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Source: (consider it)
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Thread: Heaven: Stories my grandparents told me
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Sine Nomine*
Ship's backstabbing bastard
# 3631
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Posted
Southerners are born storytellers. I grew up hearing tales by master raconteurs. I'll start with one of my favorites, if everybody else will chip in also...
How many times I heard my grandmother Nomine tell this one. And how her eyes would roll with humor and appreciation when she got to the punch line. Gosh, I miss her, bitch though she could be.
My grandfather Nomine was a Baptist minister. He was called to a church in Nashville in the early 1930s in the depths of the Great Depression. The parsonage was in awful shape, but there was no money to fix it up, so my grandparents and their two small children moved into it "as is", grateful to have a home.
One of the church deacons had a son who had recently gone into the insurance business. Anxious to help his son, the deacon convinced the other deacons to take out a lavish insurance policy on the parsonage. Not long thereafter a tornado roared through that part of town, doing major damage to the parsonage. (I still shudder at my dad's description of cowering under the dining room table with his mother and sister as the tornado came up the street.)
The generous insurance policy allowed them to have the parsonage totally redone. New windows, new paint and wallpaper. Refinished floors. The works.
Grandmother would smile a bit and then segue into this story...
She had a farm she had inherited from her parents upon which was a barn. Insurance had been paid on the barn since it was built at the turn of the twentieth century. One day she got a letter from the insurance company saying an agent had been to the farm and inspected the barn. It was so decrepit that on such and such a day the insurance company would drop the coverage.
A week before the cancellation day a wind storm came up and as my grandmother said "blew the barn so flat you couldn't see it for the weeds." She called the insurance company and said "This is Mrs. Nomine. You sent me a notice several weeks ago saying you were cancelling the coverage on my barn. I just want you to know that your instincts were correct, but your timing was off."
With the proceeds of the insurance money she built a new barn which survives to this day.
Then, when she had finished her tale, she would slowly take a sip of her sherry and gaze around the room at her descendants and say...
The wind has always been my friend.
It never varied.
[ 30. March 2004, 05:49: Message edited by: Coot W*nkMeister Eckhardt ]
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daisymay
St Elmo's Fire
# 1480
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Posted
My granny's mother died in childbirth as did her new baby daughter when granny was 9 years old. Her father took to drink and the family went downhill. So granny was half-timer in the mill from 12yrs old. (Work half a day, school half a day)
Mill girls were wild. So granny and her sister would be going out to the dancing at night, against the wishes of their father. They used to lock their bedroom door, pretend to be asleep and sneak out. He would pile tin trays and other noisy objects inside the front door as an ambush for them when they came home.
Granny used to grin like a naughty teenager as she described how they would inch open the door, slip a tiny hand round and carefully remove the tin trays, creep in, pile them up and gaze innocently at him at crack of dawn the next day as they got up to get to the mill.
Another story was about how, as a suffragette, she was grabbed by a policeman and he squashed her so hard he cracked her ribs. She hated the police, and laughed because a friend cut his braces with a pair of scissors and he had to let her go and hold his trousers up!
She'd finish these stories with, "I'll never clean any man's shoes!"
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London
Flickr fotos
Posts: 11224 | From: London - originally Dundee, Blairgowrie etc... | Registered: Oct 2001
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Moo
Ship's tough old bird
# 107
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Posted
My grandmother used to tell a story of a young woman (I don't know whether she was a relative), whose "young man" came to dinner at her house.
Like most women of the time, she had the idea that it was unladylike to eat much. She ate perhaps five forkfuls of food during the entire meal.
After dinner was over, the women went to the kitchen and the young man and the father went to sit in the parlor. The young man went into the kitchen to ask the young woman something, and he found her eating peas out of the pot with a teacup.
When I heard my grandmother tell this story, it ended there. My cousin, however, heard more. After finding her eating peas that way, the man decided to propose to her. He had been concerned that anyone who ate so little would be weak and sickly.
Moo
[ 05. October 2003, 00:04: Message edited by: Moo ]
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Kerygmania host
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See you later, alligator.
Posts: 20365 | From: Alleghany Mountains of Virginia | Registered: May 2001
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marmot
Mountain mammal
# 479
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Posted
My gram felt that young women shouldn't wash their hair more than once a week. Her "story" passed down to me through my mother, was that a young girl had once washed her hair before bedtime and braided it, leaving it still damp in the morning. On the walk to school, the braids froze solid and cracked off at the scalp, leaving her "bald as an egg".
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Join me in "The Legion of Bad Monkeys"
Posts: 2754 | From: The land of Saint Damien | Registered: Jun 2001
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Sine Nomine*
Ship's backstabbing bastard
# 3631
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Posted
These are wonderful stories. Please, everyone, continue. Please.
Posts: 10696 | Registered: Dec 2002
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Pax Romana
Shipmate
# 4653
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Posted
When my grandmother was a teenager, she and her family (her mother, her father, her brother and her teenage sister) were asleep one night when her parents were awakened by loud knocking. A man, a stranger who just happened to be passing by, had seen that their house was on fire and was trying desperately to rouse them.
Well, the entire family was awakened and they all got safely out of the house. The stranger stayed to help get them all out, but then he disappeared. Meanwhile, in the confusion and darkness nobody had gotten a good look at his face.
My great-grandfather put out advertisements to try to find the man, but he never came forward.
Maybe he was a guardian angel? Who knows?
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I used to wake up at 4 A.M. and start sneezing, sometimes for five hours. I tried to find out what sort of allergy I had but finally came to the conclusion that it must be an allergy to consciousness.
