I think of my childhood and it is filled with images of picking blackberries with Grandma, playing catch with Grandpa. I was never a visitor, I felt that their home was my home. This is what we want for our grandchildren. Our home, our land, our love is theirs and the wonderful thing is – they are ready to give their love in return!

In the Lakota Indian society the grandparent/grandchild relationship is entwined in family connections that confuse the non-Indian. The grandparent’s brother or sister is called a grandparent, rather than an aunt or uncle and it is recognized that these additional grandparents possess levels of experience that provide the child with the appropriate options to grow strong and make good decisions. It also provides multiple sets of eyes to discipline and lead the child. While this system may have been damaged by the artificial pressures of the reservation, it is not a concept that is completely loss. My Ojibwe aunts and uncles on the Lac Court O’Reilles reservation in Wisconsin were always welcoming and I was never uncomfortable on any of my childhood visits because I knew I was accepted.

Kate Crowley

Most of us, if we’re lucky, have known our grandparents. We are even luckier if those grandparents lived nearby and enriched our lives by their interest and enthusiastic involvement in our lives. Older grandparents and those of the generation who are just now becoming grandparents are the last generation where a majority us can remember a time when grandparents lived on farms or in small towns. We can recall the easy, simple times spent with these adults who indulged us and shared their memories of a time that today seems as remote and as removed as the Middle Ages. Since we carry those memories and experiences with us, we have the opportunity to share them with a generation being born into a century with untold opportunities and unfortunately, too many dangers.

As we age, we reflect on our childhoods and even though the mists of time tend to spray a cloud of gold over those days, we know that in those simpler days of our lives, there were experiences that gave us great pleasure and cemented the bonds with the elders who shared themselves with us.

By the time I was born, I only had two living grandmothers. One lived in California and I have very fuzzy memories of her. She only visited us a handful of times and I really don’t recall her as being particularly warm or even interested in interacting with me or my siblings. My other grandmother lived just a block away from our house and though her Germanic heritage didn’t incline her towards a warm, cuddly exterior, I had over 20 years of close acquaintance with her. I even lived with her for four years during and after high school. She was working woman into her 80’s - ironing clothes for people and caring for one or two elderly people (often younger than her) in her home, so she didn’t have the time or personality to get down on the floor and play with us. But her house was always open and we wore a path through our neighbor’s backyards to get there. She had a few old toys and books for us to play with and a big old piano to make noise on, but mostly we came over to visit and if we were lucky, on a hot summer day, she’d make us a root beer float.

A Sunday ritual for the first 16 years of my life was dinner at “Ma’s”, as we called her. Roast chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, cooked corn, cabbage salad, and either apple or custard pie. I only have to think about it and I’m coming through her front door into a room moist with the steam of cooked vegetables and an aroma that fills me with contentment.

This is what I propose about our most firmly held memories of time with our grandparents. They are tied to our senses. – all of which are much keener as children – smell, sight, sound, touch, and taste – these are the things that will stay with a child as they grow to adulthood and recall time with their grandparents. That and laughter.