Not directly from a grandparent's mouth
but I do remember my maternal grandma's collection of Boys' Own-a-like magazines and annuals that she'd hoarded from when she was growing up and kept around for my brother and I to read when we came over, all of which would be considered outrageously racist by modern standards. One scene I remember set in a luxury colonial hotel somewhere had a black waiter uttering the line "I'm just a poor, flustered darkie!", which even as a ten-year-old I found a bit strange.

Tempering all this though was my mum's copy of Black Like Me, by John Howard Griffin, about a white bloke who uses melanin tablets and tanning beds to turn himself black and experience first-hand the racism of the Deep South, and which I enjoyed reading immensely.
( .Yeti. El amor en los tiempos del cólera, Thu 27 Oct 2011, 12:36, Reply)