Tell me about your grandfather.
grandfather and his brother had 40 odd villages under him. feudalism FTW
fast forward to independent India. government took everything and redistributed sh*t. left with a couple of acres and some cucumber patches.
the guy died of cancer in 1993.
don't even remember seeing him.
He died 3 weeks ago. He was 90 and an absolute badass.
my grandpa was a POW in vietnam...he actually managed to sneak/kill his way out of there without a gun or anything
Turning 91 years old in a couple of months.
Went through the Korean War.
Dude still up and about, taking the subway by himself, walking around the city... baffles the sh*t out of me.
This thread has made you realize how f**king pathetic people born after the 70's are...
God I hate our generation.
Mine is slowly slipping into insanity.
My grandfather was a race-walker and won the national championship.
He's not my genetic grandfather, he died long before I was born (prostate cancer, a recurring cause of death for the males in my family, wahey), but f**k it, I still consider him as such. Though I don't call him Grandpa, or Grandfather, or Granddad - he's always been my Geoffrey.
He's a Brit genetically - but he was born and brought up in Egypt, so he's always been very Mediterranean. As a child he'd occupy himself by putting coins on the tram tracks to try and derail them, never worked though. He had a terrifying old Greek grandmother - and when he was 8 or so, on Christmas Eve, he, for for whatever reason, decided to set fire to her favourite chair. While she was still sitting in it. She was not f**king happy - his stocking that year was nothing but coal.
He was just slightly too young to serve during World War II, though his older brother did, and he spent much of the war going sneaking into occupied territory and rescuing prostitutes from the Nazis. Geoffrey nonetheless signed up for service - and he served his time I think during the late fifties in Libya, where he was the commanding officer of one Colonel Muammar al-Gaddafi. Yes, THE Colonel Gaddafi. He married his first wife around about that time - one of my aunts in the last British child to be born in Libya before the British withdrawal, I believe - and then he came to England.
He split up with his first wife, for reasons I'm still unsure of, and around about that time he met my genetic grandmother, whose husband had died, though not before giving her two children, a son and a younger daughter - my mother. And so they hit it off, and eventually decide to tie the knot. So they marry, and decide - now we need a house.
Cont-
My grandfather talks to the utensils in his kitchen, proclaiming out loud that he knows the CIA has microphones there, put by the dead neighbour appearantly. He also thinks Hitler has won the World War II and is now every single leader on earth.
Also, my parents left me with him for days at a time. f**kyeahparenting.
Mine rode across Australia on a 5 dollar bike and eventually became an opal miner. He had no idea how to actually mine, so he would dig a couple of meters down to the hard layer, and then start a new hole. If he had chipped through this layer, to where the opals actually were, he would have actually made some profit.
My grandfather talks to the utensils in his kitchen, proclaiming out loud that he knows the CIA has microphones there, put by the dead neighbour appearantly. He also thinks Hitler has won the World War II and is now every single leader on earth.
Also, my parents left me with him for days at a time. f**kyeahparenting.
Mine is slowly slipping into insanity.
Dementiax
My dad's father left his home and family when my dad was only 6. They never heard from him again until he died. His sister tried to guilttrip him into coming to the funeral, but he made it fairly obvious that he'd only go so he could sh*t on his corpse.
My mom's grandfather managed to come back into our lives shortly before dying of a massive lung tumor that he didn't let anyone know about. My mom worked him like a dog making us a ton of sh*t (he was a carpenter) and was disliked by most of the family for being all buddy-buddy with him. He left grandma for a hot wh**re who lived down the street, and was still married to her when he died. She was a rotten piece of sh*t, and couldn't stand anything about her. Just thinking about her heavy glaucoma'd eyes makes me sick. My mom raged when she just took off with all of his sh*t when he finally died. We were left with his piece of sh*t truck, though.
He's not my genetic grandfather, he died long before I was born (prostate cancer, a recurring cause of death for the males in my family, wahey), but f**k it, I still consider him as such. Though I don't call him Grandpa, or Grandfather, or Granddad - he's always been my Geoffrey.
He's a Brit genetically - but he was born and brought up in Egypt, so he's always been very Mediterranean. As a child he'd occupy himself by putting coins on the tram tracks to try and derail them, never worked though. He had a terrifying old Greek grandmother - and when he was 8 or so, on Christmas Eve, he, for for whatever reason, decided to set fire to her favourite chair. While she was still sitting in it. She was not f**king happy - his stocking that year was nothing but coal.