James Thurber
Posts: 4598 | From: New York City | Registered: Jun 2003
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Nunzia
Shipmate
# 4766
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Posted
My grandfather came to America from Italy, all alone in steerage, at age sixteen. He suffered the usual troubles of new immigrants. He loved greenhorn stories. Here's one:
There was a paisano named Guido. He was FOB (Fresh Off the Boat) from Naples, and could only speak a few words of English.
He got a job, but the American who worked with him was always trying to get him into trouble. So the American says to Guido one day, "Hey, Guido. You want the boss to like you, right?"
"Yeah, sure!", says Guido.
"Ok", says the American. "When the boss calls you, you say, 'OK, boss, you f*cking son of a b*tch.' Understand?"
Guido practices the new phrase until he hasit right. When the boss calls him, he smiles and says, "OK, boss, you f*cking son of a b*tch!"
The boss runs up to the two guys and says to the American, "You're fired!"
Posts: 1903 | From: Crazy-glued to the ledge | Registered: Jul 2003
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Josephine
Orthodox Belle
# 3899
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Posted
My grandmother had lots of wonderful stories. I guess my favorite was about my great aunt Laline, one of her younger sisters. (There were 12 children; their parents were sharecroppers in Mississippi, near Winona.)
Laline was a bit of a spitfire. She did whatever she wanted to do. And one day, for whatever reason, what she wanted to do was climb the tree in the front yard.
Now, this was around the year 1900. Although the family was poor, Laline was dressed as any young girl in 1900 in Mississippi would have been dressed. She was not wearing jeans and a T-shirt!
Yet she managed to shinny up the tree to the branches, and get up high in the tree.
And her mother came out, saw her, and yelled, "Laline, I don't want to see you up in that tree!"
And Aunt Laline's response was, "Then go back into the house!"
(I sometimes think my daughter is channelling Aunt Laline's spirit -- same attitude, and she loves climbing, too.)
Oh, and another story (can I do two?) -- one of my grandmother's younger brothers got an appointment to West Point (all of the kids went to college). He was an aviator. He and another young man were demonstrating the newfangled airplanes over the Potomac, when the plane (I've seen a picture of it -- it looks like it was made of canvas, balsa wood, and twine) -- anyway, the plane flipped, and my uncle fell out of the plane and was killed. The other aviator hung on, crashed with the plane, was rescued.
And went on to invent seat belts.
So next time you buckle up, think of me, and say a prayer for my great uncle, William DeVotie Billingsley. It's because of him that seat belts were invented!
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I've written a book! Catherine's Pascha: A celebration of Easter in the Orthodox Church. It's a lovely book for children. Take a look!
Posts: 10273 | From: Pacific Northwest, USA | Registered: Jan 2003
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Ariel
Shipmate
# 58
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Posted
I didn't get to know my grandparents well, as I lived overseas and they had all died by the time I was 15. I remember my aunt telling me that when her grandmother was a girl, one of the things she and her best friend used to do for fun on a Sunday was walk up to Hampstead Heath to watch the stagecoaches come and go.
My aunt didn't have much more to say on it but it's an image that's lingered with me and in my mind's eye I can still see two young Victorian girls hurrying off anxious not to miss anything. All the bustle of people coming and going, the excitement of coaches leaving for distant cities that they had heard about, may have seen pictures of, but would probably never visit or be able to visit. Maybe the beauty of the horses appealed to them at that age as well, and of course there might also be some handsome young gentlemen. One could dream and maybe speculate a bit about some of the people. And say the sort of things you say at that age: that you wanted a dress like that, or one day when you're married you'll go to that place for a holiday.
It must have provided a touch of glamour and a bit of excitement in otherwise unsensational lives. Life was a lot simpler then and so was entertainment. OK, it isn't much of a story, but I've always felt a sort of kinship with them.
Posts: 25445 | Registered: May 2001
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Tortuf
Ship's fisherman
# 3784
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Posted
My great uncle (Oakey Patteson) shot off both of his legs at the knee in a hunting accident. This never stopped him from doing anything, especially hunting and fishing. One day Oakey, my grandfather, etc. were on a fishing trip, waiting out the rain under a tarp. In order that the rain might pass more quickly, they were drinking whiskey. They looked up and saw an older man and a young boy standing on a ridge close to them. Presently, the young boy came with a tin cup and said "My paw wanted to know if you could let him have some of your whiskey." They poured a little and the boy took it to his paw. This seemed to lubricate paw's social instincts, so he and the boy came over to the tarp and sat down.
This being West Virginia, and paw being who he was, store bought whiskey was not very potent stuff (comparatively speaking.) Paw started going through their reserves of whiskey at an alarming rate. Oakey, wearing long legged khakis, crossed his legs, reached back and found a tent peg and a mallet. Then, while carrying on normal conversation, Oakey began tapping the tent peg through his leg with the mallet (through a hole in his prosthetic leg.) He kept on slowly tapping until it came through the other side, slid the peg up and down a few times and handed the peg and mallet to paw.
Paw grabbed the young boy and took off running.
Posts: 6963 | From: The Venice of the South | Registered: Dec 2002
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The Artisan
Shipmate
# 4277
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Posted
My Granny used to tell me that is was very important that you washed out the empty milk bottles really well before putting them out on the doorstep for the milkman to collect. She explained that if a spider came along and saw dirty milk bottles he would think, "hmm, that would be a good house to live in as they don't keep things very clean!"
I'm not sure I ever totally believed her but if you find your house infested with spiders, try looking at the state of your empty milk bottles!
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Sometimes our best intentions do not go
amiss; sometimes we do as we meant to.
