Isn’t this a cute little house? My grandfather and his brothers built it. My grandparents came to the United States from Germany in their 20’s. Back then, this house was on a street with lots of vacant lots and open spaces. In fact, there was a farm nearby. Now? It’s on a highly desirable street, surrounded by many other highly desirable streets, in a highly desirable town. My grandparents lived there for 60+ years. I have pictures of myself there as a baby, and pictures of my kids there as babies. See that front porch? We spent hours playing on the front porch, making up games and stories and plays. (Note – this was before 24 hour tv, video games, computers, etc.) Inside the house, there are arches between the rooms, there are solid wooden doors with glass handles, there are stained glass windows on either side of the fireplace, there is ugly tile in the bathroom. 🙂 The house has had two owners since my grandfather moved out several years ago. He lived there alone after my grandmother passed away, and he has since passed away as well. The subsequent owners made changes to the house. Got rid of the radiators – good call. Got rid of the big porcelain kitchen sink – bad call. Opened up the staircase – good call. Pulled out all the beautiful bushes in the front and my grandma’s lilacs – bad call. The house has just been sold again, and we have learned that it will be torn down and a new, bigger house built in its place. sigh.
I understand. I’m sad, but I understand. When you drive down that street now, there are many many lots where the old “small” house has been taken down and a bigger house put up. The problem is the lots themselves. They’re huge and deep – the way lots were back when all you had all around you was land. People come in and think the land (on the desirable street in the desirable town) is wasted with the small house sitting on it. I can’t blame the new owner – they don’t have an emotional attachment to that little house. I met with the gal who purchased the house last week. She’s as kind as they come. She must have apologized a half a dozen times for taking the house down. In fact, she has restored several houses and totally appreciates the historical perspective. They’re building the new house for themselves. They’re keeping the beautiful 50+ yr. old trees in the huge backyard. I like knowing that the land will be inhabited by a young family and I look forward to seeing what they build. She was having a renovator come in that afternoon to see what could be dismantled and salvaged, but first she let me come in to see if I wanted anything. I bought doors. I thought I was going to just buy the front door (a big, heavy, great door with a stained glass window that has been painted an ugly color in the interim. I’ll have to strip it.) As I walked through the empty house, I started looking at the bedroom doors. Solid wood, glass handles (how many times did my grandma and grandpa turn those handles in the 60 years they lived there?) Two of them have frosted windows in the top of the door. They’re really wonderful doors. I got to thinking that it would be neat to replace the doors to our bedrooms with those doors. So …. I bought 4 doors AND the front door. Did I measure to make sure they’d fit? Nope. I have so much faith in Wonder Husband’s carpentry skills. I am just sure he will love having “fit antique doors to our bedrooms” and “re-do front entry to make that old door our new front door” on his To Do List. Just sure of it. And the nice new owner? She gave me such a bargain on the doors. She said, “I’m not out to make money on anyone’s memories.” I loved her for that. I think my grandparents would get a kick out of knowing I was moving their doors to my house. I can’t wait to have them in place.
It got me to thinking about the things in our grandparents homes or childhood homes that we have special memories of. I remember a wonderful claw-foot bathtub in my other grandparents house. And of course I have special things that have been passed on to me from both sets of grandparents, which I treasure. I have a friend who made a “Treasures” scrapbook album of just these things – pictures of meaningful things and the memories written down that went with them. I’ve always thought I wanted to do an album like that. So here is the contest. Leave a comment on something special that you remember about your grandparents/childhood house (or someone who was special to you in your childhood), OR something that you treasure that has been passed on to you from grandparents. I will randomly pick someone to win the “Loopy Loot” prize of the month. I’ll announce the winner next Friday, so you have a week to leave comments. I will love reading these comments and hearing about your memories!
Sheri amIcompletelynutsforbuyingantiquedoorswithoutmeasuringfirst??
Sheri……how sad that they are tearing down your grandparents house, but how sweet of the new owner to be so very considerate of your special memories…..
My maternal grandparents came to this country by boat from Poland many years ago….My grandmother loved to sew…she would make us Feather Pillows and when I slept over at her house I would get to use her Big, Fluffy and soooo comfy Down Comforter that she made by hand…..I miss my pillows, that I actually took with me when I got married, but after 27yrs they have gone into retirment….I still can’t find one that is the same….those $100 down one’s don’t light a candle to my grandmothers….
Treasure your memories…and how awesome about the doors…can’t wait till WH gets them in for you and we see picks!
Diane
Hi Sheri,
My grandparents’ mantle clock comforts me with its constant tick-tock (as the “chimes” are sort of wonky). Both the pendulum and the spring for the chime need winding with an antique key every few days. It always seems to stop in the middle of the night or when no one is home, so after winding, the time needs to be reset.
To reset the time, you have to manually move the hands of the clock, pausing for it to chime the half hour and the hour. This has been done now for 3 generations. I have learned how to move the hands without touching the face of the clock as the numbers from 9 to 11 have almost disappeared from people skimming the face of the clock as they reset the time.
The best part of having the clock is the comforting background tick-tock that is the same today as it was when I was a child and memories of my father with the clock entirely dismantled as he cleaned it.
Sheri,
So glad you shared those wonderful memories and that you’ll have them in your own home in the form of the doors.
