The care and feeding of a baseball mitt

Love of nature by osmosis. He was a cranky old coot who didn't explicitly teach me much. But, he instilled in his family a love and appreciation for wildlife.

Boom, ya just sent shivers down my flu ridden spine.

I will definitely get back to you on the glove breakin' in procedure...

(I kept notes) :wink:

RH

Both o'me grandpappys was long gone before I was ever borned so neither never teached me nuttin'.

^^ yep, mine were good fer nothin too

I don't have any memories of grandparents. They all died long before I was born or within a couple years after. I only know them from photos. I've always been envious of people with long, close relationships with their grandparents and the memories they created with them.

Regarding baseball mitts, I remember my brother lovingly oiling his new mitt every chance he got and always sitting on it at the dinner table to help break it in. Mo will have lots of fun on the baseball field. Be sure to take lots of photos, mom.

I think it is absolutely fascinating that the majority of people who have posted on this thread don't remember their grandparents. And I confess to being just a little freaked out about the happy faces..... but I'm guessing that maybe they would like to hear the stories.... or something.

Butflynet, I love the story about your brother. It really registers with the kind of care we used to treat our treasures and it makes me wonder if kids really treasure anything anymore. And yes, having a long close relationship with grandparents is wonderful.

The grandparents that Mo is spending the day with today are only a few years older than me (they are his bio-grandparents) so I hope he has a LONG relationship with them.

Rockhead, it isn't too hard to send shivers down the spine of someone suffering from the flu but I'm waiting for your story and hoping you feel better soon.

Littlek -- that sentence just "breathes" you. Not the grumpy old coot part but the nature-girl, animal loving, earth loving woman I know you to be.

My father's father died before I was born and in fact my brother is named for him. But the other three were around long enough that we both remember them.

My mother's parents were from Brooklyn and by the time I came on the scene they had retired to Florida. She made the most awesome potato knishes that I can still taste. None of us have been able to duplicate them. My grandfather used to make toys out of string and cardboard, spinning things usually. He also recited poetry by heart (Dylan Thomas) and took us fossil hunting. I also recall going to look for coconuts (fallen from neighbors' trees). They both passed away in the early '70s.

My father's mother was an immigrant from Austro-Hungary and did not speak super good English. She loved a good joke and whenever we brought the dog over (he was named Snoopy), she would slip him something or other and call him Skippy, which had been the name of one of my Dad's dogs when he was little. I remember her making lamb chops. She passed away in 1984.

My grandparents were in Germany. We were in Canada. There wasn't a lot of money for big trips in those days.

I only met mrs. hamburger's father on one trip - we visited there when I was about 4 - and he'd died by the time we went back 10 years later. The main thing I recall him for is teaching me that chocolate sandwiches were yummy.

hamburger's dad was a whole nother thing. The first thing he taught me was how to roll cigarettes. I became quite a dab hand at it. Later he taught me how to top and tail green beans. He actually taught me a few useful kitchen things. He was a good cook.

I remember hamburger's dad's dad a bit as well. We visited him and my great-grandmother in a retirement home (I think) - he spent a fair bit of time teaching me an odd little dance step that I didn't see anyone else do for over 40 years - when my Egyptian folk dance instructor did it

mrs. hamburger's mother taught me to knit when she came to visit the year I was 9. That has stood me in very good stead. mrs. hamburger isn't very 'craft-y'. Her mother was, and it kind of helped to know I wasn't alone with my love of all sorts of handicrafts.

hamburger's mother was hmmm interesting. She wasn't much of a cook or housewife by my reckoning - her husband seemed to do all of it. I've never really understood how she spent her time. She was a mystery to me in many ways. She had a lot of lessons along the lines of "marry a man with a good pension" to impart. I obviously never learned that one. She, and her sisters, had style. I don't know if I learned it from her, but I 've definitely inherited her love of a flashy hat.

I will definitely have to come back when I am feeling better.

