Which grandparent(s) did you enjoy the most and why?

I had limited contact with my grandparents growing up.. because of that I usually ended up liking the one that brought the most toys.

I enjoyed both, but I spent the most time with my paternal grandparents. They had the farm I grew up on so it was not unusual for me to spend all day with them. Some of my best memories are of times we spent together. They worked like dogs and expected the same from everyone else, but they also knew the value of family and took the time to enjoy that very much.

My mother’s parents were more fun for a kid. My grandfather carried butter rum lifesavers in his pocket and gave them away freely. He took me fishing. My grandmother played the piano and sang and my grandfather sang too. My great uncle had a farm with all sorts of animals on it including draft horses we could ride and goats we got to feed baby bottles to. It was great fun to go there.

My father’s mother was much gentler and very religious. We enjoyed her, but it was not as much fun.

I love both my grandmothers equally although I probably apprecaited my dad’s mother a little more because I didn’t see her as much growing up. I have probably taken my mum’s mother for granted at times. I definitely prefer my mum’s father to my dad’s father though. I would never tell my dad this because he really admired his father but I don’t feel that he was a very good person. He hurt a few people (myself included) in ways that are hard to forgive. My dad does not (and doesn’t need to) know this and it pleases me that my dad’s memories of his father are not tainted by the bad.

I adored my great grandmother who lived to be almost 98.
She was the classic little old white haired lady that held me in her lap and stroked my hair, baked cookies and pies with me, took me to visit all of her little old lady friends, comforted me when I was sad, and thought I was the best little girl in the world!

I was so lucky to have a grandmother like her!

I couldn’t tell you. My paternal grandparents were available to us most of the time. We would visit them every other weekend or so. My paternal grandmother would give me my favorite all time meal when I was in my teens and visiting her alone. I loved their yard and their neighbor kids and their garden. It was a restful and wonderful place to be. I think they loved me even more than my parents did.

My other grandmother lived on the other side of the country and we almost never saw her. My maternal grandfather divorced my grandmother long before I was born and I think I saw him once in my life. Maybe not. I don’t remember him, anyway. The only thing I remember is the gift of a kid-sized table and chairs.

My maternal grandmother, however, was quite a character. She had a liaison with Henry Miller, although what kind of liaison it was was never clear. She had many boyfriends after she divorced her second husband. She was an artist and she was quite unusual. Whenever I did see her, she looked at me with such pride and admiration, I couldn’t believe she was looking at me. It made me very uncomfortable, in fact, the way I imagine a woman feels when some sleazy random guy is undressing her with his eyes.

She was a pot smoker, and grew pot in her back yard, reputedly. I never saw any, but her daughter by her second husband said she was quite popular as a teenager and her friends always wanted to visit her house.

Feeling somewhat different myself, I think I identified more with my maternal grandmother, personality-wise. She was a world traveler and the lack of money never stopped her from doing anything. She wanted to take me to Russia back in the Soviet era so we could look for our ancestors. I spoke a tiny bit of Russian, but the thought of going there on my own, and being responsible for my grandmother made me a bit too anxious. I think that was the right decision. I’m adventurous, but not that adventurous. I’d been in Soviet Russia before, and didn’t think I wanted to take that on.

Both my grandfathers were dead by the time I was 13. My grandmothers understood me in different ways, as one might expect. I was close to them in different ways. My maternal grandmother understood me. I could tell her anything. My paternal grandmother cared for me in a way my parents never did.

There’s no comparing those different kinds of enjoyment, but that’s probably not why you asked. Those are my stories, fwiw.

My maternal grandparents practically raised me. I have precious memories of our times together. My grandfather died when I was 12, but my grandmother lived long enough to meet my daughter.

The paternal grandparents lived in a different town, and we only saw them once or twice a year. They were “distant and cold” compared to my mother’s parents.

I can’t pick a favorite. I was extremely close with all of my grandparents. Choosing would be impossible, all 4 of them were incredibly special to me. (So much so, that I actually tear up just writing something as simple as this. We were very close.)

I only ever knew one grandmother and she was the devils tudor on evil and drunkenness.

My maternal grandfather and my paternal grandmother were my favs. When I think it over, it was the warmth and personal acknowledgements that drew me to them. They were joyful in their own way and each of these died when I was in my early teens.

My paternal grandfather and my maternal grandmother were the polarity to the happy faces. They were immobolized in one case by laziness and in other case by squirrly-ness.

Too bad the friendly folks hadn’t been married to each other!

