Grandparents Day: The Tables and Lessons We Inherit

September 13, 2026

Some of the most lasting things we inherit are not objects at all. They are ways of making a home feel lived in, ways of feeding people, ways of laughing, and ways of keeping the table open for one another. When I think about my grandparents, that is what comes to mind first. Not a formal family history, but rooms and habits and the kind of everyday love that quietly teaches you how to live.

For me, Grandparents Day is less about sentiment and more about recognition. It is a day to notice the people who left us a pattern. The ones who showed us how to make something beautiful, how to work hard without losing the ability to enjoy life, and how to let a table hold both purpose and ease.

The Hallway Full of Art Supplies

My Mimi was an art teacher, and I always admired the way she carried herself. She had a master’s degree in education, she was competitive, and she never simply let me win at games. I knew her as a woman who could make a beautiful home for herself and create what she needed with confidence. That alone taught me something important. A woman does not have to be fragile to be gracious.

What I remember most clearly is the long hallway in her home with full-size sliding cabinet doors. Behind them were shelves full of art supplies, and I was free to use them and make whatever I wanted. That is such a vivid memory for me because it says so much about the kind of love she gave. The supplies were there. The permission was there. The mess was allowed. Creativity was not treated like a special event. It was part of normal life.

I think that is where a lot of my own artistic life began. Not in a lesson that felt formal, but in a home where materials were within reach and curiosity was welcomed. Mimi taught me, without a lecture, that making things is a way of belonging to your own life.

Starka

My other grandmother, Starka, taught me different things, but they were no less important. She taught me about cooking, family, serving others, and working hard. Those lessons are practical, but they are also deeply human. A good table is not only about what is on it. It is about whether people feel fed, whether they feel expected, and whether the work of caring for them has been done with love.

I think of Starka whenever I think about the ordinary rhythm of family life. Meals had to be made. People had to be served. Things had to be done. But that work was never empty work. It was how family got held together. It was how a home kept its shape.

Styzeck

My grandfather Leonard, whom I called Styzeck, taught me about gardening, taking life a little easier, and joking around. He gave me a different kind of inheritance, one with more room in it. Not everything has to be tightened into effort. Some things grow better when you leave a little space around them. Some days are better when you can laugh instead of taking everything so seriously.

I also remember him at Christmas taking an orange, saying something over it, passing it around the table so everyone could eat a piece, and then doing the same with an apple. I do not remember the exact words now, but I remember the feeling of it. The table was shared. The fruit was shared. Everyone was included in the moment. That is the kind of memory that stays with you because it is simple and whole.

He gave me gardening, too, which feels right to me now. Gardening teaches patience, but it also teaches restraint. You do not force everything. You pay attention. You wait. You let things come in their own time. That feels very much like the kind of wisdom an older generation hands down when they are living well.

What I Carry Forward

When I look at those three inheritances together, I see the shape of the home I have wanted to build for a long time. Mimi gave me a love of making and the freedom to try. Starka gave me the seriousness of feeding people and serving them well. Styzeck gave me a lighter step, a gardener’s patience, and the reminder that a table can hold fruit, conversation, and a little joking around all at once.

Not everyone has a grandmother or grandfather who could be described in exactly those ways. Some people were raised by grandparents, and some were not. Some people inherited love from a grandparent, and some inherited it from someone who simply showed up and stayed. I think Grandparents Day can hold all of that. It can honor the people who were officially ours and the people who functioned like grandparents because they gave us a way to live.

That is what I hope to pass on in my own life. A home where people can make something, eat something, laugh a little, work honestly, and keep going with enough grace to enjoy the next ordinary day. That is a real inheritance. It is the kind that does not sit on a shelf. It lives at the table.

With love and intention,

Jennifer