I have vivid recollections and stories from all four of my Great Grandparents on one side, and my Gram's whole generation on the other.

I am kinda the first of the first....

RH

My mother was born in '01 and my father in '06, so the grandparents were naturally born somewhat earlier. I knew my mother's parents and not my father's. Which is all too bad, quite a tilt there.

I'm not all clear on lineage. I've a friend who is into geneology who has explored but I don't know that I agree with the results. Nor do I just agree with my mother's exclamations, though some of hers make sense.

Finally, I don't give a fig, A Boston cousin instructed me on how it was the male line that mattered, and that was that. Ptui. I was just interested in who was who.


My mother's father was an old man in a chair, to my young self.. apparently the Watertown, Massachusetts, town drunk, although I don't know he held the title alone. I do perceive shame and its workings. He was a tailor. My grandmother was from southie. She saw the virgin and told her children about it, thus I know of this; it involved a prayer if she could just live.. They all moved to California in the late teens or early twenties.

I won't make fun of that vision.. But it is a tad difficult to grow up with a saint when you are seven. Actually I liked her, and we didn't have much time past that.

When I was born, there were three grandparents. Two grandmothers and one grandfather. Since they all lived on the same floor in the same building, I thought that my grandfather had two wives--one live-in, the other down the hall. I have limited memories of my father's mother. She died when I was quite young. I remember her has being a tiny woman (little grandma) who was gentle and loving with me.

My mother's parents were around all though my childhood and teenage years. I spent summers with them. My grandmother let me help her in the kitchen. No lessons. Just helping, getting the feel of things. Playing and helping. As a result, what I learned in her kitchen has stayed with me. When I cook something I used to help her with, I have an almost innate sense of what's right and what isn't. How things should looks and smell and even sound. These are the things I cook almost from instinct. And I do well by them.

My grandfather was a big strong man and a doting grandpa. I was the first granddaughter. I was sick. He came over. I couldn't swallow pills. He picked one up, put it in his mouth, and whammo--gone. Then I took the pill. No problem.

I loved going for walks with him, holding his rough hand, and hearing about the old country.

He could build/fix most anything. I loved helping. Giving him the right tools and then putting them back. I took great pleasure in watching him fix things. I took great pleasure in seeing how careful he was with his tools. I take great pleasure in fixing things (when I can). And I take very good care of my tools. There's an oil portrait of him in my apartment. I talk to him sometimes. Now I'm crying. Phooey.

Phooey, girl.

My grandmother the saint had a purple crepe dress and a purple hat with a veil. I still have that hat. She was kind and needed help. I got to thread needles for her.

bm

I meant phooey in a good way.
But you know that.

bm back at you, 2Packs...

Unfortunately I have never met either of my grandfathers.

hoping you share...

BBB
Will be back when I'm in a better mood.

BBB

I never realized this until reading this - I never really had much of a grandfather relationship.

My dad's dad passed away when I was very young. I have pictures of me sitting on his lap with a huge smile on my face. From what I have heard of him and even from the pictures he seemed to have been a very happy fun person.

I never (that I can remember) met my mom's dad until I was maybe a young teenager. He had divorced my grandmother before I was born and my mom had not spoken to him in years. When he remarried, his new wife sort of tried to bring the family back together again. We used to go over their house for Fourth of July cookouts (his wife was an awesome cook) and on Christmas Eve. He was a strong silent type, but seemed to open up more as he got older. He was a veteran of the Vietnam War and had a purple heart and several other metals.

My newest grandfather relationship is with my husband's mother's stepdad. I just love him. He is such a sweetheart. Unfortunately they live across country from us and his health is getting bad.

Regarding baseball mitts…a couple of weeks ago we just bought our daughters theirs. My older daughter got a new one this year as she has outgrown hers from last year. She has graduated to a softball mitt. It is pink with Jennie Finch's signature on it - she is very excited about having a Jennie Finch glove. My younger one got her first. It is also pink and lights up when you make a catch. They have such better choices now than when I was young.