I remember a special drawer in my aunt’s house that was filled with empty wooden spools- she was quite a seamstress and saved the spools as she used up the thread. As children, we would pull open that drawer and dump out the spools to build and play with.
Laurie
Sheri, my hands and my knitting still smell wonderful from the Bee Bar. It really keeps on your hands a nice long time….I am delighted!
I loved your post today. My favorite place was my grandparents farm. (now..my husband and I kick ourselves that we didn’t buy it..but when they sold it, we were newly married and didn’t have the $)
Anyway….as a child, I loved walking in this big farmhouse and smelling the old woodstove. Huge Lilac bushes next to my grandmas peony and vegetable garden. My grandpa used to make ice skating rinks in the back yard. We all used to go tobogganing. Another fun thing..there was a huge old tree that was called the “Love tree” all my mom’s sisters and brothers had climbed this tree at some point in their youth and carved hearts with initials of their current love’s. I have wanted to go climb that tree and see what it looks like all these years later. 🙂
The kitchen was a huge room with wooden beams on the ceiling and was always the spot for a lively game of spoons!
This house and land represents my childhood memories and all the special times we shared as a family. As you can see..I could go and on, but I won’t:)
Wow…you are absolutely NOT crazy to buy them without measuring first! I mean, heck, even if there’s no way they’d fit in your house, who’s to say that Knitting Daughter won’t grow up to build her own home, and want to use them there? Then YOUR grandchildren would turn those glass knobs, too. How very cool.
I haven’t many treasures from my grandparents yet, as my parents are still quite young, and have most of them in *their* house. There are a couple, though, that are very dear to me. My maternal grandmother was a FABULOUS seamstress, a trait she certainly didn’t pass on to her daughter, and if it skipped a generation, then I don’t know it yet. She had a top-of-the-line Husqvarna sewing maching in it’s own desk that she used to make all kinds of classy clothing, and when she passed some years ago, it was handed on to me. I don’t pull it out too often, as I’m still just beginning to teach myself to sew (and I’m really not so hot yet), but the desk stands in my bedroom, and I think of her every time I look at it. The drawers are still full of all the threads, buttons, notions, bits & bobs she used, too, which tickles me no end.
My paternal grandmother was an incredibly interesting woman, too. She lived just off campus of Purdue University, and she continued going there & getting degree after degree for most of her adult life. She’d gotten a PhD. just a few years before she passed, though I can’t remember for certain in what (she’d gotten so darn many degrees that they all began to run together for me!). Her birth mother had passed when she was very tiny, and that had a HUGE impact on her life (and her father’s). There is very little of her birth mother, treasure-wise, that I know of, so I was incredibly honored when she chose to give her mother’s emerald ring to me. Keep in mind, also, that Grandma had several daughters and quite a number of granddaughters, so this is quite a thing that she chose to pass it on to ME. It’s truly lovely, though…a rectangular emerald with diamonds all around it, in a beautifully simple setting that’s really reminiscent of the times when it was made. I wore it on my wedding day, even though it’s a bit big on my scrawny fingers. I’m deeply, deeply touched by this gift, and feel a real connection with my great-grandmother whenever I put it on.
What an incredibly neat question, Sheri! I really look forward to seeing what everybody else has to say!
It’s wonderful that you bought the doors, everytime you turn the handles they will be with you, and you can pass them on to your son or daughter in the future. I love things from the past, they connect us to what has passed and will never come again. I was fortunatle growing up as my grandmother and great-grandmother lived next door to each other. When we visited we would pop in and out of each other’s houses all the time. As I grew up in Scotland I have very few momentoes from either of my grand parents but I do have a few. Once while visiting in my teens my great-grandmother (she was in her 90’s at the time) gave me her string of amber beads (they are huge and very heavy and I have to admit that I have never worn them), I am sure that not a week goes buy that I don’t pick them up and touch them and think of her. From my grandmother I have two diamond rings, I used to wear both of them everyday, but as the gold is getting rather thin I now only wear them when I am feeling sentimental or when I visit my dad, he always comments that “you’re wearing your grannies rings”. I wish I had more, a piece of furniture or a lamp but proximity did not make that possible. After writing this I am now feeling some what sentimental and I am going off to fondle Grannie Walker’s necklace.
What a wonderful story – it’s a shame about the house, but still, what a wonderful story. Our house, built in 1920, has those old doors and antique touches, and the glass doorknobs that remind me so much of the ones in my own grandparents’ house…sometimes when I’m opening the pantry, I sort of get lost in the doorknob. You know?
I remember when my grandfather passed away, my mom took me into his workshop, the little room behind the garage with windows all around, the one that smelled like sawdust and lava soap – I used to stand in there and watch granddad work, and I was completely fascinated by all the tools and presses and drills and saws – and she told me to pick out one thing. I found a wrench, a small kinda rusty wrench that had the brand stamped on the handle but had been used so many times that the impression had rubbed almost smooth. I chose that because it looked like the one that had the most of my granddad in it.
I love sentimental things – I’m getting married in four months and I’m wearing my great-aunt’s diamond ring as my engagement band. (My great-aunt and great-uncle were my mother’s godparents, and they were nearly as close to parents as her own parents were.) They were married over sixty years, and I selected the date of June 2 for the wedding because that’s the date that they married on – as did my mom and dad. I’ll cut the cake with the silver lily-of-the-valley carving knife that was my great-aunt’s favorite. All my most prized possessions are those small things – and it’s wonderful how much more special they become. I mean, when your grandparents first moved into that house, those were just doors. Doors he’d built, but doors….sixty years later, they’re priceless pieces of your life that mean so much more than in and out.
