Home Forums Hunting & Shooting Hunter's Campfire Tough Grandmothers

My Grandma was born 1920 in Deuel Co, SD and passed away in 2018 in Deuel Co, SD. We spent alot of time together, I had lunch with her and my Grandpa 3-4 days a week. She taught me lessons which serve every day. She never talked about what she'd done. She always talked about what she was going to do. She did her thinking in the future, her thoughts were always there. Which made her tough to beat at cards.

Some of her best aphorisms:

"Boys, do something, even if it's wrong."
"A couple of weeks of twenty below keeps the riff raff out."
"Educated and smart are two very different things."

Daisy chained one of grams salem 100,s with 4 of those ciggerette loads when I was 7 or 8.
Ripple fire when they touch off.


Lucky it didnt cause her to stroke out I geuss.

Got my azz lit the fugg up from dad on that one.
Had to get his drunk azz up off his chair from a Red Sox game to do something, that is probably what ticked him off more....

Totally worth it for me!!!


Glad I never got caught backing up 5 and launching her nasty miniature poodle " Petu" thru the make pretend uprights.

Never messed with the Morrison side of the family grandparents or any relatives along that line.

But the french fugg side of the family it was game on like donkey kong with those tards.
Respect didnt apply to them in my mind.
And they all knew it too.
👍👍👍😄😄😄

Lmfao

We did that to Uncle Harold one night while he was high as fook

We put a “lady finger” in his Benson Hedges

🤣🤣🤣🥴🥴🤣🤣

“End over end through those righteous uprights”

That is so funny! I swear those “kick me” dogs were made perfect for a good punt. Their legs just long enough to get you foot under them for a perfect lift off.

My grandma was a hoarder. After she died they found all manner of things she bought and hid "for a rainy day" She'd have tattered sheets on the bed but new ones in the closet. $100 here and there in books and shoes. Came from a time when you prepared for hard times because they always came, at some point. Died at 71.

Pro tip: ya gotta wrap electrical around their snouts so grandma can’t hear em squeal

Jackpot at my grandma’s place after she passed.

Not any cash stashed in Bibles

But Darvocets and Oxycodone out that wazoo. Dozens and dozens of filled scripts never opened.

My maternal grandmother is the only one I knew. She died in the 60's. She was a tough old bird who took things into her own hands. One time she had a small table that she thought would work well along a wall there there wasn't room for it. She sawed it in half and just nailed one side to the wall. It didn't look nearly as good as it sounds but it was there for many years. Grandpa sure wasn't going to contradict her. Someone told her one time that a little pinch of salt in a pot of coffee would make it less bitter. To her, a pinch was as good as a tablespoon and from that day on, her coffee was salty. Then she got some instant coffee and perked it. Perked salty instant coffee isn't something you'll ever drink more than once.
I could go on but you get the point.

I hated that little stained mouth hair and eye gland stained " dog".
Snappy little cantankerous fuugga.
Figured out I needed to show him I had the upper hand on him.
Shock and awe and fear outta the blue is what worked with "Petu"...

More of a lift and fling the fuuuck outta him than an actual nail him thru the uprights kick.
Little fugga learned after about 2 or 3 times to maintain some situational awareness around me and go hang out by gram while I was around.
Go to your safe space "Petu" like you been "taught".

🤣🤣🤣

Lol !!!

You snapping your gramps dog nut sack with a rubber band while he was sleeping story.


Whats the matter boy???
You have a bad dream???

🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

[quote=Osky]My grandmother was born in the late 1880’s on the prairie in a sod cabin. Chuck Norris has nothing on her.

Osky[/quote


That’s funny! We just looked at a picture of my Grandma in front of a soddie in Nebraska about the same time frame!

This tough old bastard was my grandfather. Born in Oklahoma in 1872, fought in the Spanish American War.

Later in life, after having a family and being abusive when he got drunk, he met the bottom end of a cast iron skillet wielded by my grandmother who was hiding behind the door. My aunt told me of the beating, although it didn't cure his alcoholism, it made him more conscious of how he treated my grandmother...

Funny without the dog too.

Did not get much time with either of my Grandmothers but have fond memories of both. Loving to hear about the wonderful women in everyone's life.

My Grandmom was born in a tent in SWOK in 1934. They lived in that tent until she was two. Her parents were migrant labor, chopping and picking cotton in season And returning home for the winter where Gramps would work odd jobs. She hated the transient lifestyle, living in a tent in west Texas doing day labor and wanted more for herself. She made a deal with her parents to stay home and keep house for an old couple, pick up the breakfast shift at the diner, and work the evening shift at the soda fountain in the drug store so she could stay and finish school. They agreed as long as they got the money when they returned. She was the first person in the family to graduate high school in the class of 1951.

She was the most vibrant, kind, loving woman I ever had the pleasure of meeting. She never had to touch a hair on my head to discipline me, I’d have never dared do anything to upset her. Sadly we said goodbye to her last month when she was 88. They don’t make them like her anymore

Yes, Gramma was a saint, but tough as nails.

