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Grandpa stories

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Alot of people never got to meet their grandparents.I had the privilege of meeting both grandfathers and one great grandfather. I would have liked to meet other "greats" but they met with untimely deaths before I was born.One was a blacksmith and kicked in the head by a horse. Another was a carpenter that slipped and fell off the roof or steeple of a tall church in Germany.It may have been the cathedral at Munich.
 
Alot of people never got to meet their grandparents.I had the privilege of meeting both grandfathers and one great grandfather. I would have liked to meet other "greats" but they met with untimely deaths before I was born.One was a blacksmith and kicked in the head by a horse. Another was a carpenter that slipped and fell off the roof or steeple of a tall church in Germany.It may have been the cathedral at Munich.
I only got to know my grandpa on my dads side of the family, and I treasure every moment. Even when he used his cane to hook my knee and knock me on the ground.😊
 
My Mom's Dad would take me to the corner bar (he didn't drink) where he would buy me a Dixie cup of vanilla ice cream to take back to the house. Then he taught me to eat it with those small pretzel sticks. I passed that on to my kids, and I hope to pass it on to their kids, too, Lord willing...
I remember Grandpap watching Gunsmoke and Bonanza on Sunday evening, eating ice cream (to ease the pain of an ulcer) on a metal tv tray, back in the '60s. I have the set of trays now, and remember him often, especially when eating vanilla Breyer's Ice Cream with the little black vanilla specs with pretzel sticks. 🥲
 
After dinner one night me and grandpa watched a old black and white WWII movie. He told me a couple stories about air raid sirens that scared the poo out of me.

The next morning he woke me up cranking a air raid siren yelling SCHNELL SCHNELL, Z GERMANS ARE COMING!

I fell out of bed to see him laughing his butt off in his wheelchair. He said let me get my leg on, we got carrots to pick.😂
 
I had the privilege of working with both granddads. Both nice guys, one a business owner [several businesses] and the other a hard-scabble farmer. Grandpa Norlund hardly ever cursed or used foul language. However, when he did, we kids all knew to head for high ground. He only cursed when really angry, but it was always scary. Both grandmothers were lovely and very different from the other.
 
Mine, we called him Dad, as did my Dad and my uncles, is the stories of hunting when a kid. The best was of the last deer he had seen in this area. It was just before he went to France in WWI. The first I saw was about 5 yrs after he died (1964) in 1969. More than 50 years.
My Grandpa went to France in WWI as well. Died in 1962. I remember my first hunting trip with him. He put a .22 round dead center between a squirrel's eyes at about 60 yards. Never met anyone who could outshoot him.
 
I knew all four of my grandparents and also my maternal great grandparents.
Growing up, I spent about half my time with my maternal grandparents.
My great grandfather (born in 1861 or1862) had a beautiful singing voice that sounded a lot like Burl Ives, and folks used to come from miles around on Sunday afternoons to listen to him sing. I only have a memory of him singing Old Dan Tucker though.
 
I could tell a "grandpa story" involving a high bridge, a creek full of water,a burlap sack, and some unwanted puppies. But it might offend someone, so I wont.
I've witnessed a couple things like that, it ain't easy. Makes your skin thick tho.
 
a creek full of water,a burlap sack,
My dad taught me how to swim, wasn't hard once I got out of the sack.:ghostly:
EDIT: I finally found the picture of my Grandpa Frank in his Beer delivery wagon.
Beer wagon Cleveland 1927.jpg
 
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I have no memory of my maternal grandfather. He was a half breed Blackfoot, worked in the oil fields. His sons, my uncles, supposedly looked just like him, and had no good words for him. "Oh, he was never home", etc. But Mom's family always had a grand home, new clothes, and food on the table - right through the Great Depression, as he would always send his earnings home. Mom got checks every month from the Blackfoot Nation - always either shred or burn them; she wanted no one to know she was 1/4 "dirty Indian"! Her mother was a high school math teacher, as kind and loving as a person could be. They had 6 kids together, so I guess he came home a few times.
Om my Dad's side, my granddad grew up in Eastern Oklahoma before Statehood. He lived on Belle Starr's ranch (famous lady outlaw), and from age 6 had to fetch water from her well several times a day. He became eastern Oklahoma's only registered pharmacist for many years. Knew every fishing hole in the eastern half of the state, AND where all the quail were. Dad was a Naval officer; we grew up travelling the world. And whenever I could, I'd spend the summer with he and Granny in their small OK town. When I was almost 16, I hitch-hiked from south-east Florida out to OK to spend the summer months with my grandparents and my uncle, who was the Vet for two counties. Sure learned a lot about animals from him, which is why I became a Wildlife Biologist several years after Vietnam. (GI Bill sure helped!)
Granddad loved making various berry wines in the kitchen, until a seed stuck in the pressure cooker valve and the mix re-decorated Grannies kitchen!
Granddad taught me to shoot his 12-ga Win. pump when I was 10, doggone thing landed me on my butt, but the rabbit was supper that night. Going to college, my wife and I would spend most weekends with him (Granny had died in '66, while I was in Vietnam.) He had taught me to fish, now he taught my now ex to do so - I believe she still loves to catch and cook panfish.
He passed at age 96; I was off doing wildlife crap in the Amazon Basin. On my health-forced retirement in '08, I moved to that small town; lived there 10 years, longest I ever lived anywhere. Was even town treasurer (and one of the cops!). Took some of Granddad's blackberry vines when I moved here in Ohio -big, luscious berries every summer!
 
