Memory Chain: Post Your Memories

My maternal grandfather, whom we referred to as "Pop", died of lung cancer in 2009. He was as opinionated and as independent as they come. He did not care one bit of the opinions of others, a fact which was great cause for distress when my mother was growing up. She would often tell me of an instance in which he'd come to one of her school-productions, barefoot and wearing an old stained t-shirt and shorts. Coupled with his long hair and beard, he must've been a sight. "Who let that wino in?" A student whispered to my mother. "I don't know..." Responded she, hoping, according to her, very much that no one would discover that "wino" was related to her in any way.
He was a genius carpenter as well, earning the nickname "Jesus" from my mother's schoolmates due to his long, unkempt hair and, as I've mentioned earlier, proclivity for walking about shoeless. My father worked under him for sometime and has told of my Pop's admirable skills. He would scan the blueprints for a moment, then toss it aside and work out how he wished to do it himself. A building doesn't seem the sort of thing a person should improvise upon, which I suppose makes the fact that they never crumbled or anything like that much more admirable.
It wasn't until after his death that my parents began sharing stories about him. I've apparently a great deal in common with him, or so my mother says.
I didn't very much like when he would visit as a young girl because he was quite loud and that frightened me very much. Even as I got older, and was no longer frightened by loud noises, speaking to people whether they were family or not simply wasn't an easy thing to do. Left with only stories, I can confidently say Pop was quite a character.

I remember going on picnics with my grandparents. Tuna salad sandwiches and iced tea in quart jars. We would sit in the shade and enjoy our meal. A nice memory.

Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

I posted this in reply to another Thread just a few minutes ago. It seems appropriate that it be posted here as well. I grew up in a very elderly extended family. I was an only child. The next youngest person to me was my mother. And my mother was middle aged by the time I came along. I spent my whole childhood going to one funeral after another as all of my elderly relatives died off, one-by-one.

Back then, there was no discussion of such a thing as a grieving process. Death was just something that happened. We went to the wakes & to the funerals. Sometimes there was a reception afterwards. Then we went home & went back to doing whatever it was we did.

They're all long gone now... including my parents. I don't really think about any of them very much. But, every so often, they make their way back into my thoughts... some good... some not so... It was all a long time ago...

My brother died back in 1990 and had many struggles. Though he had a really hard time with his mental illness and other things, he and I could always find something totally silly and trite to LOL about.

One time I will never forget is when I had typed up something and the paper was still in the typewriter and all the words were off a letter or two. It looked like I had typed in a foreign language. He said he never knew that I could type in Russian.

My mom passed away just before Christmas this year. Making shortbread was the hardest thing to do and the best thing I could do. Making traditional shortbread requires about an hour of kneading the dough to get it just right and melty-in-your-mouthy. We would put on Christmas records (yes, vinyl) and blast them (the record player was in the basement so you had to play it loud to hear it upstairs) and we would sit in the kitchen listening/singing and chatting. We would chat about everything.

The picnics sound lovely.

About the day you wrote this, I was talking to my brother and he told me that he'd just made tuna sandwiches for he and his wife and how it reminded him of how, for years, our mom made tuna sandwiches every single day.

(And now I'm craving a tuna sandwich. )

Every Christmas Eve me and my dad would cook dinner together and we would watch the Christmas lights. He left us on 5/4/14 and I did not want to cook christmas dinner this year and we did not put up a tree. I found a cube that when you turn in changes light and on Christmas Eve I tried so hard to put it on his grave but it's up high and they locked the ladders. I tried for 3 hours in the cold and rain before I gave up

I remember playing word games with my mother while we waited for the truck to be loaded or unloaded. My parents drove a semi when I was young so a lot of time was spent on the road. My mother was always trying to find ways to entertain me. She did a wonderful job. We played games, colored and read books. We had a great time. Good memories.

Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

My mom was also the master of the "car game" and no-tech entertainment.

Gaylegg and Tsuki.... Y'all reminded me of how my mom used to entertain us while waiting for the doctor's office to open. We'd be in the parking lot and have us try to guess how many cars would go by before the doctor came. Definitely low-tech, but it kept three kids occupied.

There were times my dad and I would go out in the woods with the chainsaw. He cut the trees down and I cut them up. He helped me find a strength in myself. We bonded alot during those times.

(I posted this on another thread, but thought it should go here, too.)

My favourite memories of you two, were the daily visits to my wall - you would eyeball me through the window and baaaaaah really demandingly for food. I love how you smiled when i gave in. Im so sorry humans think its ok to eat you

My dad was a wonderful person. He was a bit strict but was very generous and always showed he loved us so much.

My mom made spectacular Thanksgiving feasts. I'm missing the cranbrosia and sticky mashed potatoes.

Every winter, my mom started seeds for the vegetable garden. When spring came, my dad would till the garden and they'd get the plants in the ground. They always grew tomatoes, cucumbers, squash and eggplant, as well as other veggies. My mom made the best BLTs! 'Maters fresh from the garden, still warm from the sun!

They also had a lot of decorative plants, including my mom's peonies. They were ones she gave her mom.

I recently found out that a woman I went to high school with died a while back. We weren't BFFs, but I really enjoyed spending time with her. Both of her parents were deaf, so she had a good command of sign language. She'd put on some music and dance while signing the words. It was truly beautiful. A bit like a hula dance. She was such a great person.

One time, when I was more depressed than usual, my mom put some tiny flowers in a tiny antique bottle she'd found. The bottle was embossed with the word, "Smile." I still smile when I look at that little bottle.

My dad was always trying to keep me smiling and seeing the lighter side of life. When I had relationship troubles he would acknowledge what I said and then tell me about what my mother was saying to him. He always made me feel that we were in some kind of club together where we were both going through hard times, but it was all part of life. His smile was a comfort to me.

Thanks jaynedough for starting this memory chain!

Thanks for posting this, especially today! It would've been my dad's birthday today and I miss him so much!

“I’d like you to marry me.”

My sister, before she died, became closer to me. I know that it's because she was suffering and had no one else, and I'm happy I could've been there for her. It's like it came full circle because we were really close for a while, and then we grew apart, and then we came together again, albeit through texts and calls long-distance. I feel like at least I have something.

I always struggled with math. When I was in second grade, my mom bought math flash cards and worked with me daily to get my math skills up. But I think the best math lesson she taught me was figuring out percentages off at department store sales. She loved a bargain.

My friend, Scott, was amazingly talented. He was a master woodcrafter. He taught himself how play many musical instruments. He could play a song after listening to it. I'll never forget him playing a Beatles tune on a thumb drum.

His funeral was attended by such a diverse crowd of people. There were poetry readings, music and scripture readings. There was an urn for his ashes that was made out of a toolbox. Scott would've enjoyed just about every moment of that service.

My cousin would stick up for me when were kids, he was smart, interesting to talk to and intrigued by life. Why did addiction and possibly anti social personality disorder have to take him away.

My dad was awesome and he could fix almost anything around the house. He loved to sail and when I was kid I loved trips to the beach on Sundays to sail.