Wow. Thanks for this post. It’s made my day.
I remember my grandmother’s house with the thick panel doors and glass handles and the skeleton key locks. She kept the keys in the doors and I remember visiting and turning the lock in the bathroom door. I was 4 or 5. I also remember my parents pleading to put the key back in the lock. They gave that up and then somehow got me to slide the key out to them.
I also remember stairs lined with books. Stairs to the 2nd floor, stairs to the basement, stairs to the attic. Books, books and more books. I used to love stopping at every stair and looking at the books she left there.
Thank you for sharing your memory!
What a great story, Sheri. How well I remember so many things from my grandparents house. I stayed with them a great deal when I was young because my parents travelled a great deal for business, even in the 50’s and 60’s. This was a post WWII house with the fake brick siding and a huge flower garden in the back that they lovingly tended for 60+ years. But the main thing I remember is the porch, and more importantly, the porch swing. My grandmother and I would rock in that swing by the hour as she told me of her life growing up in New Glarus, WI. We would snuggle, and I would just listen to her talk about our family. She wanted to make sure that I knew who everyone was because no one else in the family really cared to listen to her. I did. I listened every time I got the chance. Then my grandfather would join us, with me sitting in the middle. He would tell me what it was like to work at the Parker Pen Co. which has long since been swallowed up by some conglomerate. And at night, we woudl turn on the special porch lamp-a tiffany style lamp that had been given to my great grandparents by my grandfather and his siblings for their 50th anniversary. That lamp now graces my bedroom armoir, and at night when I turn it on all the memories come flooding back. How lucky I am to have those memories.
My grandmother is English. When I was five she taught me to knit. Everytime I pick up needles I can see her kitchen. The bright sunlight coming in the huge window, I can feel the warmth of the aga and smell the baking apple crumble. Nanny is in a home now, but I will always remember her sitting in the kitchen patiently teaching me to knit. My time spent with her is one of my most treasured memories.
Wow, I have to pick one? Playing in my paternal grandparents orchard comes to mind. Just the thought of their house made me “smell” the vegetable soup my grandmother always had on when we came to visit. My grandfather’s “Two Guys” vest hanging on a coat hook. My grandfather smoking through dinner… at the table. My grandmother would alway buy pringles for me when I visited. And I knew it! We never had them at my house, but mom-mom did.
ACK… getting all teary eyed.
I love that you are so connected to your family. I feel bad sometime because my husband has very little family. His father has a whole new family and doesn’t keep in touch very much and he was adopted so all he has is his mother and his parents. I come from a very large family so I naturally wanted to connect with his as well. His grandma taught me how to Crochet and Knit and now that it is becoming an osession we have bonded nicely. I think he likes to see that I have something in common with his grandmother.
As for my Grandma, I always remember her making tortillas, dozens and dozens of tortillas. I would watch her make the dough and roll them out, and she would give me a ball of dough to make my own then she would cook it for me. I always have loved homemade tortillas and now I love to cook as well.
Thanks for helping me take a minute out of my busy day to remember the things that keep us going. Have a great day!
it’s making me feel sick to think of that beautiful old house being torn down. people just don’t appreciate the old way of doing things anymore. our house was built in 1910 and there are so many wonderful things about it that we wouldn’t be enjoying if it were built in 2006. i love living in a place that has history. i’m so happy you are saving the doors!
i was lucky enough to have wonderful grandparents and great grandparents as well. I have one great grandma’s silver, and my other great grandma’s china. i have stacks of quilts made by my quilting granny and doilies and table linnens that have been passed down for almost 100 years.
my most treasured belongings though are my grandfather’s paintings. i remember playing in his studio with my cousins, him trying to teach me about painting, showing me how he mixed the paint to get different colors… it was so fun to grow up in that family, surrounded by art and free to be creative.
I’m so glad you got the doors!
My favorite memory of visiting Grandma — her beautiful, ancient, Wedgewood china with strawberries painted on it. The luncheon plates were square! I now have that set of china. I almost never use it, but it’s on the top shelves in my kitchen cupboards and I smile every time I see it.
I also have the beautiful four-poster bed (with carved pinecones on the posts) that HER father made, and the claw-foot oak table he made as well. Both of those are lovely memories from childhood, as I remember them from my grandparents’ home.
My earliest memory of my Grandma’s house in Pittsburgh involves the kitchen, of course! Theirs was a large Italian family – eleven kids, and meals going all the time. I remember standing at my Grandma’s side a the kitchen table and watching her roll out and fill the ravioli. I could smell the sauces simmering on the stove – she always did both red sauce and chicken broth for the ravioli. The table had a small drawer on one of the shorter ends, probably for silverware. I only visited them once before I was a teenager, but this memory is very strong. In fact, when I go into an Italian restaurant, if the sauce is particularly fragrant, I see my grandmother’s hands again, rolling out the pasta.
My item from my grandmother’s house is still with me! My bed is an old iron frame bed, with curved pipes at the head and foot. It’s nothing fancy at all — just an old iron frame bed. But I’ve slept in this bed since I was too little to climb into it by myself. I can remember bouncing on the rails at the foot of the bed with I was no taller than they are — about 3 feet tall, I think. My father slept in this bed when he was a boy.
