27. Grandma

Maxwell J. Ratti-Bicknell
5/7/08
Grandpa

“What?!”
“No!”
“How?!”
“When!?”
Those were my words
When my grandpa had a
Heart attack
On his way down to
South Carolina
His back hurt,
His chest hurt,
His neck hurt,
He stayed at the
Hospital for 3 days
And for 3 nights
Then he came home
And he needed to rest
He did
His back rested
His chest rested
His neck rested
Then he felt
All better

Grammie’s Ring

By Melina Myers
Ferrisburgh Central School, Grade 3

My Grammie has a purple ring
A lovely ring
My Grammie has a ring
With a blue birthstone
That we share
We went to see her
In the hospital
She looked up at me
And asked in a soft voice
A weak voice
If I wanted her ring
I said, “No”
Then she said,
“I’ll save this ring for you”
Then I gave her a hug
And kiss
And we left the hospital
And dad said,
“She wanted you
To have that ring
So you’ll remember her
Forever.”

My Grammy

By Sofia V.G. Collas
Ferrisburgh Central School, Grade 3

My grammy has long hair
White hair
Pony tailed hair
Straight hair
I hope I’ll be as pretty as her

She turns off the wire fence
The shocking fence
A thin fence
A silver fence
Around the garden so I won’t get hurt

We are going to make a pie
A delicious pie
A homemade pie
A yummy pie
The one I will make with my grammy

When I see her I feel love
My legs feel love
My stomach feels love
My heart feels love
I love my grammy

Papa showed me a photo
Of himself
In a white uniform
He was marching
With his gun
And other men
And I began
To imagine
Papa in the front yard
With his gun
That has a sword on it
That he had when he was a marine
He shoots the gun
BANG!
O no! Here comes Minnie,
My grandma,
And she is mad at Papa
“Run!” he yells to me
And I run so fast
My shoe almost falls off
I run all the way
To the back yard
After Minnie is gone
I run back
And he shoots away at a target
And we didn’t get in trouble
Again.

Jared J. Gray
3/28/08
Language art
GRANDMA
My grandma is very kind and she always makes sure that we are all right if we ever get hurt. If she feels like it she will always come and say hi to her little puppy that is at our house. He loves his new mommy. He is so spoiled that every time grandma comes up to our house, all but one of the dogs goes running to the door. We have started to train Swiffer to walk on a leash. He loves his little doggy bones that he gets for being a good dog. The one thing everybody loves about grandma is she makes the best home made chocolate in the whole wide world. She loves us kids so much.

My Grandma is always,
teaching me,
What I now know.
She taught me how to fish,
And about her.
She taught me,
All I know about computers.
If me and my mom had a fight,
She would usually take my side.
My grandfather,
Unfortunately I can’t say much about,
He died before I was born.
He broke his neck,
Diving into a lake.
My mom said that,
He would be very proud.

Grandma

By Steven Ladka
Hartford Memorial Middle School, Grade 8

The smell of your house
The stuff you buy
The love you give me
These are some of the special importances inside you.

The way your voice calms me down
And makes me remember good times when I’m having bad times.
The stories you tell me remembering all the good and enjoyable times I have had in my life.

I don’t think I could have lived without you, Grandma!

Grandparents

By Emily Fariel
Hartford Memorial Middle School, Grade 8

I may have never known you
You never knew me.
Although
I am reminded of your life
Everywhere I look.
Your
Paintings,
Books.
All reminders of
You
Your remarkable life.
If only you had stayed
One more year.
At least I would have met you
You would have met me.
Or maybe even longer
Than that one year
And I could have learned
Just how you did it.
Maybe someday.

My Grandmother

By Amber Boyce
Hartford Memorial Middle School, Grade 8

My grandmother sits, hair permed to perfection. She has gray hairs playing peek-a-boo in a mass of brunette dye.
My grandfather sits in his chair, his snow white hair tightly around his head. His glasses barely cling to his face as he leans over his paper.
Sentimental feelings wrapped in the splendor of romance can make time stand still.

