Did anyone else have "not so nice" grandparents?

In My Humble Opinion
21

My wife’s paternal grandfather was apparently a bit of a jerk. He loved my wife, but basically hated everyone else. Her grandparents basically all died within a couple of years of each other just before I met her family, with the exception of her maternal grandfather (who was suffering the effects of Alzheimer’s by the time I met him).

The rest of her family is fond of telling me how much Grandma A and Grandma B would have loved me, and less frequently, they mention how much Grandpa A would have hated me (I would have been extra-hated because I’m brown, apparently).

22

Both grandmothers adored their children and grandchildren and we could do no wrong in their eyes. Going for visits meant being spoiled with gifts and eating lots of candy.

Both grandfathers felt the same but both beat their wives and constantly cheated on them when they were younger so it was weird to see loving, doting grandfathers and know that they were actually pretty horrible people.

23

My mother’s father walked in on my grandmother in bed with another man and my then five year old mom in her crib. He got a divorce and raised Mom as a single dad in the 1930s. Friends of his tried to get him to place her in an orphanage, because “it just wasn’t right” in that day and age for a single man to raise his daughter. He was also regularly beaten up on the job by an alcoholic boss (who knew too much for them to fire) until the Santa Fe Railroad was unionized. It was the Depression, and jobs were hard to come by.

Mom fought depression as a young adult, but eventually overcame it and found a successful life through her volunteer work with Girl Scouts, through teaching swimming and also through her work as a lower level manager. Unsurprisingly, her relationship with her mother was …measured, and while she was never mean to anyone, I can’t say that there was much affection between Grandmother and me.

The other grandparents were dead by the time that I came along. No offense to Grandmother, but only with this thread am I now realizing my loss.

24

My maternal step-grandfather raised my mother and her sisters from childhood, and they adored him, but he had no use for the plethora of grandchildren. When we visited, he hid out in his man cave in the basement and pounded on his ceiling with a broom every time the horde gallopped through the house.

He was a racist and didn’t keep quiet about it. Perhaps the biggest love in his life was a second-hand Hudson that he purchased and painted silver. When someone told him that the first owner was a black man, Grandpa said, “I always thought that car smelled bad”, and he sold it the next day.

The biggest thing I will never forgive him for was the time he hired the grandkids to pick bagworms off his shrubs. We were supposed to get 50 cents each. The job absolutely sickened me, but I did it for over two hours along with my cousins. Grandpa refused to pay us, saying we hadn’t done a good enough job.

I never trusted him after that, and I can’t remember ever having a conversation with him. It’s possible he didn’t even know my name.

25

Did these two paragons ever party together? How did that go?

26

I never met my father’s father…but the man was a stinking son of a bitch, who abused my father. I could wish there were a hell, just for people like him.

(And his father was even worse!)

27

All I remember of my father’s step mother was being forced to remain on a small rug when I was a small child in her house.

Strangely wasn’t interested in visiting her after that.

28

I … don’t remember ever being kissed by any of my grandparents, even my grandfather who was the one I “clicked” best with. My grandmothers have begun to hug as a way of saying goodbye just in the last ten years, since everybody has begun doing it.

Or is that just how long I’ve been out of the dour Lutheran sphere of my youth?

29

It seems we all have lopsided grandparents for the most part.
My Paternal grandfather was a Polish Cavalryman who fought with the English in World War 2, from what I heard, Excellent Person, the best of the best! Moved to America, made a family, a business and did well, died in his early sixties before I was born though.

Paternal grandmother, mixed stories, generally good though, although when my father was dying (also young, 51) he told me he felt like she abandoned him and his brother.

Maternal Grandfather… Hah the real one? Decent man, no complaints, died young.

Maternal Grandmother… Old alcoholic whore, still alive and pushing 90, smoked and drank 8/9 days of her life. Treated my mother like shit, made her work to take her money to buy alcohol, beat her mercilessly, let her live on the street, until my Paternal grandfather (My Father’s Dad) took her in and raised her, even though she and my father were dating lol. I cannot stand this nasty old woman, she looks like a creature from planet of the apes and one that aged like milk, she is just as ugly on the outside as in.

(Side note. My mothers female siblings, the ones raised by my maternal grandmother, are notorious thieves, liars and scoundrels who only show up to funerals to see who left them money. The male siblings were smart, took off really young, still good men, they only talk to my mother because she has a heart and is a good woman.)

It’s amazing how one shitty person can completely sabotage a family. But we all have them! I’ve never met a person who had both excellent grandparents, It’s always one good and one bad, though. It’s nice to hear of that, I wish I had it or could have experienced it.

30

My maternal grandparents were both amazing human beings, probably the most giving, most moral people in my life. I often measure my behavior against their standard and find myself coming up short.

My paternal grandmother was one of the sweetest women I’ve ever known and unconditionally loved her family. My paternal grandfather…mean as the day is long. Not in a remotely funny way, while he was alive his principle endeavor was spreading misery and in his youth he was known for violence, uncontrollable rage and terrible mood swings.

He smoked himself to death (emphysema + leukemia) at 78 and literally spent his last days screaming profanities at his second wife from the hospital bed they rigged up in the living room of his house. Fortunately my grandmother had divorced him when my dad was still a boy. His second wife was a saint and endured his abuse without complaint.

