I'm not sure your post is meant for me "J". I'm the one relishing in being called grandma since I was 37 when I became a grandmother. I could have said, "Oh, no I AM too young!" I loved my granddaughter and I never looked at my grandparents as old nor the word as being for an old person. It was a term of respect. And respect is what we had for our grandparents.
We hide behind our face creams, botox and worry about what others think. There is a child who will be left behind that will not hold the memories we were fortunate to have.
My grandparents were polar opposites in the family. One set were 100% Italian basically born in America and not very educated. Gave me a wealth of street smarts. My great-aunts showed me the pulse of NYC.
My other set: One was very old gentleman from Palermo, Sicily and a fifth generation Irish American. They had 14 children, 11 who survived. It was a lively house. My grandfather was an inventor, a magician and filmmaker. My grandmother had an Irish brogue. They made a fine pair. He was 20 yrs her senior.
This was a huge family where we had fun and respect were all mixed. The memories are still vivid of the lessons taught, the games from both sides of the Atlantic, the foods, the old adages. There was learning going on when you didn't know it. It was Brooklyn in the 50's and both sets lived about five blocks from each other.
I'm pretty much a fun person, hysterical even. But unloving, no. My ideal would be to have a huge estate with many houses and have all my grandchildren around all the time.
Life in the 50's was good.