The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow
that seemed hard frozen: may it happen for you Sheenagh Pugh
Posts: 671 | Registered: Mar 2003
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Sine Nomine*
Ship's backstabbing bastard
# 3631
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Posted
These are really great stories. I miss all my grandparents so much.
This one is a bit politically incorrect, but you've got to consider the source and the era. To this day it's still told in the family.
My great grandmother had a friend who was far richer than she was, and who was quite a clothes horse. Loved high fashion and jewelry. Whenever she came to a party or dinner at Mammy's house she would always step into the kitchen so Mammy's cook could comment on her latest outfit.
On one occasion she was more dolled up than usual and went into the kitchen for inspection. Mary looked her up and down and said "Lord, Miss Edna, you sure is re-hung tonight!"
So now, nearly a hundred years later, after all those involved are long dead, if my sister shows up a little too dressed up, I'll say "Honey, you sure are re-hung." And she knows exactly what I mean.
Posts: 10696 | Registered: Dec 2002
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Pax Romana
Shipmate
# 4653
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Posted
quote:
Originally posted by Ariel:
I didn't get to know my grandparents well, as I lived overseas and they had all died by the time I was 15. I remember my aunt telling me that when her grandmother was a girl, one of the things she and her best friend used to do for fun on a Sunday was walk up to Hampstead Heath to watch the stagecoaches come and go.
In my Grandma's day there was only one high school in her area, and it was somewhat of a distance from where she lived. All three children in her family graduated from high school, and her sister even went on to college, which was a really big deal in those days. (Grandma was born in 1902.) Anyway, Grandma and one of her friends used to drive a horse and buggy to school. The way Grandma told it, the two girls would have such a giggling good time driving that horse and buggy that they would sometimes have to stop and compose themselves so that they could enter the school building with some sort of dignity.
My other grandmother made the trip from Italy to the United States on her own, with her two young children (my father and my uncle) in tow. My grandfather had come over here first, then had sent for them. My grandmother, who was from a hill town near Naples, knew absolutely no English and had probably never been anywhere outside of her town in her life. Yet she made the trip across the ocean (hating every minute of the sea voyage) with a baby and a toddler, to join her husband in a strange country. She made a life for herself in her new home, learned to speak very strongly accented English (she never lost that accent, even after being in the United States for about 70 years) and lived to be 93 years old, outliving my grandfather by many years. Talk about strength and courage!
By the way, my grandmother did not travel in steerage. One stipulation that she had given my grandfather was that she would not travel that way. He had to get her a regular ticket (probably 2nd Class). Since he didn't have the money, my grandfather ended up borrowing money from a loan shark to pay for the ticket! I don't know how he paid it back. My uncle, who told me this story, didn't tell me that part.
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I used to wake up at 4 A.M. and start sneezing, sometimes for five hours. I tried to find out what sort of allergy I had but finally came to the conclusion that it must be an allergy to consciousness.
James Thurber
Posts: 4598 | From: New York City | Registered: Jun 2003
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Sine Nomine*
Ship's backstabbing bastard
# 3631
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Posted
This is so great, people.
I'm tearing up as I read some of these stories.
Don't you miss them? I wish so badly they were still here.
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Sine Nomine*
Ship's backstabbing bastard
# 3631
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Posted
Sorry for the double post, but for you folks who don't "get" America, these American stories should give you a clue far more than any "pond war" postings will.
As do the English stories about England. Maybe this is really how we communicate.
Posts: 10696 | Registered: Dec 2002
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daisymay
St Elmo's Fire
# 1480
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Posted
My grandad was in the Royal Navy - on sailing ships. He joined as a teenager. One of his stories was about chasing slavers.
The RN ships had to chase, catch and take over the slave traders who were breaking the law by still conveying slaves across the world from Africa.
When they caught a ship, they used to open the hold and let the slaves out. Grandad said it was horrifying how they were crammed together, and the stink was unbearable. He was furious that people were treated like that, and hurt and sad at the same time. Also proud that he'd been involved in so many rescues.
So I never had to learn about slavery from history books, just listen to him. Makes it much more real.
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London
Flickr fotos
Posts: 11224 | From: London - originally Dundee, Blairgowrie etc... | Registered: Oct 2001
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duchess
Ship's Blue Blooded Lady
# 2764
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Posted
My great-grandma from Denmark ate scraps in a pub in Copenhagen cuz her family was so poor. After her mother died, they all left Copenhagen to go to Ellis Island. After that, they went to a Danish colony in Iowa. She attended Danish School every day after regular school & a Danish church (Lutheran). She married my great-grandpa, a flying Daneman, who took off and never came back when my grandfather was 3. She later remarried a nice guy and died right before I was born. My grandfather never got over his dad leaving which explained why he did not take my parents divorce well.
My mom & my aunt still talk about how she never got over her mom's death & what a dear woman she was but no one much talks about great-grandpa.
I also got a great Indian war story (not very pc) which I told in SoF some months ago. If I can find it, I might link to it later.
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♬♭ We're setting sail to the place on the map from which nobody has ever returned ♫♪♮
Ship of Fools-World Party
Posts: 11197 | From: Do you know the way? | Registered: May 2002
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duchess
Ship's Blue Blooded Lady
# 2764
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Posted
The thread was deleted. I will retype a short version.
My great (x 5) grandma, Miss Knox, lived with her family in Indian Territory. Her sister went to go visit her friend one day. Well a band of Indians came and killed everyone in the family. I will leave out details since this is heaven. A squaw took a liking to Grandma Knox. Grandma knox lived with this Indian tribe for years. One day at an Indian trading post, she ran into her sister. Her sister could tell it was her since she had kept a piece of the dress she had on the day the Indians came on her outfit (I don't remember if it was a belt or what, but it was hanging on her). Her sister called her by her pet name and emotional Oprah moment happened.
