Maybe today’s young people don’t realize it, but the women who are grandmothers now weren’t always the soft-spoken figures you see at family gatherings, baking pies or knitting sweaters.
Once upon a time, we were wild.
We wore miniskirts that shocked our parents, tight jeans that barely let us breathe, tall leather boots that made us feel invincible, and yes — sometimes we went without bras. Not because we were trying to make a statement (though it became one), but because we wanted to feel free, untamed, and alive.
We swayed to the music of Led Zeppelin, The Who, The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Jimi Hendrix, and Janis Joplin. Their songs weren’t just tunes on the radio — they were our heartbeat. We screamed the lyrics until our voices cracked, believing every word meant something bigger than us.
We drove Mini Coopers down winding country roads with the windows open, hair whipping in the wind. Some of us rode motorcycles — feeling the growl of the engine vibrate through our bones. We drank gin and tonics, whiskey, and tequila, laughing until dawn, not caring about calories or filters or how our faces looked in photos — because there were no photos unless someone brought a film camera.
We went to music festivals — not the glossy, branded ones you have now, but real ones. Muddy fields, makeshift tents, cheap beer, and thousands of strangers who felt like family. We danced barefoot until sunrise, covered in dirt and joy.
Life felt endless then. We didn’t scroll; we lived. We didn’t document every moment; we just let them happen. The world was smaller and yet somehow bigger, because we had to go out and find it.
Television? We barely noticed it. We had each other, our music, and our dreams.
So when you see your grandma today — with her reading glasses, her cozy sweaters, and her careful steps — remember this: once upon a time, she was cooler than you’ll ever be.
We were rebels, dreamers, and lovers of life before hashtags and selfies ever existed.
Someone had to tell you.
— From a Grandma, with love.
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