What stories do you know about your grandfather? (Part 1)
Just One Question #4
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Go Figure
My father never talked about his childhood or his father. He grew up during the depression and only said his dad was an alcoholic and would beat him and my grandmother. As a result he became very close and protective of his mom. Yet when my dad was on his deathbed, my sister who was at his side, asked him “Who do you want to see first when you go into heaven?”, he replied, “my dad”.
Mark Lucas
In the name of love
When doing his national service in the army as a young man after recently meeting my grandmother, my grandad had his weekend leave cancelled last minute. Finding this very unfair he stole an army 4×4, drove home, and picked up my grandmother from her parents house where the military police were waiting for him when he got back. He ended up having a short spell in military prison for the journey. This was all in the name of love from the nicest most law abiding guy!
Ben
Survival on the high seas
My grandfather traveled by boat from eastern Europe in 1909. He told me he was sick and couldn’t eat the greasy stew that was served twice a day. They stopped at multiple ports taking over 25 days to arrive in the USA. When I asked what he ate to survive he said in his thick accent, “Viskey, just viskey!”
Bruce
Erdős number of 1
My grandfather had an Erdős number of 1. Paul Erdős liked to hang out with mathematicians and engineers who were originally from Hungary, like my grandparents. One time when I was about six, I was visiting my grandparents, and was sitting on the floor going through a book of Saul Steinberg drawings. Erdős dropped by to talk to my grandfather about a minor paper they were working on. He came over and talked to me about the geometric absurdities in the drawings and how weird math can be.
Paul Hoffman
Chocolate Overdose, 1907
My grandfather told us that he couldn’t stand even the smell of chocolate because he had come to San Francisco as a young man looking for work after the 1906 earthquake. He found a job cleaning up the Ghirardelli factory, scraping the thick layer of chocolate off the bricks.
Matt N
Remembrance
My grandfather grew up in a huge Irish Catholic family, and apparently when he was younger, had quite a drinking problem. One day he was out with extended family on a picnic, and he was drinking and driving (this would’ve been the 1930s). There was some kind of accident and a young child, one of his relatives named Rosemary, was killed. My mother, their first child, was about eight months old at the time, and my grandmother changed her name from the one on her birth certificate to Rosemary, the name of remembrance, to always remind my grandfather of what happened.
Poppy
10/5/24