When my grandmother died, the only thing I asked if I could have was the bed. For many years, I even slept on the mattress and springs that were older than I am. I did finally get those replaced about 20 years ago. 🙂 But the old bed is still with me.
My maternal grandparents lived a few blocks from our house. I spent a great deal of time there growing up. My grandfather was a gruff man but his was the only grandpa I had so we had to make the best of it. He would sit in his leather recliner, smoking his pipe, sitting by the heath of the handbuilt stone fireplace. I would sit at his feet and watch the smoke from the pipe as it wound it’w way up to the mantel. There was an Anniversary Clock there on the mantel. The kind that have three brass balls that turn in one direction and then rotate back. That clock is the only thing of my grandparent’s that I have. As it turns in my home, I can go back to my memories of grandpa in his chair and almost smell his pipe.
I don’t know where you grew up but they are doing that all over the mid county area in st. louis. I get kind of sad when I see the landscape of my memories changing is all. I don’t blame you for buying the doors. I have some things I had my Grandpa give me off of his house. Of course his house is in no danger of being torn down I just wanted them to remember it by.
My grandparents house was in La Jolla, California. Every summer I would visit out there and I miss it so much. Even though the front of the house faced the ocean, my favorite place was in the back, on the patio. My grandfather had owned a garden nursery and put so much care into their garden. The thing I remember the most is sitting out on the patio in the garden smelling all the different La Jolla smells (ocean, plants, flowers) while reading a book. Just thinking about it evokes so many emotions. After my grandfather died, my grandma sold the house and it was torn down. I almost prefer knowing that no one else ever shared that space. It was all my grandparents.
One day at my grandparent’s I was lying crosswise on the feather bed where I slept and I noticed a water stain on the ceiling that looked like the profile of a young Native American to me. He had a long pigtail. After that every year I would always “visit” with my Indian. I have a small desk from my other grandparents. The front part folds down to make a writing area and there are lots of pigeon holes and little drawers. I always liked the desk when I was growing up.
I think your idea of installing the doors in your home is so neat.
We took down the new door to my bedroom and put in an old front door from England. I love Britain so this is really special for me. It has a stained glass window at the top and we cut it in half to make a Dutch door. There’s a mail slot and part of a bell. We still need to repaint it and put in a door knob and lock (which we found at an architectural salvage yard in England) so it’s not finished, but I will try to send a picture!
It’s very sad to hear about your grandparents’ home being torn down, especially when you think of the huge monstrosities that are being built in the place of them =( But at least you have your memories.
I’ve only ever met my paternal grandmother, and only once, when she had a 3-month visa. She gave me a simple silver necklace with a diamond set in it, which I never take off. It was rather pathetic on my part because she doesn’t speak any English, and I barely speak Cantonese. So I could understand what she was saying, but we couldn’t talk much.
Sheri , what a great topic! It’s hard to read all the comments without getting misty eyed! I have a few things from my grand and great-grands. My great grandmother made many rag rugs which Mom got first. Since Mom couldn’t use them, she passed them to me and there is always one in my front hall! The hand made down pillows have finally worn out – after being used more years than anyone can remember! When my paternal grandmother (Granny) passed away, my aunts gave all her jewelry back to the kids who had given to Granny. My folks passed on a beautiful gold and pearl pin that I just love.
Thanks for the trips down memory lane. My husband and I lived in a 1920 era house for 15 years or so, until a job transfer. We loved our old home filled with 15 different sized windows, handmade doors, glass knobs, etc. We’re in a newer place now and while it’s much easier to take care of, it doesn’t have the wonderful feeling my old home had. Or a great front porch!!
Carol in southside VA
How sad about your grandparents’ house! Growing up my Dad restored historic homes for a living, so we were always moving into some old place or another. In the part of town I live in you aren’t allowed to tear down houses like that without getting neighborhood approval (which you wouldn’t be able to get – people love the old homes!) When we move I want to find a bungalow in that neighborhood – something with brick porch columns like your grandparents’ house!
I just got engaged and my fiance gave me my grandmother’s ring to wear. It’s so much more meaningful that him just buying something, so that’s my favorite memory at the moment. I can remember the rings on her hands, and I think about her every time I see them on my own.
Sheri,
thank you for making me think about my grandparents.My fondest memory is of sitting in my grandma’s kitchen in the late afternoon as she started preparing the food for my grampa’s birthday. She used to prepare enough food for over one hundred people and always started by frying raisins in olive oil to flavor it. She would then take the raisins out, drain them, cool them and hand them to me in a special little bowl. They did not taste very good but the experience was wonderful.