My great (x5) aunt (my grandma Knox's sister) later on married a guy with the last name Polk and had a son named James Knox Polk, one of the presidents of the United States. True story, I have documents backing it up. I have heard many entertaining versions of this story through the years and finally got to read about it after my mom let me go through some papers.
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♬♭ We're setting sail to the place on the map from which nobody has ever returned ♫♪♮
Ship of Fools-World Party
Posts: 11197 | From: Do you know the way? | Registered: May 2002
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Tortuf
Ship's fisherman
# 3784
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Posted
Another story about Uncle Oakey. He and Aunt Bebe had a lodge they shared with another couple. One day the other couple brought a minister from Scotland to see the lodge. Bebe's aunt Val, being shy, took off for the interior of the house as soon as she saw a car pull up. The Reverend Reed was introduced to Uncle Oakey who undertook to introduce the Reverend to everyone else.
Unfortunately, Uncle Oakey was extremely hard of hearing. He had to ask the Reverend for his name again. The Reverend replied "Reed. Reed it tis." Oakey then proceeded to introduce the Reverend Reedittis to everyone else at the lodge.
Then Aunt Bebe decided to take the Reverend Reedittis on a tour of the lodge. She ended up in the her bedroom where she decided to show off how big the closets were. She opened up the door to reveal Aunt Val who had chosen that closet as a hiding place. Aunt Bebe saw aunt Val, said "And this is our aunt Val," closed the door and walked off as if nothing unusual had happened.
I am led to understand that the visit to West Virginia has become a Reed family story as well.
Posts: 6963 | From: The Venice of the South | Registered: Dec 2002
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Josephine
Orthodox Belle
# 3899
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Posted
My grandmother, my father's mother, had always planned to be a missionary to China. As a result, she wasn't planning to marry. But when she went away to college, she found that she got so homesick, she almost couldn't bear it. She decided she'd never be able to go to China.
When she returned home from college, the principal of the local high school (the one she'd attended, in fact), took a fancy to her. He was nearly 20 years older than she, and had never married. He started calling on her, and one winter evening, he took her out on a sleigh ride.
As she told the story, when they got back to the house, he kissed her. And so, of course, they got married.
"We had to," my grandmother told her grandchildren. After all, he'd kissed her!
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I've written a book! Catherine's Pascha: A celebration of Easter in the Orthodox Church. It's a lovely book for children. Take a look!
Posts: 10273 | From: Pacific Northwest, USA | Registered: Jan 2003
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Sir Kevin
Ship's Gaffer
# 3492
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Posted
My paternal grandmother, having left the University of California around 1912 with a degree in Home Economics, majoring in nutrition, was a cattle rancher. Grammy used to tell me about her gasoline washing machine. Apparently it was a V-twin (like a Harley -Davidson on its side) Maytag and had to be kick-started. This is likely one reason she lived to age 94: she was no stranger to hard w*rk! She had this career until she married at age 30 to a young up-and-coming engineer with the Los Angeles Electric Company who eventually became third in command (Exec VP) of Southern California Gas. They built a large house next door to a bean field, ten blocks away from UCLA. To this day, it is free from earthquake damage. Her half-nieces, both very much alive, are in their 90's; one is still a world traveller!
![[Votive]](graemlins/votive.gif) ![[Angel]](graemlins/angel.gif) ![[Tear]](graemlins/tear.gif)
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If you board the wrong train, it is no use running along the corridor in the other direction Dietrich Bonhoeffer
Writing is currently my hobby, not yet my profession.
Posts: 30517 | From: White Hart Lane | Registered: Oct 2002
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Ronja
Shipmate
# 4693
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Posted
My greatgrandfather on the paternal side was a missionary to India for the Salvation Army. I remember meeting him once, when he was very old and in a nursing home. The family had a very ordinary Swedish surname, but as the British were in charge (or had been, my grasp of colonial history is not good, when did India achieve independence?)the name was quickly anglified and we have kept it so ever since.
The family stayed in India for many years and my grandfather was twelve when they left to return to Sweden. Since he had been born in India he wasn't allowed to leave without special paperwork, because he was an Indian by birth.
When my grandfather married, the first thing my grandmother had to learn was how to cook hot Indian curry. This is still a family tradition and my father and his brother always make it for family gettogethers. It was also the meal I and my husband cooked together on our first date... ![[Cool]](cool.gif)
Posts: 742 | From: Up North | Registered: Jul 2003
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biscuit
Shipmate
# 3550
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Posted
Grandad S (my mum's dad) was an Ulsterman, from one of the fishing villages on Belfast Lough and a great one for stories.
As he was a retired Salvation Army officer (minister), stories tended to involve the places and people he'd been involved with.
One that always made me laugh was the moving carollers. The Salvation Army in the UK has a tradition of carolling in town centres with their brass bands. The trouble was - at the time of this story - that the shops of the time were pre-department stores, just the single space with counter around and a couple of shop-keepers complained about the noise of the carolling. So they were asked to move (IIRC, the local policeman politely requested this).
So the whole band moved constantly for the whole of the session... shuffling two feet one way and then two feet back...
b.
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"The strength of the fish is in the water" (proverb)
Current flavour: Chocolate hobnob
Posts: 455 | From: South Hobbiton | Registered: Nov 2002
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musician
Ship's grin without a cat
# 4873
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Posted
These are great stories! I never knew my grandparents...can I tell a story from my dad??
He grew up in the west of Ireland early last century on a farm. His story was that his dad had moved from Co Galway to Co Sligo after the Famine.