He was just slightly too young to serve during World War II, though his older brother did, and he spent much of the war going sneaking into occupied territory and rescuing prostitutes from the Nazis. Geoffrey nonetheless signed up for service - and he served his time I think during the late fifties in Libya, where he was the commanding officer of one Colonel Muammar al-Gaddafi. Yes, THE Colonel Gaddafi. He married his first wife around about that time - one of my aunts in the last British child to be born in Libya before the British withdrawal, I believe - and then he came to England.
He split up with his first wife, for reasons I'm still unsure of, and around about that time he met my genetic grandmother, whose husband had died, though not before giving her two children, a son and a younger daughter - my mother. And so they hit it off, and eventually decide to tie the knot. So they marry, and decide - now we need a house.
Cont-
And they don't settle for any old house, no. They buy a castle. I'm talking battlements, spiral staircases, towers - the lot. It's f**king amazing. Admittedly, it was in incredibly bad nick when they bought it - it was just the farm house that came as extra with the farm.
So they have this farm, with this incredibly old house to go with it. Geoffrey brings his kids with him all three of them, and my grandmother brings her two, so all seven of them are living there, working on the farm together. They do up the house over the years, and make a good deal of money off the farm. Their children are all successful - my mother goes off to Cambridge, one of my uncles becomes a high-ranking officer (he's now an arms dealer), for example.
And so with the children out the way, they settle down into a comfortable retirement. They convert the outhouses into proper homes and sell them for a tidy profit, and either rent out or sell off the farm land, until what they've got left is this amazing f**k-off house and a beautiful garden to go with it. Geoffrey does an Open University course and takes up painting - he's always inspired me to do art myself - and he also takes up bee-keeping of all things, and makes brilliant honey. He's spent his retirement having brilliant fun, touring the world, playing cricket, helping with village pantomimes, spoiling me and their other grandchildren. This house of theirs is the best house for a child to play in you can imagine. It's got hidden doors, multiple wings, genuine secret passages, it was so f**king good. One time they were renovating the kitchen, accidentally damaged the wall behind the aga and discovered there was an entire other room in there they'd never even seen before.
Cont-
(pic related, it's the house, though you can barely see the entire other wing on the far side)
Mine has prostate cancer.
;_ ; I love you grandad...
And they don't settle for any old house, no. They buy a castle. I'm talking battlements, spiral staircases, towers - the lot. It's f**king amazing. Admittedly, it was in incredibly bad nick when they bought it - it was just the farm house that came as extra with the farm.
So they have this farm, with this incredibly old house to go with it. Geoffrey brings his kids with him all three of them, and my grandmother brings her two, so all seven of them are living there, working on the farm together. They do up the house over the years, and make a good deal of money off the farm. Their children are all successful - my mother goes off to Cambridge, one of my uncles becomes a high-ranking officer (he's now an arms dealer), for example.
And so with the children out the way, they settle down into a comfortable retirement. They convert the outhouses into proper homes and sell them for a tidy profit, and either rent out or sell off the farm land, until what they've got left is this amazing f**k-off house and a beautiful garden to go with it. Geoffrey does an Open University course and takes up painting - he's always inspired me to do art myself - and he also takes up bee-keeping of all things, and makes brilliant honey. He's spent his retirement having brilliant fun, touring the world, playing cricket, helping with village pantomimes, spoiling me and their other grandchildren. This house of theirs is the best house for a child to play in you can imagine. It's got hidden doors, multiple wings, genuine secret passages, it was so f**king good. One time they were renovating the kitchen, accidentally damaged the wall behind the aga and discovered there was an entire other room in there they'd never even seen before.
Cont-
(pic related, it's the house, though you can barely see the entire other wing on the far side)
Thats a f**king awesome house
I haven't seen of of my grandfather in years, so f**k him.
The other is a seventy-something year old beast of a man. He's 6'4", his hands are huge, his thumb is about 2 fingers thick. In his free times he enjoys fishing, shooting and playing the vidya on his PC. He only plays FPS and some third-person shooter games such as Call of Duty and even Ghost Recon. It's pretty cool though to be able to talk not only with my father, who even works in the vidya gaem business, but also my grandfather about gaming. He's also a pretty laid back guy, even though when he lived in Africa he almost got his throat cut by a ni**er, but he talked him out of it. A couple years back he had a heart attack but fortunately he survived, so I hope in the years to come, I will grow to be as awesome as him.
