Both of my grandfathers served in the military—one in Korea and the other in World War II. This isn’t an uncommon story; many people my age share similar backgrounds. Those younger than us often have grandfathers who served in Vietnam, but discussions about their experiences were often muted. My maternal grandfather, whom we affectionately called Gramps, would only mention that he drove a truck in France. My paternal grandfather, a decorated hero who once navigated a blazing tank back to base, never spoke of his service. He had even married my grandmother when she was just 15, and she remained silent about their life until he returned. From them, we learned the art of discretion and the importance of keeping certain things private.
Grandparents can be a treasure trove of wisdom, and I was fortunate to have two wonderful pairs: Grandma and Grandpa on my father’s side, and Nana and Gramps on my mother’s. I had a unique bond with Nana and Gramps, while my sibling connected more with Grandma and Grandpa. They were the go-to grandparents when we were under the weather. I recall how my sister stayed at Grandma’s house for a week and a half when she had pneumonia. Meanwhile, Nana was known for her comforting buttered toast and her captivating readings of “The Adventures of Tom Sawyer.” We were truly blessed.
Everyone has that quirky grandparent—the one who wore vibrant colors and spoke their mind without a second thought. Adults might cringe at their antics, but we cherished their uniqueness. My Grandma had a vast collection of miniature bears, and her home was filled to the brim with them. She drove a huge burgundy Buick, and if you called her, you had to let the phone ring twice and hang up, then call again, or she’d mistake you for her friend Minerva, who could chat for hours. Grandma taught us the value of authenticity.
Nana was a different breed. She embodied the classic image of a grandmother with her milk-and-cookies approach, always primping her hair on Fridays and attending church on Sundays. Most people had a grandma like her—though Nana stood out with her striking black hair. The most valuable lesson she imparted was how to handle a knife in the kitchen. She was teaching me to cook when she passed away when I was 13, but I remember vividly how, at just 7 years old, she showed me the proper way to grip my ingredients and keep my fingers safe. I started with celery, then moved on to apples, pears, and eventually, chicken.
Grandparents also instill in us the concept of loyalty. The so-called “greatest generation” was known for their stability and commitment. Nana and Gramps were lifelong Catholics, attending the same church where they had made their First Communions together. Gramps took on countless roles within the church, while Nana led the Women’s Club for many years. She was the one who introduced me to prayer, and when she passed, she was laid to rest at that very church. That is what true loyalty looks like.
Perseverance is another lesson grandparents impart subtly, often through hobbies like carpentry or knitting. Gramps had a passion for collecting unusual coins, dedicating his life to finding wheat pennies, bicentennial quarters, and other unique pieces of currency. By the time my children were born, he had amassed an impressive collection worth over $200 in bicentennial quarters alone. That’s dedication.
Less than our parents but more than anyone else, grandparents teach us how to treat others. Despite their occasional grumbling about different communities, they showed me the importance of connection and kindness. Nana and Gramps frequented the same Greek diner every week, chatting with the waitstaff and asking about their lives. They treated those who served them with respect, always leaving generous tips. This upbringing shaped my own approach to kindness; I found myself asking waitstaff about their day and ensuring I tipped well.
Grandparents also introduce us to the concept of death. Often, the first real loss we face is that of a grandparent. We learn to navigate grief through their passing. I remember when Nana died when I was 13, retreating to my room with a book to escape the overwhelming pain. Gram passed during my college years, and I was heartbroken to see her laid to rest in her favorite pajamas. Gramps, now in assisted living, struggles with age-related challenges, teaching us about the fragility of life. We learn the terms of medical conditions and the reality of aging. Each lesson, though painful, makes us more human.
While I don’t see Gramps often—he lives nearly 700 miles away—I carry his name through my eldest son. I feel incredibly fortunate to have experienced the love and wisdom of all my grandparents. They were remarkable individuals, each with their own quirks and strengths, and I hold dear the lessons they imparted.
For those of us who had the blessing of growing up with grandparents, we recognize the profound impact they had on our lives. Now, as an adult, I realize how lucky I am to be shaped by their teachings.
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Summary
Grandparents are a wellspring of wisdom, guiding us through life lessons about loyalty, kindness, and the realities of aging. From cooking skills to understanding grief, their teachings leave a lasting imprint on our hearts. We are fortunate to learn from their experiences and love.
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