Bringing Grandma Alma’s Memory Alive … For A Few Moments



George and Grandma Alma ‘sitting in their chairs where they sat for many years’…  This day



Bringing Grandma Alma’s Memory Alive … For A Few Moments



I didn’t get to know my Grandma Alma in the days that she walked. I was too little to remember.  


My only vague memory of her walking was outside in the backyard… I’m closing my eyes to try to remember.  It seemed like there was a little party for one of us grandchildren, or maybe she was pouring kool aid for us.  I just can’t remember anymore.


My next memory of her was of myself tipping-toeing into the front bedroom.  I remember everything was so ‘white’ in there.  A hospital bed was in there… on it lay my Grandma Alma.  I tried to peep up at her.


My next memory of her is sitting in her rocking chair, an upholstered recliner that rocked.  George’s wooden chair with a bottomed seat was sitting beside it.  For twenty-some years they sat side by side in those chairs.


George, my step-grandfather (the only grandfather I ever knew… the kindest man I ever knew until I met Skip)… was blind.  He could cook, wash clothes, hang them out onto the clothes line.  


Grandma Alma was very intelligent, even after her stroke.  When I was little I would think ‘school teacher‘… she tried to teach us grandchildren so much.  She tried to pass on her knowledge of things, games she played as a child.


Grandma Alma was paralyzed… one arm was useless, one leg dragged when she tried to walk with her walker.  George always walked beside her.


George always gave her range of motion exercises every morning, noon, and evening.  He never failed at doing that.  He would exercise her body, rub it with rubbing alcohol, then… lotion (Beauty Ray lotion).


If anyone could have made her walk again … it would have been George.  I never heard him complain, he did it with love.  George was a good man.  He loved Grandma Alma, he loved her grandchildren, and her 5 daughters.


My Grandma Alma would tell me to hide behind her chair if I ran to her.  She would protect me to the death, daring anyone ‘to put a finger on that child!’  


The sad thing is I never made it that far when I should have… how does a child know ‘bad’ things will happen out of the blue to them … when there are adults around… waiting for opportunities.  


It’s like a hawk swooping down to catch a rabbit before it knows what has happened.  The rabbit is just hopping along in its own world… not knowing ‘something wants to get it.’


Watch your little ones… even the ‘nicest, about something’ …person may be waiting for an opportunity.  Just because a person is ‘so and so, would never do such a thing’… yes, they will.  You hear about it all the time… only ‘it doesn’t happen to you’.  Yes, it does….


Grandma Alma never knew the times I cried, was afraid.  I never told her… I never thought to.  I fought to survive a mean world I’d been thrust into very young … I kept losing battles, but.. learned as I went.  I’ve always learned the hard way… when I did, I never forgot.  I never told on anybody… everybody else did.


Strangely enough, Grandma Alma was paralyzed… yet, she was the ‘strong one’… she was the nucleus everyone revolved around.  She was the matriarch.  


Maybe that was ‘why’ the center of the floor in the room she was trapped in all those years… became what I always called ‘the stage, the arena’… when I became old enough to think about it.


Everyone came to that invisible stage… always ‘in that center of the room’ to…. raise hell, to fight, cuss, knock each other around.  They would scream at whomever the dispute was with, then, scream at Grandma Alma to tell them this or that.  The next thing one knew, there would be a ‘helluva fight going on’.  


Poor George would try to feel around to break it up, Grandma Alma yelling at him ‘do something, George!’  He would get hit in the face, in the chest, or kicked.  


Once I saw something happen to George that broke my little girl heart.  I cried as I watched him get knocked down on the floor…. he landed on his back.  Bad things happened down at Grandma Alma and George’s…..  tears come to my eyes now, thinking about this.  I have to stop now….


Grandma Alma had twinkling, smiling blue eyes.  How I loved my Grandma Alma!  She would reach out with that one good arm to pull me to her, hug me.  I would feel safe when she did that…. I wasn’t safe for long… I couldn’t stay close to her all the time.  I didn’t try to… I was too curious to know what was around me.


Grandma Alma’s photo above is a treasure.  I’ve had it for years, how it survived the house fire, I don’t know.  I don’t think anyone else has a photo of her any younger than this one… if so, I would so much love to see it.


I wonder what kind of person she was at this age?  I look at the photo, I wonder.  I see a slight smile on her face… I wish I could see her with her hat off.  


Do you see me wondering about my Grandma Alma?  Just suppose, suppose for a moment … that I could go to a blog to read in her own words about her life?


