanted some money and in Mexico there wasn’t so much jobs. My parents came by immigration. MY mom lived in a pueblo. IT was just a little town. There wasn’t much work there. Where my dad lived was in a pueblo as well. My dad parents died so he didn’t have much money. My mom came here in 1917 by legs. MY parents did come by choice so they could start a new life instead in Mexico.

My great grandparents, Joe Seymour and Bonnie Hudkins were my grandfather’s parents on my dad’s side, and they changed the denomination in which they believe several times. Joe grew up going to an Episcopal church as a boy, but as a young man, he converted to the Lutheran church when he married my great-grandmother Bonnie who was born and raised a Lutheran. While my grandfather was young, my great-grandfather sent him without telling my great-grandmother to an Episcopal Boys Home to correct his misbehavior. However, my great grandmother got upset that my grandfather took him to the boys’ home and there were other religious differences which led them to leave the Episcopal and Lutheran church altogether and go to the Church of Christ. Once they got connected in the Church of Christ, they accepted the doctrine that they were the true church of the New Testament.