You know how much I love sharing letters from other amazing grandmas. This one is extra special. It takes us on a sweet journey—from the day this grandma was born to the amazing moment she became a grandma herself, with all the laughter, love, and little bits of chaos in between.
I loved every word, and I hope you do too!
Dear Friends,
I took my first breath in 1950, back when the world felt both big and small. Big, because life stretched out ahead of me like a long road waiting to be traveled. Small, because our little neighborhood felt like the center of the universe. Everyone knew everyone, and if you got caught sneaking a cookie before dinner, chances are Mrs. Johnson from two houses down would tell your mother before you even got home.
The 50s were magical in their own way—jukeboxes playing Elvis, shiny cars with tailfins that looked like rocket ships, and Saturday nights spent sipping sodas at the local diner. I was just a kid, but I remember how simple happiness felt back then. A game of hopscotch, a new pair of roller skates, or catching fireflies in a jar was enough to make us feel rich.
Then came the 60s, and oh boy, did things start to change. I went from ponytails and penny loafers to teasing my hair higher than a beehive had any right to go. Somewhere in the middle of all that teenage drama, I met the man who would eventually steal my heart. Our first date? A drive-in movie where he was too nervous to hold my hand until halfway through. By the time we married, the world felt like it was spinning faster—music, politics, fashion, everything changing at once. But we danced through it, even if our dance moves would make you laugh today.
The 70s were my “I can do it all” years. I had babies on my hip, dinner in the oven, and dreams for the future tucked away in my heart. I tried macramé (failed spectacularly), grew a few questionable houseplants, and wore my fair share of polyester. The world was learning to stand up for fairness and equal rights, and I wanted my kids to grow up knowing kindness, respect, and courage.
By the 80s, I was a professional multitasker—carpool schedules, school projects, and figuring out how to program the microwave without blowing a fuse. Computers showed up, and I swear, ours sounded like it was ready to launch into space every time we turned it on. But through all the chaos, there was laughter, loud dinners around the table, and the best hugs from sticky little arms.
And then—oh, then came the 90s. The moment I held my first grandchild, the world shifted. My heart felt like it grew two sizes in an instant. Being a grandma? It’s the best promotion I’ve ever had. There’s nothing quite like baking cookies while a little voice calls you “Nana” or “Grammy,” or watching tiny hands clap with joy when you read their favorite book for the fifth time in a row.
Now, here I am, years later, still learning new things—mostly from my grandkids. They’ve taught me that silliness is a gift, hugs can fix almost anything, and age is just a number (though my knees might argue with that). I’ve also learned that love only grows bigger the more you share it.
So to every grandparent reading this—keep laughing, keep telling your stories, and don’t be afraid to sing loud or dance like nobody’s watching (even if the grandkids are recording you for the internet). Life is too short not to enjoy every second.
With a full heart and a happy soul,
Margaret