Suppose I could see her favorite photos…  suppose I could read what makes her laugh, makes her cry.  I could learn what kind of person she was.  I can’t ever know what she was like as a young woman, I can’t even see photos of her at an younger age.


Do you see ‘why’ I blog, put my photos here, on Facebook?  So, one day my granddaughter, grandson can ‘know me through my words, my photos’.  So, they can read about me, their father who is my son.    


They can read about our Pups, learn we are dog-lovers, know Pa Skip through my blog.  Who knows, maybe one day it could be possible, I could write a book… I have a lot to write about.  My life has been very colorful.  For now, I’ll keep practicing writing….


Grandma Alma might not have have had a blog… that’s okay.  I’ve brought her back to life… through memories, and photos.  Everyone who loved her are thinking about her at this very moment.  She had a lot of grandchildren…… precious grandchildren whom she tried to protect.  Not in every case could she.


For a few moments, I brought Grandma Alma’s memory alive.  I hope my special photo of her surprises everyone to get a rare glimpse into the past … when she was young Grandma Alma.  :)))





18 thoughts on “Bringing Grandma Alma’s Memory Alive … For A Few Moments

  1. in your email you said we had more in common than i knew and after reading this i am in awe of just how much we have had in common. at the ver least you have learned how important it is to tell your story so future generations can know you.

    • We do have more in common than you know.. I just have to write again about it. It has to do with medical… when ‘it’s time for me to write it’… I will know, and feel it.

      I just get the panicky feeling sometimes, that if I don’t ‘put me, us, Tommy’ … somewhere … how can his children find us? How will they know we were real one time, we had feelings, we had thoughts, we loved them… in fact, you just gave me my idea for my story today, I will title it…. How Will They Know? You inspired that!

      I would like to give you the credit. Do like to be called Sandra, or something else? I would like to put your link there, too. Do you mind? I so, hope not. I think this special, as I was sitting here thinking of what can I write about today. Love, Gloria

  2. So beautiful and so sad hun.

    You know what I went through as a child, but not everything.

    I survived decades of my fathers sadistic abuse by promising myself that when I reached 25 I would take my life and the pain would stop.

    I was saved by a good friend and have recovered since – that was until I got a new neighbour with a VERY sick mind who was intent on selling me to whoever would pay him.

    Sixteen years ago I was investigated and cleared by the Police of committing any offence despite being accused of every crime Bob and the investigative journalists could think of, but then they were desperate to ‘fit up’ their victim rather than accept that they were wrong.

    When the News of the World was forced to close I got very, very drunk.

    Once they knew of my childhood, they had no interest in the violence and terror, only the fact I was raped at the age of eleven and for that I was driven to insanity and attempted suicide because I could only live with it by locking it away.

    For that I was driven insane and persecuted and victimised for two and a half years until my water supply was poisoned to force me to go to hospital so I could be physically examined for my injuries by a doctor who then passed the information on without my informed consent because my step-father (A retired Police Officer who never retired) acted as my next of kin even though he wasn’t: My mother was.

    Over the past sixteen years I have been set up repeatedly in their efforts to prove me to be a monster and failed every time.

    Next week my God daughter Becky and her older sister Emily (both of whom I looked after from birth) will be coming up to visit me once they are clear of the Norovirus which has infected them and their families.

    Girls I was accused of abusing because I was helping them with their homework by my neighbour who had wired my home with microphones to monitor my life in an effort to find ANYTHING I could be sold for as he was a paid informer, bully, thug and all around asshole.

    He even attacked me in my home and beat me bloody while my so-called friend Darren sat on the couch with his fingers jammed in his ears, his eyes tight shut, and afterwards swore he had seen and heard nothing.

    Darren is a coward who now boasts of being a gangster and has taken the side of my tormentors.

    I have no friends left who have not taken part in one way or another, but I DO possess a Criminal Records Bureau Advanced Certificate which shows my pristine criminal record DESPITE everything they did to me.

    My tormentors finally quit in October, sixteen years after the nightmare began, the message carried by Darren.

    Now I can start rebuilding my life safe in the knowledge that I am loved by the many who I looked after, but unable to father a family and clinically insane.

    I guess being the adopted uncle of my God daughter’s family is as close as I will ever get to having kids of my own.

    Sometimes the love of those who know us best is the only reward we shall ever have in this world.

    Love and hugs!


    • Oh, Prenin… you just don’t know how my heart is touched by just the words I have read… I know… like in my life… one won’t always be able to ‘tell everything… the worst part’.