I have many treasures that belonged to my grandparents, great grandparents and beyond. I have the first wristwatch my grandfather bought for my grandmother when they were only married a few years. I have my grandpappy’s old beer mug, many plates from sets of dishes of too many to mention. But this made me think of a nontangible treasure. My grandfather on my dad’s side was a man of few words. He had 5 children who lived to grow old and lost their mother when the youngest was only 2. He honored her deathbed wish to not let a stepmother raise her children and remarried a very wonderful loving woman when my dad, the youngest, was 18. This woman was my grandmother, blood related or not. They didn’t have any children together so his kids became hers and their children became her grandchildren. But I digress. I never remember holding a true conversation with my grandfather. He left for work each morning and would come back in the evening. He’d sit and watch tv or do chores around the farm (if he’d worked in town that day). But every morning we were there he did one special thing. He would come and wake my sister and I. And this is how he did it. He’d grab our noses between his knuckles and wiggle them and say “Wanna bisquit?” He’d repeat it a few times as sometimes we were hard to wake. But he knew how to get us up. We LOVED our grandma’s homemade biscuits. They were light and tall and about two bitefuls of melt in your mouth biscuit. (probably achieved with lard but hey….) Anyway, that is my favorite memory of my grandpa.
My grandparent’s home was just torn down. They lived on a 60-acre farm outside a town that used to be tiny, but is now a thriving growing city (thanks to I-70). Grandpa had quadruple bypass over 2 years ago, and he could no longer take care of it. They sold to a developer and moved to a brand new house in town.
The developer was not interested in keeping the small 2 bedroom farmhouse when the land would be worth so much more as a new residential neighborhood, so down it went. Part of me wanted to take boards from the hardwood floors that Grandpa put down himself. My Aunt did take the columns that Grandpa hand made for the study. I ended up with a bunch of Irises and Daffodils that my Grandma had planted at the house when my Mom was a little girl, and a sprig of her lilac bush as well. I hope they all survived the move. Maybe they won’t bloom this year, but maybe they will. They will move with me whenever we get a new house.
There’s no way we could have bought it; the land went for $7000 an acre. I hadn’t cried about it until now. I’m so glad you got a memory of the house where your grandparents lived their lives.
NO, you’re not nuts! Even if you couldn’t widen/narrow your doorways, old doors can be used as coffee tables, or just leaned up against a wall. Very decorative in a farmhouse kinda way. And what an opportunity to get the doors from your grandparents’ house!
I think my best memory is of my paternal grandparents’ house in Fort Valley, Georgia. It was a big old house. In fact, the upstairs, though not separated by a lockable door or anything, was like a separate house. There was a kitchen up there, and this really cool tiny bathroom. Old Mr. Hiley lived up there until he had a stroke, and couldn’t handle the stairs anymore. But downstairs, where my grandparents lived, was always special. The long hallway that ran straight from the front door to the back door. The only phone in the house was in that hallway, at the phone table, of course. The table had a chair built into it, so you could sit down while talking on the phone. And the phone was a big, chunky black thing with a dial. =) I really loved the bathroom too. It was BIG. It had a really high ceiling, just like all of the other rooms in the house. There was the claw-foot tub (no shower), and this gas heater thingy that I was TERRIFIED of! It made funny hissing sounds, and the ceramic grill thing inside it glowed orange when it was on. Very frightening! There was also an old armoire, painted white, full of grandmotherly-smelling towels and washcloths. I remember all of the rooms in that house were really big. More the size of a really big living room! One room I often slept in (the one with the painting of some man, and his eyes would follow you as you walked around the room – also very creepy!) was something like 20×25 feet! Then there was the kitchen. Everytime I think of that kitchen, I think of homemade peach ice cream, brunswick stew and cornbread. Grandmama Veale could COOK! Grandmama and Granddaddy Veale both died in the 80’s, and the house is now owned by someone else. I wonder what changes they’ve made?
Like Georgia said, it is really sad how people do not appreciate old house and the way they were built. It is a big problem all over the country. I would hope that the lady who bought your grandparents house will at least reuse as much as she can. I live in an old house (circa 1926) and I will not live in a new house anymore.
Because I grew up in a military family, visiting my grandparents was difficult. Plus my father’s family immigrated from Cuba in 1968 so that the house they lived in was not one that had a lot of history behind it. But every time, we came back to the States, we would always visit Boston and my abuela. The kitchen was tiny but that is where you could always find every one. And eating dinner was always an adventure because there would up to 15 people crammed around a table that would only comfortably seat 8 or 9. And everyone would be talking at 6the same time and reaching for the food. The best part was that that everyone would start out speaking in English for my mother’s sake but the language would slowly switch over to Spanish and than back to English. And the funny part is that no one ever really noticed the language shift. It was a given
One thing that I do have is a photograph of my father’s real mother who I look like. She died when my father was 2 so neither he nor I ever really knew her. But this was a photo that my abuela made sure she brought with her out of Cuba.
Another favorite place to visit on the stateside visits was my great uncle’s house in Miami. My Uncle Sam did all of the cooking. His favorite dish to cook for large crowds was a dish that required limes. He would always send me out to the tree in the backyard to pick limes.
