Grandparents

 Becoming a grandparent is one of those extra bonuses of life.    It is something we never gave much thought to in our younger days when busy with a career and raising a family of our own.   Now in our senior years it brings us much joy.  The only problem is we do not get to see them in person enough, except by Skype or pictures sent by email. 

Some of the fondest memories I have of my own grandparents was riding the Southern Pacific passenger train from Willows, in northern California to Glendale in southern California in the 1950’s with my maternal grandmother.   Each spring grandma would arrive by train, stay for a week and return home and this time my younger sister and I got to ride with her.  My parents would drive down a few days later.  It was a two- day trip and involved eating in the dining car and sleeping one night on the train.   Another memory is walking to the grocery store with my mother’s father, who was born in 1889.  He must have been about 65 years of age as we made our way down the back alley to the store some 10 or more blocks from their house.  Once in the store all I remember him buying was a can of Dinty Moore stew and saying, “better get this if we get caught short in case grandma does not want to cook.”  Later we learned he would make the walk by himself at times to replenish his supply of booze in his garage.   Most of his days were spent watching sports on the TV while smoking little black cigarettes and cussing out some politicians or telling us how he would tell solders in the trenches of WWI to keep their heads down as he was their sergeant.    He would mow his lawn with an old reel push mower with iron wheels.  He died at the age of 90 or 91 in a rest home after falling and breaking his hip.   Grandma died a year or two later at the age of 80 or 81 of cancer.  They both came from Pennsylvania and we know very little else about them or their ancestors. 

My father’s parents lived across the street from my mother’s parents making it convenient for visiting.  Both these grandparents were real estate brokers and worked right up until the day they died, my grandfather at the age of 68 and my grandmother at 72.   Both were smokers and died of strokes.   Going to work with them was an adventure showing houses to clients and helping put up “For Sale” signs.   My grandmother was born in Alabama in 1900 (?) and her family migrated to Alberta in the early 1900’s to work on the railroads.   My grandfather was born in Nebraska in 1894.  His ancestors migrated from Ireland to Ontario, Canada in the 1840’s where they took up farming.   Sometime in the early 1900’s after moving to Nebraska they moved to Alberta, Canada to work on the railroads and that is where my grandparents met and where my father was born.   

All I have to remember them by is a few pictures, some with writing on the back of where and when.   Hopefully my writings will be around for my grandchildren to remember me by.