Dad was one of identical twins. They got up to all sorts..dad remembered standing waiting to meet his girlfriend and watching a motorbike roar past with his girlfriend on the back behind his twin.
Anyway, to his story.
A local farmer died at a great age when the twins were young lads.
The wake was to be in the farmers house and it went on for a bit. Then a bit more. The twins managed to behave foras long as they could
(probably about 20 minutes!)then they wriggled under the bed on which the deceased was tied, cut the ropes tying him and up he sat.
Dad's version was that folk were going out the house by door and window.
Another time his mother had spent months fattening up a ?goose ?turkey for Christmas. Off she went to town and came back to discover that the house was still stnding, but it wasn't in best repair.
The twins had tried to bake a cake, but gone off to the yard to practice. They only realised the cake wasn't at the correct temp when the smoke billowed through the door. They panicked and threw cold water onto the oven to put out the peat in the range. The range, being iron, cracked.
Their practice hadn't been too good. Long before Indiana Jones, they'd been target practicing with a whip. Shame the Christmas bird got in the way and was minus a head!
Posts: 1569 | Registered: Aug 2003
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Huia
Shipmate
# 3473
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Posted
My paternal Grandfather was a carpenter in business with his brother. During the Boer War he accepted a last minute job building stalls for horses in a troopship bound for South Africa. He got so busy working that until he came up on deck he didn't realise the ship had weighed anchor and was sailing out of Wellington Harbour.
Fortunately for Grandad, large boats need a pilot aboard to navigate in and out of Wellington Harbour so he got a ride back with the pilot boat which dropped him off at the wharf nearest home. Apparently Grandma complained when he was late for tea and it was some time before she actually believed he had almost left the country.
Later in his building career Grandad was one of the workers building Wellington Railway Station.
At that time there weren't many tall buildings in the area, and the Station overlooked one of the poshest Hotels. Imagine the surprise of the workmen when a woman came out onto the Hotel roof and stripped off some of her clothes to sunbathe. One of the foremen ran over to the hotel and a very well-dressed man accompanied by a woman was seen to come out onto the roof and say something. The sunbather wrapped herself in a towel and departed rather quickly.
I used to love Grandad telling his stories - with a naughty twinkle in his eyes.
Thanks for this thread Sine.
Huia
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Charity gives food from the table, Justice gives a place at the table.
Posts: 10382 | From: Te Wai Pounamu | Registered: Oct 2002
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Alaric the Goth
Shipmate
# 511
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Posted
I don't remeber my grandparents telling any stories, but my parents ara lot older than me, as old as the grandparents of people I was at school with, so here are some of their stories:
My mother was a daydreamer when she was a girl. She had three younger brothers (and an elder sister). One day, she took the youngest baby brother out for a walk in his pram, the two older boys hanging onto the sides. They went to the local park,and my daydreaming mum proceeded to walk down a slope - wheeling the pram straight into the park pond! Everyone was soaked; the baby's things floating on the water!
During WW2 she was in the Women's Royal Air Force (WRAF), stationed in Lincolnshire. One day, out in the fields, 'in the middle of nowhere',she need to relieve herself, and was miles from the nearest toilet! She selected a field, with a long earth bank at one end, and squatted down... Along the embankment came a passenger train! She was so embarrassed!
My father has a strange tale of when he was on holiday in Holland. A 'Dutchman' (or so it seemed, hurried towards him shouting 'Willi!' (pron. 'Villi' I beleive) in an animated fashion, but when he looked at my dad cloesely, went off, seeming disappointed. Now, my dad's name is 'William', and so was his father's, and by all accounts my grandfather had looked similar to my dad when that age. My grandfather's brother had deserted from the army during WW1, and no-one had found out what became of him. Except perhaps my dad on that day...?
Posts: 3322 | From: West Thriding | Registered: Jun 2001
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Sine Nomine*
Ship's backstabbing bastard
# 3631
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Posted
Here is my great-great-granfather's description of the Great Meteor Shower of 1833, from his memoirs...
In the fall of 1833, while my father was living at the Barkesdale place, the wonderful meteoric shower occurred, about which much has been written. Brother Silas and I were sleeping upstairs. About day, or perhaps a little before, Charles (a colored man) came running to the house, crying out in great alarm "Master! Master! The stars are falling!" This awoke Silas and myself, and we came down stairs. THe heavens were ablaze with what seemed to be falling stars. It was a grand, a wonderful and an awful sight. The explosive and whizzing sounds of the meteors were continually heard. Long streams of fiery light remained in the track of many of them. The meteoric shower continued until obscured by the morning light. The whizzing sound of the meteors, though somewhat abated, could be heard for some time after it was too light to see them. Father and Mother looked serious, but not alarmed, and hence I was not frightened. Many thought that the last day had come, and hence were much alarmed.
Posts: 10696 | Registered: Dec 2002
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Benedictus
Shipmate
# 1215
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Posted
My grandmother was born in 1890 in South Carolina, so her grandparents and her parents and their brothers and sisters were alive during the American War Between the States. (My grandmother was a little soft-spoken woman who rarely spoke sternly to her grandchildren. One exception was if you used the phrase "Civil War" in her presence. So I have to call it The War Between the States if I'm telling her stories.)
