The days of penny candy and Hershey bars for a dime are times my generation can only imagine. Trapped in our phone screens, yet somehow obsessed with an idealized image of history, we are entirely unaware we have the greatest resource regarding wisdom and life at our fingertips — our grandparents. 

While my grandparents may struggle to send a text message, they manage to always brighten my day. From inviting me over for lasagna to taking the time to ask me how my day was, my grandparents have always wanted and needed me in their lives. I am their only granddaughter and undoubtedly one of their favorite people; but I often took them for granted. 

It wasn’t until recently when I realized we were both getting older, that I started listening and taking in the stories they told me and what each story—or lesson—could bring to my life. 

With almost 90 years of wisdom, my Grandpa Richard showed me the price of a dollar, when he would laugh at me for buying $70 ripped jeans, or as he preferred, “Your jeans have holes in them.”

He always taught me how to budget and refuses to accept my measly $10 in gas money when I borrow his beat-up red Subaru. We both share a love for food, especially the expensive kind. And while the majority of the meals we share—whether it be takeout from the Chinatown Inn or a can of Chef Boyardee ravioli—are at his two-bedroom apartment, eating on a handcrafted wooden table, it is not the food that matters, but the conversation. 

My grandpa grew up at Darlington Road in Squirrel Hill. He had one brother, Morton, and two loving parents, Sydney Nathan Debroff and Hilda DeBroff. Nearly every month, my grandpa recounts his childhood — from walking to the tailor with his brother to get fitted for the suit he needed for his bar mitzvah to cutting glass at his father’s hardware store on 4605 Buttler Street (now a French Bakery). And while his young life was filled with great tales and adventures, it is his adult years and wisdom that I try to utilize.

After a traditional four-year undergraduate degree at the University of Pittsburgh, he followed in his brother’s footsteps and gave law school a chance. With not enough credits to move on, and most importantly, figuring out law school wasn’t for him, my grandpa jumped in his new convertible and making his way to New York City. Through my grandpa’s perseverance, outgoing and talkative personality, and unwavering faith that he would not fail, he landed a job at London Fog. Over the next 40 years, he had an amazing job in sales with companies like Levi Strauss and Jostens. He was able to travel across the country and see landmarks I could only dream of. In his travels, he accumulated numerous tales he has shared with me, like getting his car valeted and then stolen in Ohio. But these tales and tribulations would never have been possible if he hadn’t taken a leap of faith. 

From my grandpa’s strides and failures, I have learned it is valuable to go out of my comfort zone. I often find myself closed off and ignoring my grandpa due to a preconceived bias that older generations could never understand modern issues. But the lives of my grandpa and I are not that far apart, from the college we attended or will attend to the traveling we still hope to do or did. We both love coffee ice cream and the color yellow. Now, he is more than just the grandpa I spend holidays with, but my mentor. His years of traveling and holding different jobs have taught me it is necessary to let go and that you can always come home. 

My grandpa remains a traditional man, even if he owns an iPhone—which he can’t quite use. He continues to make his soda the old-fashioned way, with seltzer and chocolate sauce, and he sticks to his Russian roots and has his kitchen cupboard fully stocked with borscht.

While I love my grandparents equally, my Grandma Diane plays a part in the woman I am becoming.

My grandma and I were always closer. I would spend nights at her house watching Hallmark movies and weekends shopping with her. But in recent years circumstances changed pushing me and my grandpa closer. Then, I lost touch with her. Over the summer before my senior year, we rekindled our relationship, but at the same time, my mom and I began taking care of her. At first, it was once every few weeks, bringing her a meal and having conversations.

But last October, everything changed. She spent a week in the hospital and a month in rehab. I visited her every day. I would bring her ice cream, Chinese food, and donuts after my Sunday work shift. But nothing will ever make me forget the beeping of the heart monitors or the sounds of medicine carts making their way down the poorly light hallways in that grimy nursing home.

And while it was great having my grandma close to home, no lesson or experience could prepare me for this struggle. Now spending the majority of my weekends with my grandma, I understand the blessings of time and family. With every fleeting moment, I am consumed by all the stories my grandma has to tell, while understanding she isn’t the person I would spend nights with watching movies and eating pizza or the angelic woman in her wedding photo that I looked up to when I was a child. Nonetheless, she has still taught me a lot in the time we have had over my 18 years of life.

From growing up in Belle Vernon, PA with her sister to attending the University of Pittsburgh, my grandma seemed to do it all at a young age. In her adult years, she had a multitude of careers, from elementary school teacher to a paralegal. Her time spent trying to figure out her life showed me it is helpful to accept change. Whether it be jobs or plans, and even friendships, change is a part of life. From my grandma, I am always reminded to look for better things, even if it is scary. 

Not only have my grandparents been my guide to life, but we also share one crucial aspect of life—we are both attendees of the University of Pittsburgh. For years, I detested the idea of attending Pitt and honestly thought I was above it. But after touring the school and loving the digital narrative program and campus, my grandparents’ stories of their time on campus truly sealed the deal. It is my honor to be able to continue the family legacy at Pitt, knowing the excitement they have over my acceptance. 

While the next four years for me and my grandparents may look completely different, I will always carry their wisdom and experience with me as I try to figure out life. And no matter what, I will always make the time for eating lasagna at my grandfather’s apartment or bringing my grandma treats that make her eyes widen. 

And I hope the confused text messages never stop coming.