At 80 years she was still irrigating all day with Granddad. Raising a 4000 sq ft garden. Canning that produce and the fruit from the peach, nectarine, plum, cherry, apricot, and apple trees in the back yard. Then there was milking chores. Half a dozen Guernsey cows every night and morning.

They no longer sold milk at that time. Instead they bought baby calves to raise and sell.

Gramma always baked one day per week. About a dozen loaves of bread, plus sweet rolls, and there was always a yellow cake with chocolate frosting on the counter.

Grandkids were welcome to all the fresh homemade bread with fresh squeezed butter they could eat, with a glass of fresh cold milk from the fridge. Usually followed by the aforementioned cake.

And there was the nightly Bible reading. Gramma never went to bed untill she had read a few verses. She was one of the most deeply devout Christians I have ever met. Her honor of the Sabbath was iron clad.

Her biggest disappointment in life was when macular degeneration took her vision in her mid eighties. She could no longer read her precious Bible. The family bought her the Bible on Cassette Tapes. But it was not the same for her.

The grandfolks lived in a modest two bedroom with one bath. There was almost always a down on their luck guest in the back bedroom.

Usually a single mother struggling to raise two or three kids. The Grandfolks did not have much except plenty of food and a warm place to sleep. But they shared it generously.

She was a tiny lady. Petite at possibly 5' 2". She raised six kids and suffered six miscarriages between. I never heard a one of 24 grandkids say one word crosswise to Grandma.

If Grandma had not knocked them on their ass, they would have had to face Grandpa, then their parents, and uncles and aunts, and finally all those cousins.

Mostly we all loved the dear lady too much for a cross word to even come to mind.

RIP my dearest Grandma, 1902-1995.

My paternal Grandmother was five foot nothing and weighed maybe 110. She was a saint when it came to most things but she did have a temper. When she was in high school, an older boy was beating up her brother. She jumped in the middle of it and was getting the better of him when he jumped up and ran home. She was hot on his heels when he ran into his house. She went in after him and finished the job there. Her parents were French and Irish from Quebec. The running joke was most days she was of Canadian descent, but on the rare occasion she was French, best head for the hills! She had a head full of jet black curly hair that stayed that way her whole life. Even in her 80's she had almost no grey in it.

My father was the oldest, as am I, and as the only grandson for fifteen years, I could do no wrong! My grandparents still had the family farm when I was in my teens. Grandpa was a professor so he had summer time off so I was loaned out to them to help with the farming. They had several acres under irrigation and it was my job to help with the water shares and all else farming. That was a good time, spending summers in a small town, taking a mid-day nap under the shade tree in the front yard, driving the trucks, shooting jackrabbits, helping around the place, and grandma's cooking! They had an old coal-fired furnace so Grandpa would hitch up his old dually trailer and we would head to Salina or Price, UT to get several loads to fill the coal bin in the basement; enough for winter time. That job wasn't as much fun; shoveling out several tons of coal from the trailer into the coal chute was a lot of work.

In the fall, there was always the harvest and lots and lots of bottling to do. That was an entire family affair with kids and adults pitching in to get everything picked, and bottled. My dad and his brothers and the rest all would pitch in and be rewarded with boxes and boxes of bottled fruits and vegetables; usually enough to last the next nine months. As they got into their late 70's the farm lot was sold as they couldn't keep up with it anymore and instead just kept a smaller garden at their house. Families grew and started careers of their own. Both grandma and grandpa were interested in family history and turned their remaining time to that in the years remaining to them. I sure miss those care-free days of summer and am grateful I was taught to work hard.

One of my earliest memories is of her singing in the church choir. She had a wonderful voice and us kids were almost memorized by her as she went about her daily work, singing and humming the entire time. She passed on to her eternal reward in 2005.

Hadn't thought about it until I read about a few other grandmothers on here, but my grandmother was a smoker too. She had two packs open at a time, one of Lucky Strikes (the original, short, unfiltered kind) and one of Kools (also short, unfiltered which I'd never heard of prior to seeing hers.) Probably why she only made it to 95.

My paternal grandmother was also a tough one. She told her husband, my grandfather, she didn't intend to see her boys grow up to be coal miners like he was. He agreed and they left Arkansas for Texas.

They lived in several small towns. In one of them rental houses were hard to come by. One landlord told her that no children were allowed. She told him to hold the house for her while she went down to the river to drown her three boys..... he rented her the place.

After several moves, they had settled in Jones County. When my grandfather got restless and ready to move on, she told him that she and the boys were through moving and he could come home for holidays if he wanted. He stayed.

After I married we were visiting with them after I got out of the Army. They asked our plans. I told them we were going to ramble for a while before settling down. She turned to my wife, looked her dead in the eye and said "I'd squash that!"

Another story about my grandmother:

When my mother and uncle were kids, my grandpaw was workin in the field. A stray dog came up and growled at my mother and uncle. Grandmaw took a hammer out there and beat the dog to death. Man she was tough!