Even though, I do not have a lime tree in my backyard, I still have his recipes and treasure them. I also have my abuela’s recipes and I treasure them. Comfort food to me is either Cuban food or Filipino food. (I never really had the opportunity to know my maternal grandmother because she refused to travel and she lived too far from the East Coast for us to visit on the trips stateside. And my mother always seemed to prefer going to her in-laws/)
Ooh, y’all reminded me…I just cooked lunch for my family in the cast iron skillet that was used by my great-grandmother over 80 years ago. That skillet ROCKS, I use it almost daily, and it amazes me that it’s used to cook food for my little boys, when it was owned & used to cook food for the small children of their great-great-grandmother. She was an Amish woman, and she married a Southern man, so you KNOW the food was good! 😀
Sheri,
I am so sorry to read that your Grandparents house is being torn down. My favorite memory of my Grandparents house would be the house they where in when I was about 3. They have since moved but my Gran’s bathroom in that old house was my favorite room. It had pink tile and pink fixtures and smelled of Prell ? Shampoo. I loved the tile and it was comforting to see all Gran’s perfume on the glass tray on the counter. I guess when your 3 a pink bathroom is pretty cool!
your story really made me tear up – i love that you were able to buy those doors! i bet your grandparents would be so happy to know that you are keeping their home alive in your own.
one memory i have of my grandma’s house is her cookie jar – it was ceramic, with little ceramic cookies all over it, all different kinds. as long as i can remember, she always had cookies in it for us when we came to visit, though my grandma not being much of a cook, they were usually store-bought. 😉 i know she’s had it for a long time…my mom used to tell us stories about when she was a little girl, and how she perfected the art of taking the cover of the cookie jar off without making any clinky ceramic noises to give her away! my grandma probably still has it – she has great-granchildren now – but i live really far away from her so i haven’t been to her house in a long time. i will have to ask her about that cookie jar!
Oh I so agree with you purchasing those wonderful doors … I only wish I’d been offered the opportunity to save things from my childhood home. My family moved into this new house when I was one (1948), and like your grandparents’ home, it had land! An approximate half-acre (I think) and a photo of my dad in the back yard working on his garden with a picture of an old 1948 car driving on the 2-lane “main” street off in the distance makes me laugh every time I see it; Nowadays, that same intersection has four lanes of traffic going in each direction, and the intersection during rush hour is terrifying! But one of my memories concerns the old floor heater in the hallway/living room. Set up to warm both the three bedrooms off the hallway, and the living room in the other direction, it had a grating on the floor and when you were cold in the mornings dressing for school, I can still recall my sister and I fighting over who would stand on which grating to dress while the warm air rose & circulated up and around our legs. Central heating isn’t nearly the fun that the old floor heater was! The old house is still standing, but has been turned into a complete child-care facility. Although my mother ran a very successful child-care business out of it for 20 years (with over 60 children there every day), we still lived in the family part of the house. The current owners turned that part into the business as well, and it no longer is for family. What a shame … that home gave me some great memories.
Thanks for sharing your memories Sheri. It got me thinking about my grandparents. We lost my grandpa back in May, so memories help me with the sadness. I remember spending every summer with my grandparents. There were two great things about staying with my grandparents. One of the best things for me was waking up early on Saturday morning to curl up with my grandpa on the couch and watch the Looney Tunes on TV. My grandfather use to laugh so hard at the Roadrunner and Wiley Coyote and Foghorn Leghorn. The other thing I loved so much was helping my grandma in their cozy little kitchen….making cookies, baking pies or cooking dinner it didn’t matter. They sold the house about 7 years ago and moved out of state. The house is now completely different and has gone through 3 owners but the memories are still the same.
It makes me so sad to see wonderful old houses that have been torn down to build new houses that are so often lacking in any charm or individuality. I would have bought those doors in a heartbeat even if they never got put up! What wonderful memories you have.
My parents were older when I was born; my mom was 41 and my dad was 52, so I never knew my grandparents on my dad’s side and only knew my maternal grandmother, who moved with us from Michigan to Texas. She had immigrated from Scotland with her brothers and sisters when she was 18 but never lost her strong brogue. She was so soft spoken and so thrifty (a trait I did not inherit…) and I loved it that she lived with us until she died in 1976, just a month before I married. I have her beautiful engagement ring, which is 4 emeralds in a cloverleaf shape with small diamonds surrounding it. Every time I look at it I am reminded of her and all that she contributed to my life.
There are so many things that I remember about my great-grandmother’s home – it was the house my mother grew up in. It’s hard to believe that she died 10 years ago. I remember the blue bedroom where I got to sleep whenever we came to visit. She would put a comforter on the bed that had stars and moons on it that glowed in the dark. There was a painting of a young woman who I always thought looked like my mother on the wall on which she placed some of her costume jewelry. I can still remember the shag carpet and the closet that connected all the bedrooms. My siblings and I would each take a room and play “Letters”. We would write little notes and get the youngest to go up and down the closet, knocking on the door and delivering the letters. Granny had glass figurines on all the door ledges – I can remember countless nights falling asleep looking at them.
So many little things: the striped carpet in the kitchen where we would make tortillas and bread together as a child. The mirrored tiles in the bathroom that also had carpeting. The old black rotary phone that sat on the desk in the entry way. The green armchair where we would sit and spin and watch TV. The front porch where we would play. The detached garage where the bunnies lived.
I only have a few things from her, but the most precious is my name – Maria.
She thought that knitting made me nervous because I’ve always had a hard time sitting still and tend to fidget constantly.
How I miss her.
Sheri, thank you for sharing such wonderful memories of your grandparents’ house. The house I grew up in was actually my grandparents’ old house – after my parents were married, they bought the house from my grandparents, who were the original owners. No one has lived there but us, which I think is pretty cool! I lived in my mom’s old room, and it was always such fun when my mom would show me old pictures of how she had it. Now that I’m married and I’ve moved away, it’s become her craft room, but the stenciled sunflowers I added are still there!
