Originally Posted by
stealthyburrito
Undies, let me unsheath stealthy for a minute. Care to let me share a life story? It's long, and I'm buzzed so what the hey.
Let's rewind time, back to 1948, my grandmother and grandfather immigrated to America (Chicago to be exact) illegally and legally on a work ****, respectively. My grandma worked in an oscar Meyers factory, my grandpa at northwestern university as a groundskeeper. Eventually, a few years before my mother's birth, they both became naturalized citizens. My grandma learned the language quite fluently, more surprising, my grandpa did not despite having more interaction with English speakers. Anyway, they succeeded enough to allow my mom to get into DePaul. Unfortunately, prior to her senior year, she got pregnant with my brother and married his father and dropped out. She and her father were determined to provide for him. However, father was a raging alcoholic so they made their way VA way on the recommendation of a family friend, grandparents in tow. My grandma became a cashier and grandpa a janitor at the local public schools to help support my mom. After I was born in '89, she decided she wanted to finish up her bachelors, which she did, but decided to go even further for her masters degree.
It was prolly '97 by this point and we were dirt ass poor. 3 kids, grandparents, and mom living in a 4 bedroom apt. She got her degree, and gradually upscaled her job prospects. Upon that, my grandma finally retired around 70, but my grandpa continued to work up into his mid 80s. My grandpa was significantly darker than me, like a light skinned black person, so no one ever knew we were related. He was very affectionate, and worked as a janitor at my school. Kids literally thought he was a pervert, hugging and kissing me at school, having no idea he was my beloved grandpa. I'm not going to lie, their reaction bothered me, I wished he was the same shade as me at the time. That is my greatest regret, that I couldn't see past our shade of skin. He was my blood, and I was ashamed to be seen by him. All through this time, my mother is making a difference, got her masters, increasing her salary, moving us from an rented apartment to a bought townhouse, to a stand alone 10,000 sq ft house. She was making moves. While in our townhouse, my grandpa passed away, he told me to never forget him, and to work hard.
I was afforded an opportunity to do something. I worked hard in a different way. I'm not religious, but I count my blessings to my family, who paved my way. I had easy access to college. I went there, killed it, killed again, 7 long years studying for one piece of paper and then the next piece of paper. I live in a place where I never have to cut my grass, cuz I know my grandpa killed his body doing it for 60 years. He gave me this opportunity so I'd never have to it myself.