      I know that worse probably happened that you might not remember well, or can’t bear to speak of. I know, because I just ‘know’ this…

      I’m so glad you are my friend. I treasure our friendship. I’m always looking for you ‘here’, Prenin. So, just add me right along with your other loved ones… you have won my heart, too. Love, Gloria/Granny Gee :)))

      • Thanks hun! 🙂

        It’s finally over, but it still hurts and always will.

        That ALL my friends were bought for £2,000 a head and most of my persecutors were criminals desperate to make money from the media didn’t make it any better.

        Thank God the Police finally cleared me, but the media went on at me for sixteen years for the sake of a story.

        A story they had no right to know and, in the end, one which showed just how evil they truly are.

        So far as I can gather I was accused of being a drug addict (at that time the most I took was paracetamol).

        Then when my neighbour collapsed with a stroke and I broke his door down because the Police officer who was present ‘didn’t want to damage the door’ I was accused of being a burglar.

        Then, because Becky and Emily were coming up to do their homework, I was accused of being a paedophile.

        Then when that fell through the media tried to tie me to four child murders in Denmark because I visited the country one Christmas and my g/f’s family.

        After that they tried to tie me to pornography made by a Scotsman because I once told a joke in a Scottish accent.

        When that fell through they got into my childhood trauma and the rest you know.

        I don’t have to tell you that my father has threatened to kill me on sight because I told some of what he did to us as kids – and that was traumatic enough!

        Today I am recovering and next week Becky and Emily will be visiting so I’m looking forward to that! 🙂

        The other good news is that my first book has been published by Red at so I await my father’s response with interest given that he forced me to burn my first manuscript a page at a time before destroying my typewriter when I was fourteen to impress on me what utter crap it was even though he hadn’t actually read it…

        To give you some idea of the contempt he held for his children he declared me to be ‘mentally subnormal’ in his divorce deposition…

        A charming chap I think you’ll agree! 🙂

        Now we have started a New Year and I can now look forward and not back.

        Isn’t life wonderful???

        Love and hugs always my sweet friend! 🙂


      • Oh, Prenin, congratulations! I am so happy something nice has happened. How special to have your first book published! I hope to do that one day, at least one book for my grandchildren. :)))

        You have been through so much more than anyone I know, including me. I’m so amazed.

        I’m glad you have Becky and Emily! Love, Granny Gee/Gloria :)))

      • Hi Gloria! 🙂

        The book can be found at Just click on the picture with a person holding a book to get to the book store!

        Mum is telling the family so that they can ALL buy a copy and I plan to buy eight for my ‘adoptive’ family and friends.

        I told Pat and Rachel (I looked after her from the age of seven) so the news is now spreading fast! 🙂

        I cannot help but wonder where it will lead as I have two more to prepare for publication! 🙂

        Even if I should die tomorrow I will have achieved something my father went to such great lengths to prevent.

        I bet when he finds out he’ll be chewing steel and spitting rivets! 🙂

        Love and hugs always!


      • I’m so glad you had the courage to go forward, not let him keep you back. Your book could very well help someone else one day…. probably when you were younger he recognized talent, intelligence … may have felt jealousy. Adults can ‘see’… it’s sad because he could have been a part now… of your life, love, success. I love it! I love ‘when someone has been on the bottom …rises up above.’ It makes me feel so happy inside… they ‘win’…. Never stop, Prenin, never. Love, Gloria/Granny Gee :)))

      • Hi hun! 🙂

        I tried the link and it goes to the right page.

        You need to click on the person holding a book to get to the book store page, but in case you can’t I’ve copied the address:

        From what I can see they are all ebooks, including ‘Songs of Angels’, my second book (I never expected to see BOTH out so soon!), but one is an epub file, so I guess that will read on your laptop! 🙂

        I was expecting them to include a paperback version, so I guess they’ll come later! 🙂

        I don’t have a Kindle either… 😦

        Love and hugs!


      • This is such a touching story. I think you are doing a wonderful thing by blogging your history for your grandchild.

      • Prenin, would you copy the link on the page your book is on… I can’t see it when I click on this link… I really want your book, too. I would treasure it. I know your Mum is so proud of her son, Prenin. Love, Gloria/Granny Gee :)))

      • Prenin, I would like to read your book … would you tell me title and how to get it. I looked on Red’s website, didn’t see
        it. I don’t know what I’m looking for. :))))))) I thought I would know when I saw it, ha! :))) Gloria

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