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I was very young when my parents started telling me the stories about my grandparents' lives. Most were deceased or senile by the time I was coherant, except I did become quite close with my remaining grandmother when I was 20.
Both of my grandmothers were artists. They both worked at one point as colorists for their husbands, who were professional photographers. One of my grandmothers worked best in pastels, though she has few remaining masterpieces. The other's pallete was bright with oil paints- nature scenes and large renditions of hibiscus flowers. Even after years of art history and training - I still appreciate their work, though they were never featured in galleries or received any level of fame. I grew up in a home where their artwork covered the walls. I grew close to them through their art.
My grandfathers never fought in any wars. They were precisely the wrong generation. Thankfully. Though they worked as civilian support during WWII. My paternal grandmother was a true "Rosie the Riveter" - riveting airplanes for the war effort. We have a rather large professional group photo of the opposite grandparents (maternal grandmother, paternal grandfather) working at the same factory. They are on opposite ends of a huge group of workers, and it is likely that they never met. Still, it is a fun photo!
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"Sometimes I have to remember that things are brought to me for a reason, either for my own lessons or for the benefit of others." Cynthetiq
"violence is no more or less real than non-violence." roachboy
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