Was raised on the farm we now own mostly by the aborigional that came with a farm the family formerly owned (not a slave, just worked "for" the farm) and decided to stick with the family when they relocated. Whole lot of badass stories about this wildman he was raised by eg he could tell when the circus was passing through town which was 5 miles away because he could smell the elephants. Met my grandmother when she watched him play tennis for a few days (watched him practice everyday) and he eventually finished practice early to follow her over to where she had grass hockey practice. Love ensues etc. Never mentioned or verified but it is suspected they got married because she fell preggers.
Never went to war because he was a primary producer, had to feed the troops. Has lots of interesting stories about creative survival with rationing etc.
Still alive today, still works the farm at 83, grandma passed away few years ago, the only time I have ever seen him express a strong emotion was at her funeral, he cried silent tears.
And they don't settle for any old house, no. They buy a castle. I'm talking battlements, spiral staircases, towers - the lot. It's f**king amazing. Admittedly, it was in incredibly bad nick when they bought it - it was just the farm house that came as extra with the farm.
So they have this farm, with this incredibly old house to go with it. Geoffrey brings his kids with him all three of them, and my grandmother brings her two, so all seven of them are living there, working on the farm together. They do up the house over the years, and make a good deal of money off the farm. Their children are all successful - my mother goes off to Cambridge, one of my uncles becomes a high-ranking officer (he's now an arms dealer), for example.
And so with the children out the way, they settle down into a comfortable retirement. They convert the outhouses into proper homes and sell them for a tidy profit, and either rent out or sell off the farm land, until what they've got left is this amazing f**k-off house and a beautiful garden to go with it. Geoffrey does an Open University course and takes up painting - he's always inspired me to do art myself - and he also takes up bee-keeping of all things, and makes brilliant honey. He's spent his retirement having brilliant fun, touring the world, playing cricket, helping with village pantomimes, spoiling me and their other grandchildren. This house of theirs is the best house for a child to play in you can imagine. It's got hidden doors, multiple wings, genuine secret passages, it was so f**king good. One time they were renovating the kitchen, accidentally damaged the wall behind the aga and discovered there was an entire other room in there they'd never even seen before.
Cont-
(pic related, it's the house, though you can barely see the entire other wing on the far side)
But now he's getting pretty old and frail. He's transformed from this amazing grandfather who can paint and dance and beekeep and contact world leaders and swim (did I mention they've got a heated outdoor swimming pool?) to this man who can barely walk and has trouble hearing what you're saying. He's slowly going senile and it terrifies me. They've recently got a load handrails put in round the house, which must be so embarrassing for him, as well as a chairlift to get him upstairs. It must be awful for him - he can't even get into most of his own house now - for example if you look at the picture, above the archway is this amazing room, huge and incredibly well-lit that used to be his painting studio, and he can't have been up there in years now. It's full of old boxes and old memories, and whenever I go up there I'm filled with an immense sadness.
I'm losing him and it's terrifying me.
But now he's getting pretty old and frail. He's transformed from this amazing grandfather who can paint and dance and beekeep and contact world leaders and swim (did I mention they've got a heated outdoor swimming pool?) to this man who can barely walk and has trouble hearing what you're saying. He's slowly going senile and it terrifies me. They've recently got a load handrails put in round the house, which must be so embarrassing for him, as well as a chairlift to get him upstairs. It must be awful for him - he can't even get into most of his own house now - for example if you look at the picture, above the archway is this amazing room, huge and incredibly well-lit that used to be his painting studio, and he can't have been up there in years now. It's full of old boxes and old memories, and whenever I go up there I'm filled with an immense sadness.
I'm losing him and it's terrifying me.
Some men deserve immortality
MY GRANDFATHER IS DEEEAAAAAAAAAD
Luckily my other grandfather is alive and well. Don't know him all that well, though.
Both my Grandfathers died before I was born.
One worked as a coal miner most of his life (most likely contributing to his short life) while the other was a decorated pathfinder pilot during the second world war. He left my Grandmother an enormous house after he passed on, but she was forced to sell it since it was too big for just her
On my dad's side, I don't know much other than that he was a professional bass player and singer, like in clubs and sh*t.
On my mom's side, my grandfather is a great guy. He's super republican and will go off on you if you insult the USA, but otherwise he's remarkably laid-back and chill, which is surprising since my grandmother is a massive c**t. He was in the reserves in WWII but never saw combat. He made his living by opening an antiques shop and actually got a good amount of money off of it. He was born in Hell's Kitchen in NYC, moved to Connecticut to settle down with my grandmother, then moved down here with her when my mom did. I can tell he really loves my bitchy grandmother, for whatever reason, but if I were him I'd smother her with a pillow.
