My Microfather : The Life Of My Grandfather

While driving home thinking about the grandson awakened the childhood memories and the constant battle, Andrew wrestled with on a daily basis as he tried not to dwell on them, but to leave them in the closet of his mind. Today it was as if the doors of his mind opened wide and the memories poured out clear and haunting, even though, he had resisted. Remembering how much he detested visiting his grandparent’s during summer vacations. Nevertheless, his parents insisted he go, leaving his elder brother, Joseph at home.

He was hard working, honest, and the smartest man I've ever met. In 94 years, i can assure you, he never broke a promise, never let someone down, and absolutely never disappointed his family name. Gramp excelled in an era in which nothing was done for you, there were no computers, and internet. An era in which you had to absorb, listen, and learn, something he was particularly good at. He was successful at everything, especially while at the helm of his trucking and logging company for over 50 years. One of the most demanding industries there is in our area, an industry that was constantly changing, and he never missed a beat. Gramp was always ahead of the curve, the best of the best, and a pioneer in his industry, and he took pride in that.

Stories told by a grandfather or an great aunt give a family its character, but no matter how much information you learn, there is always more; there are more adventures and more tragedy and more lessons. Hearing the stories of a relative’s experiences as a child, at high school, or how they raised their first child brings a family one step closer to that person and their family’s history. It is important to talk to family members and to record the stories of older relatives before they die and their stories die with them. The stories of the Coss-McDaniel family range from the humor of my dad being born in a bathtub to the tragedy of my Grandma Coss becoming paralyzed when my mother was only twelve.

My grandfather in law, Ray Schmitt, had a true connection with me and my family. Even though he was not directly related, he always treated me and my family like his sons and daughters. He would always welcome us with smiles and even though he fought through hard times, like occasion strokes, he never forgot to put a big smile on his face. My mom said, “ He was a devoted family man to everyone, and he was devoted to the faith, and that showed in his actions.”

In this paper I will be talking about an interview with my grandmother. My grandmother is sixty-two and was born on Valentine’s Day in 1955. My aunt, who is her sister, share the same birthday, but they are seven years apart. My grandmother’s name is Valeria but I call her Nana. She is from Georgia, but moved to St. Louis, Missouri in her early 20’s.

Even after being begged not to move from the tiny apartment to Clybourne Park, an all white part of Chicago, the Youngers decided to move anyway. They decided to take the leap of faith and start a new life in a part of town where they knew they wouldn’t be welcomed with open arms. They knew that they weren’t going to get to their new house and see a gift basket on the front porch. The Youngers had courage though, and they took the chance.

Being raised my maternal grandparents; most would say that I have an “old soul”. I would always want to know who my ancestors were and what accomplishments they’ve made to society. My grandparents always stressed the importance of knowing your heritage, respecting your family, maintaining a tight bond with your family members, and carrying on the family’s legacy. I will begin with my maternal side of the family. My maternal grandmother, Kathleen Powell, is the rock and heart of the family. Her parents were Mary and Jack Taylor. Jack was from Brooklyn, New York and Mary was from Suffolk, Virginia. Jack moved down to Suffolk, Virginia to leave with a family member and for work and met Mary at a church gathering with the family friend. Jack and Mary married after dating for 3 months and had three children, Raymond, Jack, and Kathleen. They were a hardworking

My grandfather’s role at that time was different. He used to also take care of my brother and me. I remember my grandfather was quite energetic. He used to work at a company called Scepter; in the piping division; as a machine operator. After school, he and I would take the bus to travel to Scarborough Mall Center for groceries. I enjoyed these trips with him. I remember always asking my grandpa to slow down or stop because I was tired. He was good at teaching me the mechanics of life. He would say, “You must be active in life to get things done.” Another thing he said was, “Work hard, do well in school to get a good job.” His teachings were practical. He was also great at spoiling me. Whenever we went out for groceries, if I saw something I wanted he would buy it for me. I loved spending time with him. Those trips were special to me. When we got home; he would read the newspaper and write

I often have my great-grandchildren over to my house. They love to sit around admiring all of my old war photos and listening to all of my great battle stories. I sometimes tend to over-exaggerate, but that is expected from an old man like me. James, the youngest of my great-grand children, is a bright boy. He always makes good grades and helps his father out whenever he needs it. I’ll never forget the day I decided to open up to him: to finally spill

