I remember as a child living at my grandparents house in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania in the 1960's. My mother and I lived with her parents from the time I was five until I was twelve years old. I love my grandparents and have many fond memories of them. We lived in the city with tiny back yards and even tinier front yards. You could almost touch the house next door via a small alley between the houses. Gran's house was up on the hill, three houses down from the corner of an intersection. Ours was an inter-racial neighborhood, but we all seemed to get along and life was good.
We walked at least three blocks to a small market for food, I walked to school four or more blocks, and my Mom and my Grandfather walked to the "streetcar" station to get a ride to and from work downtown. My grandparents didn't own a car. Later Mom bought a car and life was a bit easier, plus we could visit our relatives who lived out in the country. It broadened our horizons.
I remember my Grandfather having a small garden in the back where he grew the best tomatoes I've ever eaten and sunflowers galore. I'd stare at their sunny faces and watch the birds eat their seed. One time someone gave Grandpa some unusual seeds which produced great big pod that split open when dried and the seeds would fall out. The shape of the pod reminded us of a bird's head and beak, so we dubbed them "bird plants". We dried them and painted them as ornaments and gave them out to friends and family. Everyone who saw them wanted seeds. We passed out a lot of seeds and painted ornaments,but I still don't know the Latin name for them to this day. I had kept some of the painted ornaments but over the years, even those got lost or broken. I've never seen them anywhere else.
My grandparents always encouraged creativity in my mother and myself. My grandfather would take me down cellar where he had a nice workbench. He would show me how to saw wood by hand and make small things out of it. He always had a big box of wood scraps under the workbench which was fun to rifle through at the age of seven, imagining what I could create with them.
My grandmother and I would spend hours at the dining-room table drawing freehand or in coloring books. My Mom worked a lot, so Gran and I spent a lot of time together.
One of my fondest memories is when I was two years old and my uncle showed up with a 2 month old Chihuahua for my birthday. A tiny chocolate and tan baby who I loved with all my heart, until he died at the ripe old age of nineteen or twenty. He was the best dog ever. He tolerated all of my childish ways like a trouper. I sorely miss him to this day.
My aunt and uncle lived in the city about thirty minutes away and we saw them fairly often. Later they had my two cousins. Mom only had one sibling, so we are a relatively small family. My father was an only child, as I am. Funny how things go.
My grandfather's family are Scottish and English. My grandmother's family are German. My biological father's family are Italian. So that makes me Scots/English/German/Italian. Not exactly "Heinz 57" but varied none the less.
My Grandmother died in 1983 of cancer, though she never smoked a day in her life. My Grandfather died around 1974 of lung cancer. He smoked unfiltered cigarettes most of his life.
I am grateful to have had wonderful grandparents and for the time we spent together.
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