Great f**king guy he is.
My grandfather got a sex change and became a bitch and a wh**re.
Grandfathers are by far the most awesome relatives
My Grandfather was an Air Force Tech Sergeant for the USAF during the late 1950s and Early 1960s. He was stationed in Alaska IIRC. I know for certain he was a drill instructor and he wasn't too shy about raising my father in the way he trained troops, apparently. He had a brain aneurysm before I was born and much of his frontal lobe was removed, although he's made like a 90% recovery.
Grandfather one: The most intelligent, wise, compassionate, selfless, and moral human being I've ever met. He's an atheist, a war veteran, and eighty-five years old but still goes to work every day, rebuilding racing engines.
Grandfather two: The biggest a**hole I've ever known. Racist against all races (including white people, despite the fact that he's white); hates everyone and everything. Ex-airforce, brought back a Nazi officer sword from WW2 (no idea if he killed the guy or just looted it from a corpse). Single-handedly divided my dad's entire family so bad that I've never even met over 50% of my blood relatives. When I was 8 and trying to make my gorgeous ginger cousin into my gorgeous ginger girlfriend, he somehow causes her parents to move far, far away and I'm never told why. 20 years later, at his funeral (heart disease), AFTER I've said what nice things about him I could find to say, I fidn out that he raped my cousin and her older sister, and that's why she had to move away. F**k, if I'd known that when I was a kid I would have killed him in his sleep, with his own war trophy sword.
Overall, pretty extreme opposites. I like the one who is still alive much better.
Thats a f**king awesome house
You cannot even begin to imagine how f**king awesome it is to play hide and seek in when you're seven years old. Best memories of my life, right there.
I'll try and find some more photos.
My grandfather hung himself when I was two. Filthy Puerto Rican...
Grandfather 1 was an airplane mechanic during the Korean war. He died in 1993 so I didn't really know him.
Grandfather 2 was a mechanical engineer. He had dementia for practically as long as I can remember, and he died two years ago.
Sucks for me I guess
Paternal = An alcoholic wife beater who repaired train lines and died when my dad was 10.
Maternal = A pretty cool old retired farmer who is very smart and one of the men I most look up to.
Both were in dubya dubya two. One was just a merchant marine. He spent a lot of his time as a radio dude. He talked to people all around the world and had room full of radio stuff. He was really smart, too. My other grandpa I never really saw because he was half a country away. He was a quartermaster on a battleship in the pacific. I couldn't tell you which or when.
You cannot even begin to imagine how f**king awesome it is to play hide and seek in when you're seven years old. Best memories of my life, right there.
I'll try and find some more photos.
Close up of one of the towers/roof from the garden.
And yeah, I don't remember my paternal grandfather much. We never really saw that side of the family nearly so much, and he died when I was about 6 or 7 I think. He was a pretty standard lower-middle class/upper-working class guy as far as I can remember. He actually got outlived by his own mother, our "Nanny", who got seriously senile by the end, couldn't remember who was who or when it was.
My grandfather? Okay.
My mother once told me that when I was two years old I sat on his lap and pissed myself.
This amused him.
He died soon after this incident, while birdwatching, he fell off of a cliff.
Heh.
My grandfather was a great man, who spent more than 50 years with my grandmother and did everything he could to make his grandchildren and family happy. He never seemed to complain about his health problems and was joking to the end I'm sure.
He fought in Korea, Marines, and really believed in doing the right thing. I learned more about life from him than I gave him credit for. And he was a fantastic cook, as I can still remember his cornish game hens on Christmas.
Basically, my grandfather was awesome and I miss him a lot. He was, as he put it, a real home made'r.
And here's a wider shot of it, though you still can't properly see the shape of it all - it's too wings, the one on the left of the picture being a slightly smaller, newer one. In the middle is the archway, which is a massive room with a carved roof about 20 feet high or so, at least 2 stories. The old side is my grandparents' wing - the new one is just for guests, apart from the kitchen downstairs. Surprisingly I don't actually have many photos of it, I'll need to get more next time I'm there.
