Oh, and Another Thing...
Another thing that I am extremely grateful for, at this age and stage in my life, are my grandparents. Quite simply, I'm lucky to have them. Unfortunately, my mom's mom and my dad's dad passed away from different illnesses only a few years apart from each other when I was in elementary school. I do have fond, positive memories with both of them, and pictures to last a lifetime as well. But the years that followed are the ones that are fuzzy. Being a defiant pre-teen and eventually a moody teenager, I don't really recall ever being excited to spend time with my grandparents. They were at all the important celebrations and holidays, so I would talk and visit with them then. It kept me happy and we kept in touch. Then college came, and time with grandparents while I was home on breaks meant time away from my friends who were also home on break. I managed to see them for the holidays, and they did always bring that comforting smile of home back to my face. But I must admit, it's only been for the last few years, that I came to adore my Grandpa and my Oma. I look forward to spending a few hours here and there with them, I want to take pictures with them, learn how to cook from them, spend their birthdays with them, listen to stories from them, and spend quality time with them.
My grandparents are old. When you become old there's that constant fear and wonder if they'll be around for the next celebration. Luckily, and bless him, my grandfather just turned 93 two days ago. He's still mobile, lives on his own, and still travels to Florida like the snow bird he is. He and his wife keep themselves young. This past weekend I had such a special day with my grandpa, in a place that will forever remind me of him. He is an avid Yale football fan, as he was the team photographer for about 40 years, snapping black and white photos of hundreds of football games and making good friends along the way. At 93, nothing has stopped him from attending every home game. Last weekend was the 130th meeting of Yale and Harvard for the big rival, simply dubbed "The Game." I asked my grandpa Sabby if he was going, and he immediately offered me two tickets. I was excited to go and watch some classic, Ivy League football. When I got there I kept an eye out for my grandpa. I soon spotted him right on the field, in the same Yale button up jacket I've seen him wear all my life, with a Yale winter hat on his head and two giant cameras around his neck. Some things never change. I got the chance to visit with him on the field for a little while; he of course snapped some pictures of me while I was on the sideline. (Some of my favorite memories growing up were with my sister watching the bulldog on the sideline while he took pictures.) We talked for a bit, then I went back to the stands and let him do his thing. Even though Yale got their butt kicked, he stayed until time expired, chatting with friends old and new along the way. I went down to say bye to him one more time and snap a picture of my own. I knew this was one of those special, irreplaceable memories that I was going to hold on to.
My grandparents are old. When you become old there's that constant fear and wonder if they'll be around for the next celebration. Luckily, and bless him, my grandfather just turned 93 two days ago. He's still mobile, lives on his own, and still travels to Florida like the snow bird he is. He and his wife keep themselves young. This past weekend I had such a special day with my grandpa, in a place that will forever remind me of him. He is an avid Yale football fan, as he was the team photographer for about 40 years, snapping black and white photos of hundreds of football games and making good friends along the way. At 93, nothing has stopped him from attending every home game. Last weekend was the 130th meeting of Yale and Harvard for the big rival, simply dubbed "The Game." I asked my grandpa Sabby if he was going, and he immediately offered me two tickets. I was excited to go and watch some classic, Ivy League football. When I got there I kept an eye out for my grandpa. I soon spotted him right on the field, in the same Yale button up jacket I've seen him wear all my life, with a Yale winter hat on his head and two giant cameras around his neck. Some things never change. I got the chance to visit with him on the field for a little while; he of course snapped some pictures of me while I was on the sideline. (Some of my favorite memories growing up were with my sister watching the bulldog on the sideline while he took pictures.) We talked for a bit, then I went back to the stands and let him do his thing. Even though Yale got their butt kicked, he stayed until time expired, chatting with friends old and new along the way. I went down to say bye to him one more time and snap a picture of my own. I knew this was one of those special, irreplaceable memories that I was going to hold on to.
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| November 23, 2013 |
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