My grandfather is who I am.
He made me myself and what I am.
I am the sensitive guy.
I am a strong guy physically.
I am the guy who knows how to run a chain saw.
I am the guy who knows how to drive a truck, a bulldozer, and a huge John Deere tractor.
I’m the guy who knows how to rebuild a motor in three days.
I am the guy who can shoot a squirrel from 100 yards away with no scope.
I am the guy who is my grandfather.

Grammy "M"

By Molly Mead
Hartford Memorial Middle School, Grade 8

I’d go to your house when I was little
And you would always give me those vanilla wafers.
The Red Sox would always be on the TV.
And sometimes you would be playing solitaire on your table
Listening to the game instead of watching it.
Your house smelled like cigarette smoke
But that didn’t bother me too much
It was just the best to be at your house.
When I was done with my vanilla wafer
I would run up your staircase
There were tons of rooms to play in
And each time was like a new adventure.
There was a bell that I would ring and
You’d yell up the stairs and tell me to stop.
And I would giggle and run into a new room
I’d be up there for what seemed like hours.
I miss those days, I miss you.

I will always remember
the cupcakes we made
that beautiful day on the beach
with the seagulls flying up above
and my gramma’s long braided hair.
I wish I didn’t have to remember
the cigarette smoke though.
I sure do miss her.

Grandfather

By Mindy Yeung
Hartford Memorial Middle School, Grade 8

The nice warm smell lingers in the air.
Chairs and tables made of red wood sit silently on the cold marble floor.
Small breezes run lightly around the chair Grandfather used to rest in.
Now, his comfortable presence is gone
Along with the shine in his eyes.
His loud energetic laugh floats away
And all there is left
Is the warm smell of scented essence.

Grandma

Alicia Cerasoli
Hartford Memorial Middle School, Grade 8

I gaze out the shining bright window
Soft blue sky stares back.
I sit on her lap and listen.
I listen to her rich, love-filled voice.
She rocks me and sings me a song.
Time pauses around me
Nothing else matters.
The homey smell of
Fresh, warm, chewy cookies
Lingers through the air.
Grandpa sits still reading the paper
In the den.
She sings to me that a bumble bee
Will come and give me love and joy.
She cradles her soft, old hands
Around my body and hums.
I get a warm feeling in my heart and it spreads
Inside-
Out.

He’s gone. I can’t find him. “Gram? Anybody? Please tell me, why are you all crying and where’s grandpa?”
More tears. “Mom, tell me what’s wrong,” I say with more rage than expected.
More tears. Then I realize he’s gone, and he’s watching my fury and frustration. I’ve made him pity me. “No, it’s not fair. He can’t be gone. No! You’re wrong! I hate you!”
I can’t control myself any longer. “You’re wrong! Where is he?” Then I crash.
She says, “He’s gone."
“Mom, please, I love him. He can’t simply be gone.”
All I get as a reply is, “His wake is Thursday night at Knight's funeral home in Hartford.”
With a snap there’s no more happy girl. Now it’s sad wondering girl.
Missing: Grandpa. Can you help me?

Respect your elders. My mother used to always say to me. Well, I say I will respect them if they respect me. I mean honestly, all they ever do is yell at me or lecture me. Why should I be nice to someone like that?
Of course I love them, but sometimes I just want to trip their cane, watch them fall to the floor, then yell to them, “Respect your youngers!”
I know that’s mean, and I guess I don’t really think that, but I wish they’d give us a break sometimes. For Pete’s sake, they’ve already lived their old lives. Now it’s our turn.