About sunset one evening, on a farm in South Carolina during the War Between the States, close to suppertime, a little black boy rode up on a mule and called out, "Sherman's coming! Sherman's coming!" and rode off to warn the next farm. (For those who don't know, this is General William Tecumseh "War is hell" Sherman, who marched through Georgia to the sea, burning, pillaging, and destroying everything in his path, 40 miles wide, as he went. I grew up in Georgia, he still doesn't win a lot of local popularity contests.) Well, they knew he was in the neighborhood, and they knew what that meant; if Sherman was coming, there wouldn't be much left. My great great grandmother was there with the children and slaves, all the men were away fighting. The table was already set for supper, and she snatched all the silver off the table and threw it, with a few other things, down the well, it was about all she had time to do before Sherman rode up with his men. He demanded supper, and demanded my great great grandmother cook it herself, rather than tell the slaves to do it. She fixed pancakes, under the supervision of one of his men, and realized after she had served the men, she had forgotten syrup. She took it to them in a little glass pitcher and, from suspicion she had poisoned it, forced her to drink the pitcher full of syrup herself. After supper, they went through the house and destroyed or took anything of value, including slashing paintings and smashing furniture. The silver she had thrown in the well was the only valuable thing that was saved.
The pitcher and the little table it was placed on, I've been told, became family heirlooms, and my sister has some of the silver.
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Resentment: Me drinking poison and expecting them to die
Posts: 1378 | From: Hertfordshire | Registered: Aug 2001
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daisymay
St Elmo's Fire
# 1480
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Posted
I love these stories. This thread is marvellous to read. Whether they are sad or cheerful, they are so worth reading.
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London
Flickr fotos
Posts: 11224 | From: London - originally Dundee, Blairgowrie etc... | Registered: Oct 2001
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Nunzia
Shipmate
# 4766
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Posted
I wish I knew more of my grandparent's stories. They never learned much English, and we grandchildren never learned Italian. I guess they figured it would do us no good here.
I do remember my grandpa Pasquale telling me how he fell in love with and courted the beautiful Angelina, who had come from Bari, Italy with her family. She was still pining for the boyfriend she left behind, and Grandpa, poor and uneducated as he was, wasn't much of a catch in anyone's eyes.
Nevertheless, he pursued her relentlessly, serenading her with his accordian.
Finally, he said, "Angelina, I'm not much. If you marry me I can't give you money or fine things. But I promise you this...your children will be good-looking".
That was it. They married and had five beautiful daughters.
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Posts: 1903 | From: Crazy-glued to the ledge | Registered: Jul 2003
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LesleyW
Yorkshire Lass
# 4445
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Posted
My step father (born 1908) was, amongst other things, a bus driver and very proud of the fact that he drove the first ever double decker bus in Bradford.
He used to tell me how, because he was the only person on his shift with transport (a motor bike and side car) the other men at the depot used to ask him for a lift into work, and he didn't like to refuse. He would travel from home to Bradford, some 8 miles or so, mostly on main roads, and pick them up en route. The record for the number of men who reached the depot on one journey in this way was six. In addition to him, there was one on the pillion, one on the luggage rack, one in the sidecar and two sat on the sidecar body.
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Me. Myself. I.
Posts: 476 | From: Round the bend and over the hill. (UK) | Registered: Apr 2003
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Nicolemr
Shipmate
# 28
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Posted
this is a story about my great-great grandfather, but its my grandfather who passed it down to us.
his grandfather was a conductor on the underground railroad, smuggling escaped slaves to freedom in canada. they were the last stop on their "line" of the railroad, and it was actually their job to bring the ex-slaves across the canadian border. they had an underground hiding hole, which still exists, (i've seen it, there is now a monument there) but that was only used in times of emergency, most of the time the escapes stayed in the barn, and ate in the kitchen with the family.
i just did a google search and to my surprise actually found this webpage:
thomas root house
and the story is correct except that he was not a quaker, i believe he was methodist.
[ 07. October 2003, 19:41: Message edited by: nicolemrw ]
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On pilgrimage in the endless realms of Cyberia, currently traveling by ship. Now with live journal!
Posts: 11803 | From: New York City "The City Carries On" | Registered: May 2001
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duchess
Ship's Blue Blooded Lady
# 2764
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Posted
A couple stories now from my dad's father about my great grandpa, a Calvinist who was a Quaker Rev., rescued a lady who tried to commit suicide in the countryside of New York by drinking Hydrochloric Acid. He had been milking a cow, so he brought over the cream (which is at the top I believe of the bucket when you milk a cow) and had her drink it. Saved her life.
Quaker great-grandpa was a rather conservsative Calvinist who could not stand it when my Rev. Grandpa joined the Peace Party. He read him the riot act. That is why my own father FREAKED OUT when I told him a year ago that I am a Calivinist. My dad then informed me of this trivia "your great-grandpa was a Quaker Calvinist" and told me about him lecturing my grandpa on his beliefs. More useless trivia: My Rev. grandpa was a pacifist but still worked as a Chaplain for the military in WWII.
[ 07. October 2003, 20:05: Message edited by: duchess ]
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♬♭ We're setting sail to the place on the map from which nobody has ever returned ♫♪♮
Ship of Fools-World Party
Posts: 11197 | From: Do you know the way? | Registered: May 2002
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Basket Case
Shipmate
# 1812
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Posted
I heard lots of stories,more than my sisters and cousins, because I was the first grandchild on both sides, & very very close to my mother's mother (much closer than to my mother).
The first one that comes to mind, is a story about my great-grandfather in San Francisco bringing home some kittens who appeared abandoned outdoors,during a storm.
He put them in the oven to warm them up - you can guess what happened. No one ever had to tell the end of that story.
The second, my grandmother told often, about her grandmother in Ireland, sitting for hours,looking out the window. She was "watching her dead children walk by".
Finally: my grandfather's father had a farm on the Kings River,near what's now Merced,California.
One day Joaquin Murietta & several of his gang stopped there and "traded" one of their tired horses for a fresh one from the farm.