My grandparents are still alive, but the one thing I have told my grandma I want is her sewing machine. She was surprised because it’s not fancy and is in fact fairly beat up. I want it, not because it’s beautiful, but because that’s the sewing machine where she made me my Halloween costumes and where she taught me to sew for my Girl Scouts badge. I remember so many happy times choosing fabrics and buttons and sitting on the bed reading while I watched her sew.
I hope the doors fit your house without too much “tailoring.” I love that you saved them … they will bring a lot to your own house, I know.
My grandfather had an old telephone stand. This was before cordless phones were in every room of the house and you could only have one so it was on a stand in the main hallway. I can still see my PawPaw on the phone standing in the hallway. I used to hide things inside the telephone stand when I was a kid while he was on the phone. My grandfather died before my daughter was born so he never got to meet my two children (even though I know he’s looking down on them). My mother still has that telephone stand and my other grandfather has since returned it to it’s original finish. One day, I was at my mother’s and I looked over to see my daughter hiding her things in the telephone stand. I just knew my PawPaw was laughing from above. Like mother like daughter, he’d say.
My mother recently asked me what I would want from her when she passes away so she can specially designate one thing in her will for all her children and grandchildren. I don’t want the antiques, the great jewlery or anything else of value. I just want the telephone stand and all it’s memories.
Hi Sheri,
Your post made me cry. I don’t have anything that was passed on to me by my grandparents but instead I have kept over the years, the doilies that my grandmother made for me in which just happens to be my favorite color now. I have them stored away in a box and visit them every now and then. I had kept a fishermans sweater that was the last Christmas gift that she had ever given me for well over 20 years but age took that away from me. But most importantly I have some letters that she had written me while I was growing up. Even though she only lived a half an hour away from us, everytime one of us kids would write her a letter she would write us back. I just loved the idea of getting mail.
My aunt still lives in my grandparents old house so there are a lot of memories still there. Everytime I go there I love looked at the little trinkets that are in the cabinet on display. They had so many that we could spend some time just admiring them.
Now, I often wonder what my children will keep from their grandparents as reminders of them. I am very blessed that both of my parents are alive and my husband’s also.
I have my great-great grandfather’s rocking chair. It’s made of oak and hand-carved. My grandfather told me once that when he thinks of his grandpa, he remembers him in this chair reading the Bible and taking notes.
My grandfather passed away last October, so the rocking chair means even more to me now, because it was my grandpa who gave it to me.
From my grandmother I have two quilts, some embroidered pillow cases and an embroidered dresser scarf. The pillow cases and dresser scarf are edged in hand crocheted lace. The quilt that makes me smile the most is made of scraps of all her double-knit polyester dresses. Since it’s made of such an indestructible fabric I don’t mind using it and can sit and remember all her dresses.
i could tell you several items that fit into this category, but here’s the first one that jumped into my mind: my aunt’s marble table top that she made peanut brittle on every Christmas, for everyone she knew. I have her peanut brittle recipe and I make it every Christmas now, but not in the quantities she used to. I can no longer use it for peanut brittle, since it has a fracture in it that I would be afraid to subject to high heat, for fear it would split the entire thing in half.
Thanks for the memory…..
Dear Sheri,
My grandmother and grandfather came here f rom Russia. They were very poor,
but did manage to buy a house in the city. They had eight children and my
grandma washed all her clothes on a washboard. My grandfather worked in a cap
factory. I remember my grandmother’s stove. It was the really old fashioned kind
like you see in old magazines, but she cooked on it all day. The eight kids were
sent outside and didn’t come back in until she called them for lunch or dinner.
Those were the days when your kids could go out and you knew where they were.
She had beautiful rosewood furniture and armoires that she brought back from
Russia. She had a huge rosewood beveled glass china cabinet.
When she died in the 1950’s, my mom and
dad and all her sisters and brothers had to pay someone to take those beautiful
things away. Now they are worth a fortune. My mother saved the china and packed
it up and sent it to my aunt Ann in California who loved glass and it all got broken
on the airplane. We have absolutely nothing left from my grandmother and
grandfather. Isn’t that awful? I know how you must feel about your grandparent’s
house. My grandmother was a very strict person. There was no tom foolery, but
my Grandpa was a pussy cat. Everyone wanted to sit on his lap, sometimes all at the
same time.
Keep those memories.
Oh what a same that the old must make way for the new. I’m so happy that you got the doors..that is such a great idea! I would have never thought of that idea myself. I remember the glass handles on the doors in my grandparents home.
You bring happy tears to my eyes as I remember the summers I stayed with my grandparents on their farm in Iowa as a child. I lived in Indiana with my parents with all the conveniences of modern life, but may I say that I did not have the best home life due to the alcohol abuse problems that my parents dealt with. When summers would arrive off I would go to my grandparents farm. Oh, how I loved it there….That wonderful big ole farm. I would get up with my grandma and collect the eggs in the chicken coop….help grandpa milk the cows. Conveniences? What were conveniences there? We had to go to the well and pump our water, use the seperator for the milk, and use the outhouse. My grandmother even curled my hair in rags! When I was there and it was cold, my grandfather put my jammies by the stove to get them warm before I put them on.
The upstairs of the house did not have electricity and we would take the carosene lamp with us and I would sleep in the same room as them in a bed across the room.
The afternoons and evenings that were spent on that front porch……well, let’s say I never look at rocking chairs without thinking of my grandmother.
