The notification popped up on my phone, another Instagram post from Grandma Rose. I sighed, tapping on the icon. There she was, her face smoothed and airbrushed beyond recognition, a pair of oversized, cartoonish sunglasses perched on her nose. A cascade of digital sparkles rained down around her. The caption read, “Feeling my vibe! #OOTD #YOLO #GrandmaGoals.”
My stomach churned. At first, it had been a novelty, a quirky, endearing quirk of my 81-year-old grandmother. But now, weeks into her social media blitz, it was bordering on unbearable.
It had started innocently enough. She’d asked me to help her set up an Instagram account, intrigued by the photos I’d shown her of my travels and friends. I’d thought it was a sweet way for her to stay connected with the family, a digital scrapbook of sorts.
But Grandma Rose had taken to Instagram like a fish to water, or rather, like a teenager to a viral trend. She’d discovered the world of filters, the power of hashtags, and the allure of online validation. Suddenly, she was posting multiple times a day, each photo more heavily filtered than the last.
The captions were a whole other level of cringe. She’d pepper them with slang I barely understood, phrases like “slay,” “lit,” and “no cap.” She’d even started using emojis, a barrage of hearts, stars, and laughing faces that seemed to clash with her gentle, grandmotherly image.
The pinnacle of my mortification came when she asked me, with wide, earnest eyes, how to do a “get ready with me” video. “You know, darling,” she’d said, her voice brimming with excitement, “like those lovely young ladies on the internet. I want to show everyone my makeup routine!”
I’d choked on my coffee. My makeup routine consisted of moisturizer and a swipe of mascara. Grandma Rose’s “makeup routine” involved a dusting of powder and a dab of lipstick.
The worst part was, my entire family was egging her on. They’d shower her with likes and comments, calling her “amazing,” “inspiring,” and “a social media queen.” They were completely oblivious to my growing dread.
I was trapped in a vortex of secondhand embarrassment. What if my friends saw these posts? What if my coworkers stumbled upon her profile? I could already imagine the whispers, the snickers, the awkward attempts at polite conversation.
I found myself avoiding family gatherings, dreading the inevitable discussions about Grandma Rose’s latest post. I’d scroll through my feed, wincing at each new notification, my finger hovering over the “unfollow” button, a button I couldn’t bring myself to press.
One evening, I found myself sitting across from my mom, the glow of her phone illuminating her face as she scrolled through Grandma Rose’s profile. “Isn’t she just the cutest?” she gushed, showing me a photo of Grandma Rose with a digital halo and angel wings.
“Mom,” I said, my voice strained, “don’t you think this is… a little much?”
My mom looked at me, her brow furrowed. “What do you mean? She’s having fun. She’s expressing herself.”
“But it’s not her,” I argued. “It’s like she’s trying to be someone else.”
“She’s adapting, darling,” my mom said, her voice gentle. “She’s embracing technology. She’s living her best life.”
I knew I wasn’t going to win this argument. My family, in their well-meaning attempt to support Grandma Rose, were completely blind to the awkwardness of the situation.
I decided to try a different approach. The next time Grandma Rose asked me for help with her Instagram, I sat down with her and gently explained the concept of “authenticity.” I showed her photos of herself, unfiltered and unedited, her smile genuine, her eyes sparkling with wisdom.
“You’re beautiful just the way you are, Grandma,” I said, my voice sincere. “You don’t need filters or slang to be amazing.”
She looked at the photos, her eyes softening. “Do you really think so, darling?” she asked, her voice a whisper.
“Absolutely,” I said, squeezing her hand.
Grandma Rose didn’t stop posting, but she did tone it down. The filters became less intense, the captions more genuine. She even started sharing stories from her life, anecdotes that were both heartwarming and hilarious.
And slowly, I began to appreciate her online presence. I realized that it wasn’t about trying to be an influencer; it was about Grandma Rose finding her own way to connect with the world, to express her joy, to simply be herself. And in the end, that was more than enough.
This man bought the home from an elderly couple who built it in the 1970s: He sees a hole in his front yard, examines it closer, and is surprised where it leads
The allure of old buildings lies not only in their physical structures but also in the historical tales they hold. While the phrase “If these walls could talk” may be a bit cliché, it sparks the imagination to envision the lives and stories embedded within those timeworn walls. As a child, I was captivated by the charm of my grandparents’ 18th-century mansion, a dwelling that had exchanged hands multiple times over the centuries.
Contemplating the lives of those who inhabited the house in the 1800s and visualizing the landscape before its construction fueled my curiosity. It’s intriguing how many individuals remain oblivious to the secrets concealed within their own homes. A similar sense of astonishment struck Simon Marks from Luton, England, when he unwittingly stumbled upon a hidden piece of history in his front yard.
Several years ago, Simon Marks discovered an unexpected feature beneath his property: a two-roomed World War II air raid shelter. The incident unfolded as Simon drove into what he initially believed to be a flowerbed, only to realize that his vehicle had descended into the concealed structure. “A large hole developed. I thought it was a sinkhole or a badly constructed garden”, recounted Simon, 37, to The Sun.
Fearful that his entire house might disappear into the unexpected void, Simon investigated further. To his surprise, he uncovered a ladder and, upon using a selfie stick to peer into the depths, identified the underground relic as a World War II air raid shelter. His father, upon seeing the images, immediately recognized the structure and informed Simon of its historical significance.
Acquiring the home from an elderly couple who had constructed it in the 1970s, Simon speculated that the previous owners must have been aware of the shelter’s existence. “The previous owner must have known it was there, and when he built the house and put a garden in, he must have filled it in”, Simon surmised. Undeterred by the unexpected discovery, he expressed a keen interest in preserving and restoring the bunker, considering it a remarkable piece of history.
Motivated by their newfound historical treasure, Simon and his father embarked on a venture to uncover the entire two-room construction, digging with buckets to reveal the structure in its entirety. The process, captured in a video showcasing the shelter and its restoration, serves as a testament to the unexpected historical gems hidden beneath the surface of our everyday lives.
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