“This looks like Grandma 50 years ago,” announces the retro fashion website, showing a picture of a young girl in a mini skirt – a girl who might well have been me 50 years ago. And I think, “What?!! You mean that was 50 years ago? How did I get here?” It’s just hard for me to accept that my age group is referred to as “Grandma.” In fact, some in my age group are undoubtedly great-grandmas.
Fifty years ago I was a senior year in high school getting ready to graduate. I know – it was two or three lifetimes ago, and yet – wasn’t it just yesterday? Ironically, as vintage eras go, I’m little interested in the ‘60s, ‘70s, ‘80s, etc. To my thinking it was “yesterday,” and though happy enough, also cluttered with some difficult memories. Maybe that’s why we let so much history go by before we begin to realize how precious it was.
|With my parents -- after graduation|
“Are you going to be a grandma?” asked step-son Yancey some 22 years ago when Annie was expected.
“Your dad will be a grandfather,” I replied.
“I know,” said insistent Yancey, “but are you going to be ‘Grandma?’”
Well, I meant to be, but truth be told, I don’t think of myself as “grandma.” We have grandchildren – six of them, three of whom are now young adults – but for one reason or another (distance, my job, the cares of my own household, etc.) – the actual role of grandmother just didn’t come my way – at least not in the way I thought it would. I make a better aunt.
I guess it’s natural that when I think of the general category of “Grandma,” I think of my own grandmothers, both born in the 19th century and passing from this life in the 1950s. In my book, that’s the quintessential image of “grandma.” I guess that image just depends on who your grandmother is/was, and your relationship with her.” KW