YES!
Both Granny (great-grandmother) & Ganpa (likewise).
We shared a two-flat home with them & my Mother’s parents (my Grandparents).
Ganpa was a Norweigan/Swedish immigrant, Granny was from Poland.
Both were wonderful & kind. My greatest treat was to go downstairs, sit with them in the kitchen, & sip coffee out of a saucer. I was 4 or 5.
Grossmom - her choice of name - lived until I was 14. She was my mother’s maternal grandmother. She lived to see her first great-great-grandchild, my older brother’s first son.
Granted, the last couple of years she was sort of in-and-out, mentally, but I do have many memories of her, both from good days during that time and from the years before. She was a German immigrant who never quite got the hang of v’s and w’s and still wrote with a spidery Altschrift handwriting that only four people in the Western Hemisphere could read. She was very strict with everyone else, but for some reason I was her pet, and I loved visiting her.
My mother’s mother, Granny, died just a few years ago. Unfortunately, we lived half way across the country for most of my childhood, so I never really knew her, as much as I knew of her.
Mamaw, my father’s grandmother died about eleven years ago. We were quite close and our birthdays were January 5 (hers) and January 6 (mine). For years, we shared birthday cakes. Every year, she would can foods, and I loved her dill pickles. Holidays were spent at her house and she always made the best yeast dinner rolls I’ve ever tasted in my life. We would frequently visit her house, as she lived only about 5 minutes drive, and one of my favorite memories was sitting under her two large pecan trees in her back yard, at the height of summer in the Oklahoma heat (she didn’t have air conditioning), shelling pecans. For a long time, before her husband, Papaw (my great-grandfather) died, they had a garden and orchard that ran along side of their house, and I remember picking greenbeans and corn and tomatoes in the hot sun, and fighting the wasps that used to come for the fallen pears and apples. I remember the way she smelled and, if I try real hard, the sound of her voice. For awhile, when the Hallgirls were little, we rented the house Papaw had built. That was after her health was failing and she went to live with my (great) Aunt Sue. Hallboy was born in that house, but shortly thereafter, she died and the family sold it. She did live long enough to see him born, and I’ve got pictures of her holding her great-great grandson and both of her great-great grand daughters.
When she died, it was the end of July, which in Oklahoma is hot, hot, hot. During her funeral, there was a terrible thunderstorm which rolled through Tulsa. The thunder rattled the church windows and the rain beating down on the roof sounded as if it would come through at any minute. By the time the service was over, it had all passed. The drive to the cemetary was eerie…clear skies, streets still wet with rain, and the darkness in the distance of the moving storm.
My great-grandmother on my father’s side (my father’s mother’s mother) lived to be 100 years and 30 days, so I knew her well into my 20’s. She was she was in remarkably good shape at 98. I used to tell my grandfather he was the only 75 year-old man I knew whose mother-in-law still came for a visit!
My paternal great grandfather lived until I was three or so- I do not remember him. None of my other great grandfather’s were alive when I was born but I had three great-grandmothers still alive. My G-Grandma Grace died when I was about 14, she used to babysit us in the summer and make us pick our own “switch” if we were bad (I think my cousin got that more than I ever did 
). My G-Grandma McCoy remarried and lived on a cattle ranch, I only got to visit her twice in Washington, she died I think when I was about 12 or so. My G-Grandma Angell I only met twice, also on our trips to Washington. She was born in Salisbury, England and was a librarian. I recently found a obscure quote from her on a book about the building of Grand Coulee Dam- my G.Grandfather was one of the workers- describing the conditions there.
I had the opportunity to know one set of my great-grandparents, my father’s mother’s parents. I don’t remember how old I was exactly when my great-grandma died, but I remember going to visit her at the nursing home when I was a child. I have more memories of my great-grandpa, who lived to be 96. He lived in his own assisted living apartment and drove his own car almost until the end. We went to visit him often and took him out to eat. He was 100% Norwegian (both he and his wife were), and he would call my sister’s small, white dog “little sheep” in Norwegian. I have many other fond memories of him as well.
I knew both of my father’s grandmothers. One died at 88 when I was about 12, the other at 102 when I was well into my 20’s and had a kid of my own. She was still a baby, but I guess my daughter has met her great-great grandmother.
I met a step-great-grandma when I was an infant. She was my maternal grandfather’s stepmother; she died about a year after I was born. There are pictures of me on her lap.
Never met any of my blood greats; most of them would have been in their 80s or 90s (and two of 'em would have been over 100) when I was born. The only one I would have had a chance of meeting and really knowing would have been my maternal grandmother’s mother, who was born in 1896 but died ten years before I was born from complications of previously undetected diabetes. I often wonder how long she would have been around if they’d caught it and treated it.
I’m a genealogist, so needless to say I have pictures of all of them and stories as well.
Yes, I knew my maternal great-grandparents quite well. I would visit them often after they moved to Florida, and Gram always had the best candy for me.
I helped take care of her and Pépère while they were both in the hospital shortly before they died (a few months apart).
I also knew my great-great-grandmother, Mémère . She died when I was 14 at the ripe age of 96.
I grew up knowing one great-grandmother. She was quite spry right up to the end, she died when I was 13.
Even though she was mentally with it, her English wasn’t that great. We spent time with her every other week or so, and nearly all my interactions with her involved her telling me to put on a sweater, then some brief instructions in a language I didn’t understand, then she would make me a ham sandwich and later slip me five bucks and tell me “Don’t tell your father,” to which I said “thanks, Gram!”
Even though I know I’m fortunate to have had any relationship at all with a great-grandparent, in my mind I always wonder if we could have had more, you know, substantive conversations had I been a little older.