My grandparents are not like ordinary grandparents. My grandparents are superheroes! But it’s a big secret! Don’t tell anyone!
You would think that someone would have figured it out by now. But no. The other people at the nursing home seem to think that these two old people running around in tight costumes and leather masks are normal.
Some people, like the small old lady in the wheelchair, think that my grandparents are crazy. And just so that this crazy couple doesn’t feel left out and wonder why they are the only ones wearing these colorful clothes, they begin asking their oldest children to start dressing them in these super hero outfits, too.
Of course, then their kids don’t know what to think. Then, the kids just have to ask, “Mom? Dad? Are you guys feeling all right? Why super hero outfits, Mom? Don’t you think its kind of … weird?”
Then, the parents can only say, “Sorry, Kids! Just trying to fit in!”

I looked next to me. Old man with no hair and wrinkled features, huge thick rimmed glasses and no posture. I looked to the other side of me. Old woman with fiery red hair and long purple nails with too much glue on her fake eyelashes and bright blue eye shadow with red smudged lips. I looked all around me. I was surrounded by old people. I tried to run, but the door was locked. They wanted me to play bingo and drink prune juice. But I wouldn’t give in. I would not turn to the dark side!
“I DON’T WANT TO BE OLD!’ I screamed loud and clear. Then there was a thud. I opened my eyes. I saw my grandma rushing over to me. She held me close and tried to calm me down.
“You were just dreaming, honey!” Soon I felt better and fell asleep in her arms, going back to the world of old.

Grandma

By Leah Thomas
Woodstock Union High School, Grade 10

G reat friend
R eally good cook
A nd above all
N othing bad
D oes love to play with
M e, house and tea parties
A grandma is oh, so special

I Will Never Forget

By Carly Harris
Woodstock Union High School, Grade 10

Remember when we went to church
remember when we baked all day
remember when we took those walks
and when you let me stay up late just to play.

The hugs that never stopped
The love that always came
the warmth of your heart...
that came right from the start.

And now you lay
in this cemetery
and all the thoughts of the times we had
the times we shared
and the times we cared.

I will never forget.

Remember when when we went to church,
remember when we baked all day,
remember when we took those walks
and when u let me stay up late just to play.

The hugs that never stoped,
The love that always came,
the warmpth of your heart...
that came right from the start.

And now you lay,
in this cemetary,
and all the thoughts of the times we had
the times we shared,
and the times we cared.

I will never forget.

Remember when when we went to church,
remember when we baked all day,
remember when we took those walks
and when u let me stay up late just to play.

The hugs that never stoped,
The love that always came,
the warmpth of your heart...
that came right from the start.

And now you lay,
in this cemetary,
and all the thoughts of the times we had
the times we shared,
and the times we cared.

I will never forget.

Grandmother
Grandfather
Papa
Nana
Mimi
Nan
Pap
Grammy
Granny
Grampa
Grandmary
Grandpop
Gram
Yaya
Papu

Grandma's Lesson

By Douglas Clift
Mt. Mansfield Union High School, Grade 12

Waves of warm air tumbling o’er
As I step fondly through the door
A long day finally done
School has been such a bore.

Smells borne in the heavy air make
Many tired senses awake
As I inhale deeply, I know
That Grandma’s decided to bake

A batch of her favorite treat.
With conversation discreet
I am kept far away, but my
Nose knows there is something sweet

Later that night, with footsteps like thunder
I tiptoe to the jar, trying not to blunder
And incur the wrath of a grandma
Who’s just found her loot plundered.

But good fortune wouldn’t smile on me
As very soon I might live to see.
Any grandma can sense mischief in kids
And mine was no different for me

She stood in the door, looking stern
My guilty face started to burn
As I brushed the crumbs from my lips
She gave a small grin, ‘So what did you learn?’

With a smirk and a shake of my head

Grandma’s house

By Kierstan Merrill
Rochester High School, Grade 9

Baking cookies
Watching movies
Telling stories
Having no worries
Her cozy hugs
Nice hot chocolate in her special mugs
Sitting by the fire
That I love to admire
When it's time to go
On my cheek it will show
A big lipstick stain
And it’s rude to complain
She says I love you
We say we love you too
And we leave grandma's house
Until next time

Would Have . . .

