Essay on My Grandmother

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.

Honor the Grandmothers takes a look at four Dakota and Lakota women who offer to share the stories of their lives to the reader. It is a heartfelt look into their hardships through racism, to their ongoing battle to pass along the rich history of their ancestors while fighting poverty on the reservation.

As an eight year old kid in the 80’s I remember watching the movie Popeye by Robin Williams. “I yam what I yam, and that’s all that I yam.” I sang this tune in my head and out loud over and over again. I even added lyrics to suit me., “I’ll be want I want to be, I am what I yam.” It may be my first attempt at being true to myself, a self-identification, a personal statement and a compass of sorts

For instance, Huttman asks, “Did we really believe that we had a right to force “life” on a suffering man who had begged for the right to die?” (344). Although, I do disagree with the Phil Donahue Show’s audience calling Huttmann a murderer, because she did not kill anyone at all. She only let Mac die when his body said that the time was right. Huttman experiences his death, “Then there was one soft sigh and I felt his hands go cold in mine. “Mac?” I whispered, as I waited for his chest to rise and fall again” (344). Since Huttman expresses concern for Mac, and she does nothing to cause his death proves to me that she is far from a murderer. Especially considering that she comforted and sympathized him.

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

It all began when I was about five years old, having sleepovers in my great grandma’s room. She loved telling stories and playing dress up with me. In her room she kept a lot of pillows on her bed. She had fancy pillows in a variety of sizes, shapes, colors, and textures. Every time I entered her room, she would allow me to jump around on the bed filled with pillows. All that jumping around and having all that fun felt amazing, and that's when I fell in love with one of her pillows and named it Bobby.

I remember it like it was yesterday, even though I was only three. We were all at home;

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.

“If my story can make the difference in just one person's life, just one, I know I will have fulfilled my purpose on this earth.” This mentality encompasses the true nature of heroism- the desire to impact the world for good without the need for affirmation or recognition. My grandmother, or Nanny, as she is affectionately called, has faced many challenges throughout her lifetime. Despite her troubled childhood, battle with depression, and years of illness, she courageously approaches each day with optimism and courage. Nannie comes face to face with “Grendel” everyday and is a hero for fighting with tenacity, selflessness, and humility.

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.

It was a Monday night; I remember it like it was yesterday. I had just completed my review of Office Administration in preparation for my final exams. As part of my leisure time, I decided to watch my favorite reality television show, “I love New York,” when the telephone rang. I immediately felt my stomach dropped. The feeling was similar to watching a horror movie reaching its climax. The intensity was swirling in my stomach as if it were the home for the butterflies. My hands began to sweat and I got very nervous. I could not figure out for the life of me why these feelings came around. I lay there on the couch, confused and still, while the rings continued. My dearest mother decided to answer this eerie phone call. As she

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.

Everyone has someone in their life that gives them a great amount of inspiration. The people that have given me the most inspiration are my Grandparents. My Grandmother has done a great deal for me in my life. My Grandfather has done something with his life that nobody expected him to do. My Grandparents have greatly changed my life. If it was not for them, I would not be the person I am today. My Grandmother is a great person inside and out.

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.