Olivia Stanford Essay

We started sharing even more stories about how we loved foods that grandmothers made that you found amazing because of the “baked with love” moment you have for them. She explained that her grandmother was a very beautiful lady with sophistication and class. “No matter how she looked I always stared into her eyes so bright and blue.” Caroline then

of her life at the Civil war, because she loved helping people and that what she decided to do

After practically losing everything, she devoted her life to bigger causes. She supported the labor movement and became a part of the ‘Knights of Labor’ and gave inspiring speeches to the striking workers.

In her essay “Nine Days of Ruth,” Angela Morales eloquently yet humorously narrates the final nine days of her grandmother’s life. Initially, Morales reminisces about the day her grandmother Ruth passed away projecting a gothic, murky and vacant atmosphere. However, Morales shifts from a leaden tone to a more gratifying voice revealing her grandmother’s life trajectory: betrayal, death, and struggles. The author ends with a eulogy expressing to her grandmother that while other will bury with a different image or perspective in mind, she will bury her as a luminary. Make-believe, fantasy, and imagination play an important role in the essay because it conveys the beauty of death.

I really enjoyed reading about your grandma. I too understand the love and respect that you cherish for her. I hope my grandpa and grandma live to 94 years or more. I too believe that it’s unfair for younger generations to forget about our elderly people. I sometimes repeat and emphasis on this so much because I have seen some assisted living homes where the elderly people are so sad that you can see in their face the desperation to talk or be love by someone. Defending the rights that elderly people have is sometimes misunderstood and completely taken advantage. It’s sad to see how many children do this to their family members. I couldn’t forget about my grandpa and grandma they play a big role in the women that I am today.

If you are reading this, i’m sure you might be confused, but it makes perfect sense. She was always helping me, and I was always helping her. My grandma is my hero not simply because she respects me and understands me, but because she is always there for me, and she always has been. She shows up at our house at least once a week, and when I needed to talk to someone I always had her to talk

Despite the generational birth and childhood struggles as depicted in Three Generations of Native American women’s birth experience by Joy Harjo, The Black Mountain, 1977 by Donald Antrim shows a different type relationship between generations. The young native women experience reflects a struggling time of teenage pregnancy. The author expression that the woman made was “I was a poor, mixed-blood woman heavy with a child who would suffer the struggle of poverty, the legacy of loss.” (Nadlehaft, 2008 pg.126).

At times, we have to be at the verge of death to come to the realization of important things in life. We tend to be and act a certain way towards others without noticing, until it may be too late. In O’Connor’s story “A Good Man is Hard to Find,” the character of the grandmother portrays judgment, selfishness, and realization. While demonstrating the characteristics of a round character, in all, the grandmother goes from being a ruthless, critical woman in the beginning, to being an understanding, changed woman at the end.

In the short story “A Good Man Is Hard To Find” Flannery O 'Connor uses the grandmother as a main character. Baileys mother in this story views herself as a truthful, wise and righteous lady throughout. She uses her manipulation, lies, and persuasiveness to her advantage but soon the reader learns how honest those views are. She quickly reveals herself as a different person when those traits she usually uses to get what she wants fails her. She can easily persuade someone to get her way, but how she reacts when faced against somebody else who exhibits those same traits becomes a issue for her. In a sense grandmother plays a roll of being iconic to her family and friends this role causes her a destined death when its obvious she can not decide that sometimes a role is not needed and your truthful self is.

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

There she stands, all of five feet tall, short brown hair set in pin curls, dressed in modern day slacks and a flower print shirt. She is fierce, never afraid to speak her mind; she is my hero; she saved my life; she is my Grandma. Growing up was not an easy task for me, but my grandma made it so much easier. She would drive her four-door, tan Buick fifty miles one way from the small factory town of Warsaw, Indiana, to the college city of South Bend, Indiana, every weekend to retrieve me. She would pack me in the front seat of the car, opening the door, the familiar scent of grandma 's rose perfume mixed with her lemon air freshener greeted me like an old friend. Having my Grandpa sit in the back, due to the fact I got car sick. We would head off to the Kmart to buy my shoes, socks, underpants, and whatever else I may need. My mother figured it was my father 's job to provide me with these items, but since it was my Grandma picking me up, the burden fell upon her. This beautiful spitfire of a woman never complained, and if she

She had always wanted to be a helper, a person who motivated and inspired children at school, men at war, housewives, basically anyone she heard about that was struggling.

She was a strong woman with a big heart, a good example of true benevolence.

She raised her daughter to be respectful. “You never know where you might end up and who will get you there,” Gran said. Instilling this discipline in my mother, she intern instilled it in me and my other siblings. Therefore, because of my Gran Ma, I am where I am today.

My perception of her hadn’t changed until many years after she had passed. The pedestal I placed her on had not been knocked down exactly, but what once was a marble statue upon it, now sat a tarnished figurine. Still beautiful and magnificent but not holy pristine. My grandmother had lived either next door or with us since I was 5 years old. If truth be told, we had lived with her. A short time after my grandfather past away, she