By Karlie Kauffeld
Leland and Gray Union High School, Grade 11

“Your Grandmother would have loved you”
they tell me
When I come dancing out of my room,
in a teal feather boa.
When I clip enormous flashy earrings
onto my tiny earlobes.
When I belt out Elvis Presley’s “Hound Dog”
for my chuckling family.
When I insist that dressing up in my nice Easter dress
is, in fact, wearing a fairy skirt with spotted pink tights.
When I beg to buy a shirt
spattered with magentas and greens.
When I carry the silver, sequin-covered prom dress
into the tiny dressing room
remarking, “Gee, this does look good!”
always,
“Your Grandmother would have loved you”

My mom's memories of her are
lively
and
colorful
They taste of maple syrup
and smell like ginger cookies
They dance across her mind and vibrate
They are warm hugs and humorous anecdotes

My memories are
cold
and
clinical
The smell of old
and they taste the acrid taste of fear
they are dead
they stare at me blankly
and I don't know what to do with them
I want to hold them tight
but, like butterflies
I'm afraid of breaking their wings

My Bonne Maman

By Kevin Roisin
Homeschooled, Croydon, NH, Grade 11

“Ooh la la!” were the words I heard as I poured ketchup onto my hamburger. As a child of six, I simply assumed the words meant “too much ketchup.” However, they were in fact an exclamation of surprise uttered by my Belgian grandma - or, my very own Bonne Maman. Now when I think of her, I see a woman of love, who has made it through her many years by relying on a subtle wit, and a slightly detached attitude toward the hardships in life. Whatever the joy or crisis, she brings a motherly approach to all things. Despite the language barrier, every time I see her in Belgium, she manages to communicate her love to me. Whether it’s cooking my favorite dish, washing my laundry, or simply attempting to bridge the language gap and have a conversation, she always makes me feel at home and loved by her.

When I hear the word Grandpa, this is what I think of.

I think of my Opa. Opa means Grandfather in German. My Opa died when I was in second grade, but I will always remember him. My Opa was probably the most artistic man on the face of the Earth. I believe this because he made countless beautiful pictures. But he will never be able to create any more paintings,and that makes me want to be with him again. I loved him. Then, one day, he disappeared from the human eye. Why couldn't he come back? Why couldn't he still be there with me? I wanted him right then and there...to come back.
My Opa was so much fun, too. He'd talk and laugh when my family and I came,
and he'd be waiting for us when we came to visit. When I saw him at the door, I felt great because I thought he'd always be there for us, but I guess I was wrong. I miss his jolly face so much. I try to imagine it, but it is just not the same. I want him around forever-I needed him forever!
I never even noticed that death was approaching.
I remember when I was little and I fell asleep on his lap. He was so cozy. I can almost still feel my skin on his warm flannel shirt.
I remember, maybe a week after he died, I had a dream that he came back. For that whole night, I actually thought he was still alive,but now I know that that is not true.
My Oma(grandma)is 91 and really lonely now that Opa died. I know exactly how she feels-weak, and like you'd never be happy again.
And that is true. I never really will get over the fact that he died. I want him to be around forever and ever. It is so hard to lose someone you love so much.
At the funeral, the priest said words about how Opa would be happy in his new home but would miss us very much. Well, at least that was what I knew. I cried thinking of how I would never see his merry face again,except in old photographs. Why did he need to leave us? I guess it was just time.
And that is what comes to my mind when I hear the word grandpa-My Opa.

My grandma died
the other day.
I didn't quite know
what to think
I stayed quiet as my mom
and brother cried.
I didn't shed a tear.

Only at the funeral
did I cry,
when thoughts of my own
mortality
crept into my head.
I felt selfish,
as if I thought
I deserved the life more.

And then I broke down.