Essay about Being Raised by Grandparents
1644 Words7 Pages
He is the lightkeeper he keeps the light for me extra beams safety deposited inside a microfold somewhere somewhere hidden somewhere inside those pretty hands
--Finney, "The Lightkeeper"
Is Nikky Finney's poem "The Lightkeeper" about her dad or someone else? Many people have different opinions on who her poem is about, but when I read it, I imagine the lightkeeper to be my grandfather, even though my family is your basic "Cleaver" family. My parents are still happily married after their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. They both own their own successful businesses and have two children who are now in college. We also have the spoiled dog that everyone probably likes better than any other member of the family. Anyone observing…show more content…
Grandparents influence their grandchildren both directly, through face-to-face interaction, and indirectly, by providing emotional support (Doucette-Dudman 98). When a grandchild confronts a problem and knows that her grandparents are there to support her, she is indirectly influenced by their emotional support.
Grandparents also serve as role models to their grandchildren. A role is defined by the "set of expectations, rights, obligations, behaviors, and duties associated with a particular status position" (Newman 592). Grandparents have a variety of roles that they play in respect to their grandchildren. They are stress buffers, watchdogs, supporters, family historians, and much more. Children, often fearing punishment, do not want to go to their parents with their problems. Grandparents can indirectly teach children the lessons that they need to learn by joking and kidding with them, talking about growing up, giving advice, discussing problems, providing discipline, taking trips, teaching a skill or game, or talking about disagreements the child had with the parents (Doucette-Dudman 112). Parents seem to be more uptight with their children, perhaps because it is the first time they have ever had to be responsible for another human being’s life. On the other hand, grandparents have already been through parenthood, making them more confident, and therefore, more relaxed in their attitude towards raising children (Kornhaber
Childhood Memories of my Grandparents' Home Essay
520 Words3 Pages
When I think back to the days when I was a child, I think about all of my wonderful childhood memories. Often I wish to go back, back to that point in life when everything seemed simpler. Sometimes I think about it too much, knowing I cannot return. Yet there is still one place I can count on to take me back to that state of mind, my grandparent’s house and the land I love so much.
Their house was old. My grandparents lived in it most of their adult lives. It was white with black trimming, but most of the paint was chipped away. On the back porch was firewood all year long. No matter if it was winter; spring, summer, or fall the wood was always there. Red, yellow, purple flowers grew alongside the house all spring and summer.…show more content…
My grandparents owned 80 acres, and I would roam each and every inch. Running through the soaring weeds, and jumping over any log that would get in my path just to end up falling to the ground out of complete exhaustion.
There is something to be said about lying on one’s back in an open field hour upon hour staring up at a huge blue sky. With no one around and not another house for miles, it is a great place to be alone, to listen. In that field, I could pick up all the wonderful sounds of nature commonly misplaced by all the buzz of the city. The wind spoke as it blew across the land, whistling through the tall weeds and the colossal of trees. Crickets rub their wings composing a song for everyone to hear. I soaked in all the beauty of the surrounding landscape. There was towering groves of trees, creek beds lined with wildflowers producing delightful fragrances, and sunsets that would take your breath away. Still I walked cautiously, for all of lands beauty; trouble could still take form, whether it was running into a slithering snake or stumbling across a prickly thistle. The pond was one of my favorite places, for it was where I learned how to fish and skip rocks across the water. I would sit alongside the banks and listed to the familiar sound of the bullfrogs bellowing their presents. I think if the pond could tell a story it would be of the one that