I wonder if it had to do with the “opposites attract” thing?

My maternal grandmother I enjoyed the most because she was the most active with us. She was always happy to see us, she taught me to swim, she played tennis with me. We, my sister and I, stayed with my maternal grandparents 3 weeks during the summers when we were young up in the catskills. She made yummy Passover dinners. She loved everything I ever created, drawings, my ideas, everything. She was patient. She introduced me to new foods. She taught me things. She was also a class act, knew fashion, liberal minded, educated, well travelled.

My maternal grandfather kind of let my grandmother do most of the caring for us when we visited, but I also have some specific memories of him making us breakfast, teaching me card games, teaching me fractions when I was very very little (which I credit him today for giving me my confidence in math).

My paternal grandfather had many diffciulties, and in retrospect I wish I had appreciated him more when I was little. Makes me sad to think about it.

My paternal grandmother died before I was born.

I only see my Dad’s parents on holidays, sometimes. If we’re invited. My Mom’s parents are lovely though. They were always so involved in everything. I loved it.

My maternal Grandfather. He was my best friend, favorite teacher and fill-in father. We’d spend 3 months of every year together, up until my teens. He taught me to keep money, to work, to drive, to be open to different people, to play and to not apologize or feel burdened for sticking to particular principles. Without him in my life, I don’t think I’d have made it this far.

From mother side .. father’s side was really .. never mind.

My mum’s mum, who we affectionately knew as Granny, holds a special place in my memories. She was so down to earth & funny as hell, yes she’s partly to blame for my sense of humour turning out the way it did. Gawd bless ya granny :¬)

Each set of grandparents had something that I loved about them. My Dad’s parents lived on a farm that is the subject of most fond summer memories. My brother, sister and I spent nearly every summer at their place. I learned most of my crafts from Nanna, and most of what I know about growing my own food.

My Mom’s parents were divorced, and Grandpop lived on a small farm, which I visited every summer. He taught me the Choctaw ways. Gramma P lived on a ranch and was married to a horse trainer, so I really enjoyed visiting them.

My Dad’s parents were actively practicing alcoholics which made life interesting, but erratic and dangerous at times. My Mom’s parents, particularly her Dad, was my favorite person in the world as I have extolled on a number of other Fluther links. He was born almost 50 years to the day before me and we just always had kind of a magical connection. He was also the last of my grandparents to pass away (at age 95) and he was sharp right up until the end. I think he was ready to die but hung on just so he would not die on my birthday (he died the next day).

This is a man who was kidnapped when he was 75 and kept a level head throughout being dropped in the Arizona desert with no shoes. We later learned that the kidnapper had killed several people before “grabbing” my grandfather. Granddad had the presence of mind to ask the kidnapper if he could keep his house keys, knowing the guy was planning to steal his car. The kidnapper agreed (probably thinking Granddad would never walk out of the desert barefoot) and Granddad kept the key to the car’s trunk because there were several guns in the trunk and he didn’t want the guy to have access to his guns and risk hurting someone else.

My maternal grandmother was great. She’d tease me, telling me she kept a horse under her bed only it was always out when I visited. She told me she had 6 toes on one foot, but I always forgot to look when she wore sandals. I spent a week with her in New York City and we went to theater every night. I spent a summer with her and got a job as a clerk in a drug store. We watched her canary molt and then as it’s feathers grew in, it began a whole new song. It would try out a phrase, practice it, and then add another phrase, The final song was 4 or 5 phrases long.

I didn’t grow up with grandparents. I met my husband when I was 20 and got to know his maternal grandfather. He was an exceptionally magnanimous and wise man. I loved talking to him and eventually thought of him as my grandfather.

I was always a little jealous of friends who had grandparents growing up.

I’ve only met one grandparent – my maternal grandmother. I’ve always thought she was great, though she’s never been a stereotypical cookie-baking, sweater-knitting, spoils-the-grandkids kind of grandparent. (I want one of those!)
Definitely passed on her love of cats to me. We do clash though…she hates Dean Martin.

Until I was an adult, I thought I had only ever met one of my grandparents. I found out later I had actually met my maternal grandmother. I just wasn’t told this is who she was.

My favourite, and really the only one I spent time with, was my paternal grandmother. My Nana. She was amazing. Strong, direct, funny and I knew she loved me and liked me. She didn’t stand for any silliness though. I used to spend weekends at her house. We would listen to the radio together, read books quietly and at other times talk for hours. She taught me to knit and crochet. After my mother died, she was the most important female in my life. I absolutely adored spending time with her.