This ain't much different from the no jokes thread. Hopefully it doesn't get taken down.

Awhile back i made a post about my grandpa hitting me upside the haed with his prosthetic leg cause i ate the last piece of fried squirrel.

This is where the squirrel came from.

He had a huge walnut tree in his back yard, along with taters carrots herbs and squash, he dried out alot of walnuts in his basement.

Heard a chirp chirp from the basement, he threw me the single shot 22 and a couple shells and said "go get em" ...and i did😊
i was very fortunate. i grew up knowing all my geandparents.Grandmothers were very oldschool but very loving as were both grandpas.Enjoyed many hunts .Think worse i goy a whipping was when grandpa was sittin in a chair outside. He had a cat in his lap and showed me how they ould flip over if they were dropped and land on their feet. he was very gentle with the cat. cat flipped on his feet. well u saud he couldnt do it. geandpa told me to be gentle. well i was a little mean. sort of threw the cat against the barn. ugh. the cat landed on his back and ran away. i got my @$$ tore up for that and learned a very valuable lesson. honestly wush all my grandparents were alive now. sure do miss them
 
First pic, my dad in the 50's when he was guide for hunters in Northern Québec. He married my mom when he was 23 so he must not have been very old when it was taken. Second picture is of my paternal grand-parents. I don't know if you see them like I do but heck! Do my grand 'Pa and my dad look alike ! Last one is me around 1980. Funny thing is I discovered a few years ago that my gand-father had 2 half sisters before my dad was born (in 1936). One died very young and the other moved to the USA, My father had never heard of them. T'was quite a surprise for him. Genealogy can be fun AND surprising. 😄
 

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First pic, my dad in the 50's when he was guide for hunters in Northern Québec. He married my mom when he was 23 so he must not have been very old when it was taken. Second picture is of my paternal grand-parents. I don't know if you see them like I do but heck! Do my grand 'Pa and my dad look alike ! Last one is me around 1980. Funny thing is I discovered a few years ago that my gand-father had 2 half sisters before my dad was born (in 1936). One died very young and the other moved to the USA, My father had never heard of them. T'was quite a surprise for him. Genealogy can be fun AND surprising. 😄
There are a lot of Savoie in South Louisiana. Must be some of your kin folk. I'll tell them you said hi.🙂
 
Grandpa kept two pickle jars filled with "water" in the fridge for a cold drink. He said the one in back is mine, don't forget to refill yours. One hot summer day i forgot to refill mine. Took a big gulp of his, it went down smooth, second gulp burned like hell fire, it was 190 proof shine.

30 seconds later i started to stumble out the back door, he saw me and yelled from the garden, you got into my water didn't ya! That wasn't water ya sumbitch, ya shoulda told me!

I was trying to grab the old water pipe railing to sit down, he said you better sit down before you fall down. Me....That's what I'm trying to do.

To this day I'm pretty sure i heard ol dan laughing at me friom the barn, he he he.

Thanks again to everybody for sharing.
 
There are a lot of Savoie in South Louisiana. Must be some of your kin folk. I'll tell them you said hi.🙂
Indeed, most of those Savoie from New Orleans and from the Antilles were deported during the "Grand Dérangement" in Acadia, New France. Some of my direct ancestor were of them. My own ancestor was caught by the red coats, emprisoned, escaped by digging under the fence and fled to Québec before the brits could send him away with the others.
 
My grandfather and great grandfather were both blacksmiths . My great grandfather’s anvil, vice, blower, tongs and a couple other tools from the late 19th century are still being used in my shop by me and my son. We’re not that good at it, but we have fun pretending to be blacksmiths. 😄
 
Indeed, most of those Savoie from New Orleans and from the Antilles were deported during the "Grand Dérangement" in Acadia, New France. Some of my direct ancestor were of them. My own ancestor was caught by the red coats, emprisoned, escaped by digging under the fence and fled to Québec before the brits could send him away with the others.
My Grandmother's family, the Arseneauxs fled in the great exodus from Acadia.
 
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