I have so many memories I could continue on and on.
Sheri, you asked what they gave me. My grandparents gave me my life as a good person who has done something with my life. I could have so easily became someone else but they and their love were there for me.
Boy, I do miss that farm.
Thank you for the memories.
What a great opportunity you’ve given us, Sheri!
I’ve had the great good luck to have 3 sets of grandparents, but really only ever knew one set, my stepmother’s parents. They lived in a duplex outside Philadelphia, on the Main Line railroad; a little town called Narberth.
Tall ceilings, steep staircases, and we kids hung out on the top floor (dormers) or in the basement. The basement had a middle room with all kinds of stuff stored. There was a “secret” room at the front that I think really went under the front porch. To the back, there was the boiler room with a huge heater, then the access to the back yard through a staircase covered with doors, like you see in The Wizard of Oz. In that boiler room, we’d put the homemade birch beer to age, and every so often we’d hear one blow its top!
I think memories are all I have of any of my grandparents. Oh, and this grandmother’s mother and I shared a birthday. What a great lady — when I was 18, she was 90, and sharp as a tack! I really enjoyed the times I was able to spend with her.
Thank you for this interlude of remembrance and sharing.
Sheri…thanks for sharing your memories of your grandparents. It brought tears to my eyes as I thought of my own grandparents and parents. I have enjoyed reading everyone’s stories as well.
Because my parents were older when I was born (ages 30 and 35), most of my grandparents had already passed on. I did get to grow up knowing my mother’s mom and my great-grandmother as well. I remember my Granny’s house was small, but cozy. My brother and I loved to sit on her big front steps and play “rock school”. Does anyone remember that game?? My great-grandmother loved music and could play by ear. I remember her playing an old foot-pumped organ. When I was in high school, my Granny came to live with us. She and my mother would spend hours quilting. Granny also was the one who taught me to crochet and I still have many potholders that she made.
I have several treasured pieces of furniture that were passed down to me from my father’s parents…the rocking chair that my grandmother used to rock my father in when he was a baby, a small clover-leaf shaped table, and a china cabinet filled with dishes that the family had used. Although I never knew my father’s parents, my dad often said that I reminded him of his mother. Several years ago after my dad passed on, the old homestead where he grew up was sold. I regretted that we didn’t have the money to purchase it because it, too, had many memories. I remember going out to the barn to see the horses that my uncle kept there…and seeing the chicken all start running whenever my brother and I came around. It had an old cistern well inside on the back porch that my dad was constantly having to tell us kids to stay away from. The family that bought the old homestead has restored the main house and build on to add more room. It looks very different now than what I remember growing up. At least the house is now filled with love and someone is taking care of it. Thanks, Sheri, for causing us all to once again go down memory lane.
What a nice story. My grandparents lived in Germany and my most precious possession is the doll bed that they made for me. It is a miniature of the traditional “himmel bett” or german canopied cradle. My grandfather was a basketmaker and he wove the body of the bed and put it on rockers. He forged a steel frame for the canopy. My grandmother lined the basket and sewed a feather mattress and pillow for it, as well asa down blanket and matching canopy. She loved to crochet, so she made a tiny doll blanket in the same red and white of the blanket and canopy. I keep that doll bed in my family room, and get a warm feeling every time that I look at it. Oh, and this is the grandmother who taught me to knit, crochet, embroider and smock. What wonderful memoiries you made me think of today! Thanks.
Sheri,
What a nice thing to happen. I love the house, too bad the new owners could make it work. It is so cute.
I have my paternal grandmother’s wedding ring set. She died last May, and that was really rough me, my parents, and my brothers and sister. My sister has some of her other rings. She didn’t have much, but we got to keep a few things that had belonged to her.
Melissa
I’m sad to hear about your grandparents’ house, but I’m glad you got something from the house. My favorite thing about my grandparents’ house was the laundry chute. It was nothing more than a little door that went from the upstairs hall into a downstairs closet. My cousin and I made the closet into a clubhouse of sorts and would go up and down the laundry chute. I remember one time we talked my younger brother into going upstairs for something and we climbed through the little door and hid in my grandparents’ room and made ghost noises. It was a long time before he would go upstairs after that. Does it mean that I’m a horrible person if that particular memory still makes me laugh?
Thanks for a wonderful question. I’ve enjoyed reading everyone else’s memories!
I have to agree wtih you about doors, Sheri. My grandma’s house, built in the 1940s, had glass doorknobs everywhere, and that is what I remember most. She also had hardwood floors (this seemed extraordinarily quaint to a girl who grew up in the suburbs of a vast Southern city), which I loved to slide on in my socks. What a great house that was!
Wow looks like you really struck a cord with this contest! At my grandparents old house, since sold my mom got the smaller room when she was little. She was upset about it and so they had the construction guys put a secret cabinet in her closet. It was just this little cubby with a door inside her closet but we thought it was the greatest. My mom’s cousin has made sure every house of hers has had a secret room ever since!
My great grandmother fled Turkey/greece around the turn of the century. They were only able to take a few items, one of which was a janus faced ring. It had been passed down thru the years and no one knows how old it really is. It is so unusual and beautiful. I never knew my great grandmother but she taught my mom to knit who in turn taught me. That I think is the greatest treasure of all, even more so than the ring.