my Grandpa Howie was awesome.

my father's mother passed away three years ago to complications of alzheimer's. she was sweet and raised 10 of the most miserable human beings i've ever met.

my father's father is a millionaire in property. helped to raise the 10 in a very contentious and acrimonious enviroment. hence the misery.

my mother's mother is kind of a jesus freak. and a brat.

my mother's father is my hero. i'm his twin 58years younger. WWII vet. tailgunner in a bomber. been shot down from four planes, jumped out of two others. nicest man i know. he's the source of the musical genes in my family. in the VA aviation hall of fame. a kind, decent, funny man. i'm named after him and his brother.

All gone before I was 5. Only one parent left too.

My grandfather on my father's side was a Methodist Minister who ran a mission for the destitute in the East End of London, his wife was a vegetarian, communist suffragette. They were probably both very cool, but they were both dead by the time I was 3.

My grandparents on my mother's side were hugely racist white Africans who fled Southern Rhodesia in the 60s when the natives got uppity. My grandmother never recovered from the culture shock of having to live in England without servants/cooks etc. My grandfather died before I was born and my grandmother before I was 10.

My parents are also dead so my kids will also never experience life with the entire grand-set.

Maternal: Grandma died when I was around 13 or so, from alzheimers. Standard sweet grandma, made awesome sugar cookies. Her name was Hertha. She hated her name. Grandpa died when I was 9, and for most of my life he had alzheimers, so I never really got the full-on grandpa treatment. He did like to tease me. He was an ambidextrous carpenter, and apparently a hell of a guy in his day. Awesome.

Paternal: Grandma died last summer from alzheimers. Another standard sweet grandma. She played the organ, always by ear, couldn't read sheet music. I inherited her Hammond. Never met Grandpa, he died when my dad was 12 of some mystery illness, or infection or something. He played violin. He was a farmer, and I'm guessing very well liked in the area, because all the locals helped out with our farm (along with their own) after he died. They even chipped in to help rebuild the barn after it burned down some years later. In light of that, I guess Grandma was more than standard, she helped keep the farm running while raising 5 kids and working at a hardware store for years.

The only living grandparentesque relative I've got is my great aunt. She's cool. She's a nun from Manitowac who'll have a beer while watching the Packers.

3 of my 4 grandparents died of alzheimers. This troubles me a bit. Hope my folks don't have to go through that crap.

Salut, Grandfolks! I hardly knew most of you.

Dad's folks, Bernhardt and Olga, owned and worked a small cotton and wheat farm in Rosebud, TX. Grandma died when I was 10 and Grandpa died when I was 15. They were fantastic people. Worked very hard every day. Grandma made great sausage. They both loved my mom dearly.

Mom's father, Thurman, worked on the Apollo missions for NASA. He died when I was two. Mom's mother, Phyllis, stayed at home and occasionally volunteered at elementary schools. She used the term "coloreds" liberally and distrusted anyone without money. She died when I was 19. Phyllis smoked two packs a day and consumed only vodka and beer. I am told Thurman was also quite the drinker. They hated my father and refused to attend the wedding, mostly because he came from a poor background.


Jon

My grandfather was a Swedish cowboy.

But then he jacked it all in to come home and become an estate agent.

My English grandad was a race track photographer. During the war, he worked nights developing aerial recon photos. My gran stayed at home. A combination of being on her own, having both her kids evacuated, and being bombed out twice, meant that she passionately hated the whole "wasn't the Blitz great? We all pulled together!" myth for the rest of her life. During the 50th anniversary of VE day she was furious at the relentless Jolly-cockney-knees-up portrayal of it.

My grandfather on my father's side died at the age of 80 when I was seventeen. He was a cotton farmer with his own business. Other occupations include steel worker and truck driver.

My grandmother on my father's side died of ovarian cancer in 1968 way before I was born. She could play piano and violin so I guess that is where I inherited my musical ability. My grandfather remarried and she passed away this December due to alzheimers complications. She was 82.

My grandfather on my mother's side died when I was twelve. Congestive heart faliure. He had been a heavy smoker and drinker. Did various occupations in his lifetime.

My grandmother on my mother's side is still alive at 81. Retired as a chemist. Raised five children total. Very religious but still cool. In her will I get her Hammond organ.

Mother's side: Entrepreneurs who owned several shops around the country, although that was mostly my grandmother's endeavor. She's a shrewd business-woman who, at age 87, still reads three newspapers a day. She's rigid and extremely sharp-tongued, traits I learned to appreciate over the years. Gramps was more dreamy and liked to paint a lot. The only thing I remember about him was him lying in a hospital bed with various medical devices attached to his body. He died when I was three years old. They raised eight children, four of them who were not their own.

Father's side: Both born in extreme poverty. Grandfather worked as a farmer and a coal-trader until, at age 25, he decided he had a knack for studying and got his whole community to collectively pay for his university-tuition (this fact is pretty incredible to me). Studied theology in Amsterdam and became a protestant-calvinist minister. During WWII he refused to let Germans partake in his church services and was to be send off to a "workcamp", which he escaped by going into hiding for two years straight. Later he became involved in the Anti-Revolutionary Party and migrated to the United States when the socialists took over government, only to return when the christian-democrats took charge again. He became a sort of known character, for good and for worse, in the Dutch protestant community. To this day, some people describe him as humble and extremely dedicated to his community, while others say he was a psychopath. My guess is the truth is somewhere in between. My dad tells me his hands were pretty hard. Anyway, he died before I was born. My grandmother was a sweet woman who died when I was ten but who I never got to know very well.

All of my grandparents were from Sealand, a coastal province in the south-west of the Kingdom of the Netherlands. To reflect upon their lives very much humbles me. They had it much thougher than I, and most people from my generation, could probably ever imagine.

EXCELLENT topic, John W.

Mom's mom - Institutionalized when my mom was young. My mom got to watch her dragged kicking and screaming from the house - she had epilepsy and fell into the stove one day - the neighbors sic'd the authorities on her, saying she was a danger to my mom and sister. Back in the day, they often institutionalized epileptics. Died in the institution when my mom was still young.

Mom's dad - Syrian dude from Ontario. Was a musician, met my mom's mom when his car broke down in Elkhart Lake, Wisconsin. Moved to Chicago w/grandmother. Was a milkman, bartender, whathaveyou. Avid golfer. A hell of a guy I'm told. Succombed to cancer at 42, effectively orphaning my mom when she was 15.

Dad (pictured)'s dad - Scotish. A kick ass footballer. Moved to the US and made the US olympic soccer team, but couldn't swing the paperwork somehow - had alien status, or something at the time. Was 4-F for WWII due to his enlarged heart. Also a cricketer - I have the bats, or whatever the hell they're called. A carpenter, Smoked a pipe. Ran the little bowling alley / billiard hall in the Winnetka, IL community house as well as some sort of summer camp in Michigan through same organization. Stood up in church to sing one fine Sunday in 1973, and pitched over dead.

Dad's mom: Canadian (Manitoba), though extremely English somehow...moved to the North Shore with her sister - I forget why, met my grandfather at some sort of British club they all belonged to...She was an operator (later supervisor) for Ma Bell in Chgo for about 40 years. Was very nice to us grandkids, but I'm told she was a bit cold and stern otherwise. Died a few years ago, which was several years after her mental faculties went.