I can't leave this out: my grandpa (as a boy)slept with a pig named "Jim Budd" after the governor of Calif at the time. My grandpa talked about Jim Budd, the pig, a lot.
Posts: 1157 | From: Pomo (basket) country | Registered: Nov 2001
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Sine Nomine*
Ship's backstabbing bastard
# 3631
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Posted
This thread has gotten me re-reading my great-great-grandfather's memoir.
Here are two excerpts about his wife...
After we went to Valley Farm, my wife brought the spinning wheel and loom into use. She was spinning one day, and I said to her: "Wife, how handsome and graceful you look at the spinning wheel!" She said there was not so much grace and beauty about it; that is was the idea her being at work that was so pleasing to me.
and...
My wife was a very strict observer of the Sabbath. I always thought I was strict enough; but she kept a little in advance of me in this respect. I thought she stood so straight that she leant back a little. I more than once reminded her of the boy who, as a means of encouraging him to be good, respect the Sabbath and reach the better land, was told it was always Sunday there, and who answered, "I don't want to go where it is always Sunday!" I reckon the little fellow thought he had had enough of Sundays in this world.
Posts: 10696 | Registered: Dec 2002
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Alt Wally
Cardinal Ximinez
# 3245
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Posted
My maternal Grandmother and her family were poor Missourians. People who would fondly be known as white trash now. Both her father Luther (whose full name was Luther Othel Russell which is a name I love) and uncle Elmer lost their jobs working on the railroad during the depression. Elmer being unmarried left for Chicago and returned several times wearing nice new suits, carrying cash and with presents for my Grandmother and Great Aunt (Alleta and Hazel if your keeping score at home). The last time Elmer came home he was in a box with a hole between his eyes. All anybody knew was that he had been in some kind of "accident".
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Laura
General nuisance
# 10
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Posted
I had a great aunt whose name was pronounced "Byew-nie", but it was really "Buena" Vista after the eponymous battle. A great-great uncle went insane and shot his car and then himself in a tragic murder-suicide.
But the best family story is about my Auntie. She was my father's great aunt, who died at 107. She was born in 1894, and I had the privilege of knowing her, and my oldest son met her several times and I hope will remember her - five generations in the same room that day. Anyway, she never married. In her youth she was with the telephone company, as an operator -- you know, the kind who switched the lines, and later was an accountant for them. I saw her daguerrotype from then -- she was beautiful, big puffy bun and puffed sleeves Anne Shirley would have died for. She loved a man from outside of her little town, he was an engineer (designing tracks and stations for the railroad), and got engaged to him. He would come on the train to her little town from his hometown near Lexington, KY. One day, she told me, she got a telegraph from his mother that he was ill, and she should come. She rushed to the station, but the train had gone. She took the next available train. When she got to his station, his sister met her to say that he was dead. She never dated again, never married. When she was buried in 2001, she wore his ring. She told me "I guess I never liked any other man well enough as him." Faithful for 86 years. I hope they're together now.
[ 08. October 2003, 03:11: Message edited by: Laura ]
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Love is the only sane and satisfactory answer to the problem of human existence. - Erich Fromm
Posts: 16883 | From: East Coast, USA | Registered: Apr 2001
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Sine Nomine*
Ship's backstabbing bastard
# 3631
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Posted
I'm thinking this may be the first, and probably the last, thread I've ever started that might get saved to Limbo. Not that it has anything to do with me.
It's kind of like a Ken Burns documentary.
Posts: 10696 | Registered: Dec 2002
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Grits
Compassionate fundamentalist
# 4169
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Posted
quote:
God, Laura.
We gotta get her to Nashville for a meet, Sine. You know you'd love it, I know Tortuf would love it. She can't be overseas, because: a)It's 3 in the morning over there, and if she's still up, she's too weird for us (HA!), and; b)Her husband's into power tools.
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Lord, fill my mouth with worthwhile stuff, and shut it when I've said enough. Amen.
Posts: 8419 | From: Nashville, TN | Registered: Feb 2003
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Huia
Shipmate
# 3473
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Posted
I never knew Queenie, my maternal grandmother who died before I was born, though now I live in the same town I've planted a rose on her grave.
Anyway, she was quite short (about 4 ft 10) and young looking even after having had 5 children. During the war there were American soldiers based here and one of them tried to pick her up as she walked through the Square. She turned on him and said,"I'm a happily married woman and I've got 3 sons at home about your age whose nappies I've changed hundreds of times. Go away and leave me alone." He did.
She may have been fierce at times, but she was scared of Ginger, the family draughthorse. Her sons knew this and when they had been misbehaving they used to hide under Ginger just out of her reach.
Ten years ago, when I moved to Christchurch my mother's cousin on meeting me unexpectedly said, "Oh, you remind me of Queenie".
I think it was one of the nicest compliments I've had.
Huia
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Charity gives food from the table, Justice gives a place at the table.
Posts: 10382 | From: Te Wai Pounamu | Registered: Oct 2002
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Laura
General nuisance
# 10
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Posted
quote:
Originally posted by Sine Nomine:
No, she's in the Eastern time zone.
I live very close to Washington, DC. Flights on Southwest airlines to Nashville from BWI are very, very cheap, though. ![[Biased]](wink.gif)
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Love is the only sane and satisfactory answer to the problem of human existence. - Erich Fromm
Posts: 16883 | From: East Coast, USA | Registered: Apr 2001
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Ariel
Shipmate
# 58
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Posted
Come to think of it, my grandparents lived through the Easter Rising in Dublin in 1916. My grandmother, then just about 20, found it so exciting that she would rush out to see the events unfolding before anyone could stop her, and was completely unworried by the barricades, gunfire and exchanges of bullets, etc. She would come back when she'd had enough excitement for one day, and tell the rest of the family what was going on. Events unfolded hour by hour, but some sieges in some parts of the city lasted much longer than others.