At the end of the day, our grandparents are people just like us. They were born in a prior time, but people from that time, just like today, could be saints or monsters and everything in between.

31

My situation was a bit similar – I knew only my maternal grandmother: other grandparents died before I could have made their acquaintance. (And my grandmother was from north-west England, and definitely not racist – she held progressive views :slight_smile: .) She lived until I was eight. In the first years of my life, I saw little of her – we lived on opposite sides of the country – such meetings as we had, were pleasant enough. She then came to live with us for the last couple of years of her life, until she died in her early 70s.

She wasn’t horrible; it was just that at close quarters, she and I didn’t hit it off. She was the absolute reverse of a gooey-ly doting granny: she was a tough lady, formidably bright – a talented musician and linguist; politically left-leaning, unlike my parents; a no-nonsense character who had weathered an eventful and fairly hard life, including being widowed quite young. She found me (with some justification) a silly, timid, hypersensitive little wimp, and “rode” me unmercifully about those shortcomings – result being, that she scared the crap out of me. She and I must have had the occasional bit of pleasant mutual interaction; but such moments were, I’d reckon, few and far between.

32

My mother’s father, the child-rapist, lived an unjustified lengthy and secure life.

My father’s father, the man who reminds me of the father in “A Boy Named Sue,” only not nearly so nice or noble, was was cut short by murder - and the local law enforcement called it a ‘hunting accident*,’ then washed their hands of it - and him.

Both lived within 60 miles of each other, but to the best of my knowledge, never had a chance to directly interact; my father’s father being murdered when my father was still a child.
Probably for the best - The pair of them together would’ve likely caused the universe to divide by zero.

*shot in the back of the head with an unloaded gun.

33

I generally refer to my mother’s parents as “the Grandparents from Hell” in these boards.

Thankfully the paternal ones were human beings, I’m only about 50% demon.

I know that my Dad’s grandparents were all human. The Grandfather from Hell very much took after his mother; his father was an exceptionally good human being; any aspects in which GffH was slightly less bad than his mother are the product of his father’s hard work. The Grandmother from Hell had a very good mother and a father who didn’t make the best of husbands (too fond of spending the money his wife made on other women) but who was in many ways a better husband and father than most (for example, he insisted in teaching his then-bride to read, which she turned out to love, and later in sending all of their children to school and not just the boy as would have been the custom).

34

My Dad’s folks were old-school folks in a small Michigan city. She was a casual racist who had all sorts of convictions about how the world should work based on her own likes and dislikes. He was a morose, mostly silent, businessman. I don’t think I ever really had a conversation with him in my life. Neither was a monster but they certainly weren’t warm and fuzzy.
I have fond memories of going to their house for visits, but it isn’t because of them. They had cool toys from the 30s - 60s, some great old comics up in the attic that would probably be worth a fortune now. They also had boxes of magazines from pre-WWII that were fascinating to look through.

35

I had a brother-in-law go out in a very similar manner. He managed to “accidentally” shoot himself in the back. :rolleyes: Case closed. Nothing to see here.

36

There was a time when you could say of some folks “He needed killin’” and the law would nod, and walk away. My paternal grandfather was one of those. You BiL sounds the same.

37

When I read this thread and see the sadness and anger I feel bad for the people that didn’t have grandparents like mine.

Well, I never knew my paternal grandfather, he died when my dad was seven. My paternal grandmother wasn’t really warm, but she’d had a hard life. Her embroidery was expert, and she tried to teach me how. I wish I’d lived in the same town, so I could have seen her more often.

My maternal grandparents were the kind kids dream of having. They loved us, and we saw them a lot. If only I could go fishing one more time with them. Grandma taught me how to sew. They didn’t have a lot of money, so it wasn’t gifts and goodies we got, but they liked spending time with us. I still do have a fondness for Dr. Pepper, because my grandfather liked it. This was back when it came in glass bottles. We’d go over to their house and we girls would each get our own bottle, we didn’t have to share! It was a real treat as my folks didn’t keep a lot of pop in the house.

38

Wow, quite alot of different experiences.

Its sad when families have a situation where the grandparents are great people and want to share in their grandkids lives, yet sadly live far way. Or maybe they are still working and do not have the time or resources to do much.

Another difficult situation is when a family has to move in with grandparents and the grandparents are put into the role of being a parent.

Anyways thanks everyone for sharing.

39

My SO’s paternal grandfather was a mean drunk, that broke his son’s legs when he caught him sneaking out one night. It was bad enough that SO’s Dad enlisted in the Marine Corps with the express purpose of returning when trained to kill his Dad. He never got the chance, the Grandfather died, homeless and drunk when he passed out and cracked his head open on the City Hall building in downtown Winnipeg while he was away.

40

My maternal grandfather, with whom I got along fairly well, was very adamant about the career choices his children should make and when one of them defied him, it caused a major rift for over a decade. The interesting part of that story is that GrandDad wanted Uncle to stay at home and work on the family farm right after WWII while Uncle decided to take his GI Bill money and invest it in an engineering degree. Ironically, after the rift was healed, those grandparents wintered with that same uncle every year in southern California, close as could be.

All four of my grandparents had little formal education nor very much value of it. Two and even three or four generations later, the number of college degrees in my extended family is painfully low.

Would it be appropriate to discuss what kind of grandparents some of us are now or should another thread be opened?