Father's side died before I was born. He had a seriously rough life. His father (my great-grandfather) left his mother and him because of another woman. My grandfather then had to go to work at 15 years because his mother couldn't support them both. He then met my grandmother and moved to another town, from where he raised 4 sons and became an alcoholic, but not the violent or angry kind. He immediately always went to sleep when he started to act like a jerk. He kept working to his death, first by himself then with his sons. At the age of 64, this man died of a heart attack.
Osh-vitz.
Father's side died before I was born. He had a seriously rough life. His father (my great-grandfather) left his mother and him because of another woman. My grandfather then had to go to work at 15 years because his mother couldn't support them both. He then met my grandmother and moved to another town, from where he raised 4 sons and became an alcoholic, but not the violent or angry kind. He immediately always went to sleep when he started to act like a jerk. He kept working to his death, first by himself then with his sons. At the age of 64, this man died of a heart attack.
Mother's side is still alive and pretty well. A woodsman as well, his father died in a war when he was really young. He got 3 daughters and has won the national throwing darts competition, as well as some skiing competitions.
I'll talk about the one on my father's side that I get along better with. He only studied up till third grade. When he was young he moved to Germany to work as a miner, he had never seen a mine in his life and when he found out there were no windows he left, It took him a year to get back to where he originally lived. He was hired in a quarry, he was supposed to do manual work, but they soon found out he was incredibly smart, all engineers consulted him before doing anything. The quarry closed and he fell into total misery, in fact when my dad was born (January) he always says that there was lot's of snow and there was no glass on the windows so he put his jacket and clothes on them to not let the cold wind harm the baby. He started working as a waiter. He is now over-80 and is still a hard-worker he prunes olive trees and has some land to farm.
when I was little he'd take me out to the city's park every day and buy me an ice cream cone and told me i was pretty and now im crying
Maternal: Dairy farmer from Ireland, born from a line of Dairy farmers... from Ireland. Never knew him. Died of Alzheimer's.
Paternal: Puerto Rican Separatist and Communist Revolutionary who took up arms in the attempted Puerto Rican revolution. He then sneaked into America and was allegedly party to the assassination attempt of Truman. His children, my father included, were taken away and placed in orphanages with secret American military youth training programs (for the impending war in southeast asia) by the FBI. Never knew him. Died of cancer.
one died before I was born and I saw the other about 5 times then he disowned us all. i haven't seen him in other a decade.
i don't care either.
Any of you gentlemen go to Imperial College London? My grandfather was head of the student union there and was heavily involved in buying and restoring that old fire engine that's your mascot now called Jezebel.
Moms side: went to Harvard and MIT (played in a jazz band at one of them), then became an engineer for Pratt & Whitney engines, and he liked to sail in his spare time. He apparently invented "hot wire anemometers" and worked with the Russians on science stuff that my mom doesn't know what it was. I thank him for my dry humor and strong sense of wit. Speaking of which, his phrase for his 25-year reunion was "eight kids and no felonies!"
Dads side: Picked up and moved the family every few months, convinced the next town up the road had some big opportunity. Inevitably, he would fail at whatever he was trying to do (open a new store, start a farm, etc) and move on to the next town. He had a heart attack from smoking, and the doctor told him he could never smoke again because it would kill him. First thing he did was go down to the lobby of the hospital and buy a pack and start smoking (this was before smoking was banned in hospitals, of course) and died from another heart attack, right there on the floor.
fun story for bored people
My grandfather was in the Korean War and was sailing over there on a navy boat on December 31 of what ever year it was and crossed the international dateline, so on new year's eve of 1952 or 53, he did not exist.
My grandfather on my mother's side was an allround great guy. Maybe a bit overprotective but a very nice man. He died of mouth cancer when I was 12. My grandmother never got over it and died this year also of cancer complications.
My grandfather on my father's side was a school teacher and the type for it. Strict, but kind. He killed himself by stepping into a pond with stones in his pockets when I was 8. This was perhaps caused by my grandmother who was a raging alcoholic; she died when I was 15.
In short, I liked both of them, but didn't really know either extremely well.
Both Grandpas were Norwegian farmers their entire life that just started a farm in their home area, one died before me, one died after, didn't know them at all, I was the youngest son of their youngest kids, so they were pretty old when I was born. They both had nice upscale farms, good looking wives and a gazillion children so they were pretty badass both of them.
Since my parents were the youngest of both their respective sibling flocks they weren't gonna inherit sh*t, so they moved to the city.
My fathers father died before i was born.
My mothers father died when i was 2.
I don't know any stories about either of them.
This reminds me of something i said to a friend a few months ago when her grandfather died, "at least you knew yours".
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