Many years later when I was a child in the 60s, my grandfather took me to the GPO (General Post Office) that had been the starting point which the rebels took over, and showed me that you could still see the bullet holes in the pillars outside. And so you can: worn and weathered now, but you can still run your finger over them and feel some of the roughness and half see what is now a busy, broad city-centre street as it must have been then, the shops suddenly deserted, the traffic suddenly gone from a road blocked with barricades and sandbags, everything uncannily silent except for the crack of gunfire and soldiers shouting, and the smell of fire as buildings nearby went up in flames. The contrast between that and the quiet normality of the suburbs (where my grandmother lived) was almost surreal.
Posts: 25445 | Registered: May 2001
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Nicolemr
Shipmate
# 28
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Posted
one from mmy fathers side of the family (the above was my mothers side)
my paternal grandmother lived in indiana by the ohio river. she and her brothers were very good swimmers, and they used to swim the river (carrying their clothing bundled on theor heads) to visit relativesand friends in kentucky. one day my grandmother and some of her brothers had done this. they were walking down a road, when a man with a wagon stopped and asked if they'd like a ride. they got in, and e drove on. after awhile they heard riders coming very rapidly up the road after them. the man who picked them up said "you kids had better get out now." they jumped out and hid by the side of the road, and the man drove off as fast as his horse would go. the riders passed by, with guns blazing.
seems they'd wandered into the middle of a feud. i believe someone was killed, and they had to stand as witnesses in the trial.
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On pilgrimage in the endless realms of Cyberia, currently traveling by ship. Now with live journal!
Posts: 11803 | From: New York City "The City Carries On" | Registered: May 2001
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daisymay
St Elmo's Fire
# 1480
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Posted
One from the grandmother on the other side of my family. Her father was a dentist, and had surgeries in various small towns and villages. He lived in Coupar Angus and used to travel around on his white horse.
One day, a servant came rushing in, in a panic, "The horse has come back without the master! The master has gone!" Mama calmly told the servant off. "The horse has more sense than you have. Take the horse and follow him. He'll lead you back to the master."
So the servants took the horse out and followed him all the way back to a bend by the River Isla. There lay the master on the ground. They picked him up and brought him safely back home. The underlying awareness was that the master was a drinker.
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London
Flickr fotos
Posts: 11224 | From: London - originally Dundee, Blairgowrie etc... | Registered: Oct 2001
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duchess
Ship's Blue Blooded Lady
# 2764
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Posted
I'm going to post something that makes me cry. I have tears in my eyes as I write this.
My Rev. Grandpa, may he rip, told me this story when I was 8. Forgive me if I don't get all the details exact...
A little girl died. Her father was very heart-broken but he designed some stain glass windows in a church of little children to honor her. The draft was done and the father looked at it. Little chubby rosy cheecks, little children who all looked similar European.
The father went to sleep and had a dream. In it, he saw his daughter playing with many children...like a rainbow of color.
The father got up...went to the church and had the design fixed...this time he included the rainbow of children. Red-brown-yellow-white...All colors. Now the window was right.
He went to sleep, and his daughter thanked him for fixing the window.
As a child, I remember thinking my Rev. Grandpa had heard this story straight from the father himself. Who knows where he heard it. My Rev. Grandpa's little story made a BIG IMPRESSION on my heart. I still see a colorless picture, no rainbow, when there are only white people in a picture, due to this story which I badly tell here.
[ 10. October 2003, 15:29: Message edited by: duchess ]
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♬♭ We're setting sail to the place on the map from which nobody has ever returned ♫♪♮
Ship of Fools-World Party
Posts: 11197 | From: Do you know the way? | Registered: May 2002
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Flausa
Mad Woman
# 3466
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Posted
I'm not close to my paternal grandparents, and my maternal grandparents are both deceased, so I don't have stories that they've told me. I do however have a story told about my maternal grandfather.
When my oldest uncle was making final preparations on his wedding day, my grandfather pulled him aside for a few last words of sage advice. Now, my grandfather had raised 9 children, so my uncle was anticipating something quite profound.
My grandfather's advice: "Raise pigs not kids, because when you get mad at 'em you can hit 'em over the head and eat 'em." ![[Snigger]](graemlins/snigger.gif)
Posts: 4610 | From: bonny Scotland | Registered: Oct 2002
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Huia
Shipmate
# 3473
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Posted
My Great Aunt Millie was the last sibling of Pop, my maternal grandfather. I got to know her in the last years of her life and she told me this story about him.
Pop was only 3 years old and was being bathed in a tin bath in front of the coal range. His mother was distracted by something and went out of the room. When she returned there was no sign of him. She ran out into the road calling his name and found him marching down the road nude behind the Salvation Army Band.
The story was remembered particularly in the family as Pop spent much of his life playing drums in brass bands - fully clothed of course.
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Charity gives food from the table, Justice gives a place at the table.
Posts: 10382 | From: Te Wai Pounamu | Registered: Oct 2002
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Moo
Ship's tough old bird
# 107
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Posted
There is a story about my grandparents. At this time they lived in Ashland, Virginia. The train tracks in Ashland ran down the middle of the main street--not across it, but along the length of it.
One day my grandfather's car stalled on the railroad track with a train coming. My grandmother sat there in the car, calmly waiting for him to come around and open the car door for her.
Moo
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Kerygmania host
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See you later, alligator.
Posts: 20365 | From: Alleghany Mountains of Virginia | Registered: May 2001
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