I went home again this weekend, so instead of writing a "Going home is super cool" blog, I decided I was going to write a "Grandparents are super cool" blog. Hear me out.

Friday afternoon, my mom, aunt and grandfather came to pick me up from school. Once we got home, my aunt and grandfather stayed for dinner. My mom's mentality that food = love was quite alive and well, so I was stuffed silly. Despite that I managed to shovel in a piece of zucchini cake for dessert. What? You've never heard of zucchini cake? You come to my house, I make you some...

Thirsty from the cake, I went into the kitchen to get some tea and my grandfather followed me in to take his blood pressure pill.

"You still going to 'It-ly'? he asked. I said I was but that it wouldn't be until January. (If all goes according to plan, I hope to study abroad in Milan in the spring. My mom's family is Italian so to them it's kiiiind of a big deal.)

I expected my grandpa to tell me where in Italy I could find my relatives or how many gazillions of cousins I have that still live there.

"You should visit Germany," he said. "They are good people. Always treated me good."

Not the response I was expecting. My grandpa was in the army as a communications officer during WWII, so you can imagine my perplexity when he spoke kindly of Germany.

He proceeded to tell me that after the war was over, from May 7, 1945 until November 1945, he remained in Europe traveling all over Germany, France, Italy, Switzerland and Poland, and of all those places, he liked Germany the best.

He said most American soldiers (there were a few bad eggs, of course) were respected, revered almost, by the Germans. He told me how he'd turn in his ration cards for chocolate bars and give them to the German kids and how he'd wake up to find his clothes missing only to find that the neighbor lady had taken them to wash and iron them for him. He told me about the time he ate ice cream in an American-styled ice cream parlor in Berlin, where you had to bring your own sugar as payment, and that he bought a bowl for a little boy who was staring through the parlor window. (After eating, the little boy bowed up and down saying "danke, danke" over and over as he left...adorable.)

Of course it wasn't all sunshine and daisies. He remembers having a machine gun put to his belly by American soldiers when he was mistaken for a German soldier in an American uniform. And how he willingly traded places on watch with a man who had a cold because "if you coughed, you'd be shot at."

It made me realize how petty the things I worry about are. Get a nightlife? Please. More like, get a life. If my grandpa saw this blog, he'd think I'm a wimp. Been there, done that -- times a thousand.

Afterwards, he proceeded to finally take his blood pressure pill and it swiftly brought me back. It made me realize that he wasn't always old. Even though this is the only version of my grandfather that I know, at one point he was repairing communication lines during the Battle of the Bulge in a pitch black forest and exploring the classical cities of Europe.

Everything I've ever dreamed of doing, he's already done. He lived during the roaring 20's, the 30's and 40's -- the time periods I wish I would have lived in -- and suddenly I wished I could have there sat and talked with him until I got every memory of his documented.

When my grandpa got in the car to go home, he said "gute nacht" just like he's done every night he's ever left our house. When I was taking French I'd reply "bonne nuit" but now I echo "gute nacht" back. (He wasn't a big fan of the French, always asking for things he said -- "Cigarette for papa, chocolat for mama?" Right on, Grandpa.)

It seems a little displaced, but when you learn about your grandparents you're really learning about you, where you came from, what makes you who you are. It's your lineage, your genealogy, your life now and in the future too, when you really think about it.

Corny? Perchance...but suck it up soldier -- grandparents are super cool. Recognize.

- Erin