The only great grandparent still alive when I was young was my mom’s paternal grandmother, Josephine.
I remember going to the farmhouse set in what was, by then, a wealthy suburb of the cities. It was a very simple house, scratched wooden floor covered in hand tied rag rugs, wallpaper that my mom had remembered from when she was little, the smell of Ivory soap, and the clink clink sound of the space heater in the living room - the only source of heat in the house.
Grandmother Josephine had a passing knowledge of English, but primarily spoke Czech. Her youngest daughter, Libbie, was the translator. As was the ‘norm’, Libbie was expected to stay on the farm and take care of her parents. She was the shopper, bill payor, tie to the rest of the world.
I remember sitting on the floor in front of Grandmother, who had her rocking chair alongside the heater. She would ask questions in halting English, I would answer but then Libbie would have to translate.
When I was 8 she was moved into a nursing home due to Libbie being unable to take care of her longer - she was elderly by that point too. We went to the home every weekend, brought cookies and such. Towards the end she spoke only Czech, so communication was almost impossible. I remember sitting beside her - she would stroke my hand for as long as I could handle it, murmurring “pretty girl”.
She passed at 95 when I was 11.
My grandnieces spend more time with my mom (their greatgrandmom) than they do with their parents. One of them (aged 5) still cannot quite figure out family ties.
Me: She’s MY mom
J: No, she’s my gwamma!
Me: She’s your great gwamma
J: I KNOW she’s great, and she’s MY gwamma!
Me: She’s MY mom and YOUR greatgwamma
J: I can’t talk to you!
Hell, I only met one of my grandparents, and he died when I was 8. 
I didn’t know most of my great grandparents, they died before I was born (one just a month before), but I do my Dad’s Grandma.
She’ll be 100 next September, and though her mind wanders now and she’s in a wheelchair she’s still a lovely lady.
When she still lived at home we would go for a visit, my brother and I would sneak candies from the dish on her coffee table and she had toys she would pull out for us to play with while the adults talked. Then she would make coffee and pull donuts she had made from the freezer to roll in sugar and warm in the oven.
I don’t see her often, she lives in a nursing home now, in another city, and when I go up there she can’t come visit at family because of the wheelchair (everyone has stairs…) so we try and go to her. Earlier this year she also met her first great-great-grandchild, my son, and I have pictures of it. She seems a lot smaller now than I remember, then again I’m also much bigger (the tallest girl in the family).
All I really know of her is that she came from Germany to Canada when she was a little girl… sometime around the first world war (I think maybe just before). My great-grandfather came from Prussia, sometime after the first world war I think. I’d like to know more, but my Dad’s side isn’t big on geneology and my Mom’s side… well, we have a family tree back to 1801 but I don’t know any stories.
I met two of my great-grandmothers. One lived in California (I’m in WV), so I only met her once, but it was at my 5th birthday party! My Meemaw lived a few hours from us, so we used to go see her once or twice a year. I know a lot of stories about most of my great-grandparents, because most of my grandparents and parents love to tell family stories.
When my daughter was born, 7 of her great-grandparents were still living. I thought that was pretty cool, especially since I waited until I was 29 to have her (not all that old, but every year makes it easier to lose them). We’ve got at least one picture with each of them, but she’s lost 3 now. It’s kind of scary, because she’s only 3, so sometimes I can’t help wondering who she will lose this year. She’s really close to my Granny (the only one I have left), and one set of my husband’s grandparents. His grandparents have lots and lots of family parties, though they are now old enough that their kids are doing all the work, so my Anneliese has lots of time with them. The other great-grandma she’s barely ever seen, which is kind of sad, since she lives here in town.
Oh, just thought of something. My mom’s great-grandparents were immigrants from Denmark to Colorado (and later California). I have a lot of pictures of that family, as well as copies of their immigration papers and such. Those are always neat to sift through.
The only one of my great-grandparents I ever met was my mother’s (maternal) grandmother.
(I have to admit, I’m trying to work out what kind of messed-up degenerate family tree would produce the concept of “either of” your great-grandparents.)
They all passed before I was born. I know a little about my maternal grandmother’s mom. I would love to have met her, by all accounts an incredible lady. I know a quite a bit less about my maternal grandfather’s parents, although I resemble his mother a little. I got her eyebrows and dimples, and chesty region. Thanks G-Grandma Bess!
All mine died before I was born. My maternal grandfather (and an uncle) were also gone.
My daughter met both her great grandmothers. One she was too young to remember, but she does recall my maternal grandmother, who died when my daughter was 12.
I only knew one of my great grandparents; my “Grandma Mary”, who was my mother’s mother’s mother. (Now does she look like a typical great grandmother, or what?)
I researched some of my family history on my mother’s side about 15 years ago, and at the time came up with this family tree (which is in desperate need of an update - my own husband’s not even on it!). I wrote a small bit of our family history here (forgive all the colors – this was early '90s web design ;)), and included some newspaper articles from the time of my great grandmother’s brother’s death (my great great uncle). Sadly, I never got to meet him, but he did leave a great legacy.
Yes. My mom’s Grandmother. She lived to be 97. I remember riding in her car, which was unsettling because she only had two gears: Full Speed Ahead and Dead Stop.
She got me the same coloring book 5 years in a row, but she would also make me a whole jar of Mint Cherries. She slept with her eyes open. She did this outside at a reunion a long time ago, and us kids were afraid to touch her.
“You wake her up.”
“No, YOU wake her up.”
“MOMMMMMMM!!! Granny’s Mom is dead again!”
My mom’s mom’s mom outlived her daughter. My maternal grandmother died when I was five. My great-grandmother Lulu died a few years later, but I, sadly, don’t really remember either one very much.