My earliest retrospection of my trust in my brother took place in my first month of pre-school. I found myself in a situation most four years don’t end up in; I was left in a tornado. Up until this day no one knows how I was left on the school steps while everyone made it safely to the barn. All that is known is I was defiantly not where I needed to be. As my brother ran through the barn with me, he soon came to the realization that I was not there and the only thing separating him from me was the teacher saying it was too dangerous for him to get me. None of that mattered to him, he knew his baby sister needed him so he rose to the accession. If my brother was telling the story he would say he punched the teacher to run and get me, but my

My grandmother likes to believe that my grandfather left our world, to save his sons. If it weren’t for the fact that my grandfather had passed away, both my dad and my uncle would not have been home from work that day. In fact, both my dad and uncle, may have been in their office, or even walking the streets that moment when the planes crashed into the twin towers instantly destroying those buildings and all the buildings surrounding it. My dad and my uncle could have been anywhere in the city that day and time, and could have been severely hurt or worst-case scenario killed. Furthermore, my family was unlucky to have lost my grandfather so soon, but lucky to have ensured safety for my dad and my uncle when they were forced to miss work that very day.

My grandpa was born in 1946 and has 5 siblings, with him being the oldest among them. His father immigrated to Minnesota from Germany a few years before World War 2. My grandpa told me stories about my great-grandpa fighting for the Americans during the war, and at one point he was captured for several months by the Germans. He said they treated him surprisingly well, with his release following the collapse of Germany and Soviet occupation of Berlin. After the war, he returned to his farm in Minnesota where I believe he spent the rest of his life working until his death. My grandpa and his siblings also spent most of their childhood and teenage years helping on the farm.

Visiting my grandfather for the first time was very intimidating as a young child. He had poofy black hair and streaks of grey trailing through his beard. He was so tall that he had to stoop his head when he walked through a door way, and he always had a smell of a dusty campfire but I could never identify what it came from. As I continued to get to know him, I found that he wasn’t as frightening as I was expecting. He would always smile at me across the table when we had family dinners, and he would do this funny thing with his eyebrows that made them look like they were bouncing off his eyelashes. He would tell me stories of when he used to a truck driver for rock bands on tour. One time, he was in Florida and he made a night stop on the side of the road to sleep. Waking up in the middle of the night, he had to go pee really bad. When he climbed out of the truck he stepped right on the head of a sleeping crocodile. He was so scared that he didn’t have to go any further to pee.

My grandfather, Charles Warren Tupper, who I call Poppy, was born in Arlington, Massachusetts, on September 8, 1941. He lived in a farmhouse in New Hampshire with his mom, dad, sister, and his grandmother, when he was young. He is from the end of the Silent Generation, right before the Baby Boomer generation began. Children born during the Silent Generation are from a time of economic instability, and therefore are comprised of generally hard working people. Poppy is a compassionate, loving grandfather with a good sense of humor. He, along with his wife, my mimi, enjoy telling stories with the family during meals. He believes storytelling is important because, “you are relating to others the importance of human experiences and condition.” You are able to learn from other people’s stories. He is very important to me, and he has a number of stories he has shared with me that I enjoy hearing time and time again, and many new ones too. Some of the stories include how he met my mimi, the Wizbang story, and panic on the Kancamagus. Stories like these, teach us about accomplishments, mistakes, and general history.

His father, Richard Holt, was part English and German. He was born in Ohio and went on to join the army. He fought in Korean War as a lieutenant of his squadron. He also played minor league baseball as a catcher and loved the game. He was married twice, the first marriage was to a woman named Katherine, which was not very long, and then he eventually married my grandma, Madeleine Wolf. He had two sons and one daughter with Katherine and two sons with Madeleine. My dad said that Richard was a very wise man to him because he was an old man as a father. He had alot of experience and also coached my dad and uncle in baseball and football when they were younger. He worked in management his whole life and worked at many different places, and many different auto shops, and that makes a lot of sense because of the absolute love that he had for cars. He loved all kinds of cars and showed his love through all of the cars he owned. I only remember about five years of my grandpa’s life, but in those five years, I remember him having at least five different cars, and he barely drove anywhere. Richard smoked his whole life and it ended up catching up to him when he developed lung cancer which spread through his body and he died at the age of 72.