When he was young, our son told us that he had two grandmas: “A sweater grandma and a cookie grandma.” My mother was the sweater grandma. As long as I could remember her knitting was a constant companion. While other women carried purses, our mom carried her knitting bag. It had a lot more than knitting in it. It was a seemingly endless source of band aids, chewing gum, useful tool such as rulers and scissors, and a lot of other necessary everyday items. My mother-in-law was the cookie grandma. She paid close attention to the food choices of her family and that included me and our children. She knew what our favorite foods were. Once she asked me what I would order for myself if I took Susan out to dinner. She served that menu for dinner the very next evening. She knew which cookies were our son’s favorite and made sure that there was a supply of them when we came to visit.

My father died before we had children, but I had the opportunity to see him with my sisters’ children and I know what kind of a grandfather he was. One thing he did that I imitate regularly was to get down on the floor with the little ones. He let them climb on him and allowed his laughter to spread throughout the room.

My maternal grandmother died before I was born and my mother’s father died when I was just two years old, so I don’t have much memory of those grandparents, but my father’s parents lived just an hour’s drive from our home and we saw them regularly when I was growing up. In addition to large family gatherings for holidays, we often would stop by their home for brief visits. My dad and I would sometimes stop in their town after flying fire patrol and walk down to their house for breakfast. I don’t know if my dad warned his parents that we were coming, but it always seemed to me that their house was a place where we could arrive unannounced and be welcomed to a meal.

For as long as I can remember, I have imagined that I would become a father and eventually a grandfather. Our children brought so much meaning and joy to my life that I wanted them to have the experience of being parents themselves. From the time they were fairly young, I saw qualities in both of them that led me to believe that they both would be very good parents and I have not been disappointed. Once I jokingly commented to our children that I thought that five grandchildren would be just the right number. “I don’t care how you do it,” I said. “One of you can have two and the other three or however you want, but 5 would be a good number.” Little did I believe that I would turn out to have five grandchildren. I don’t think I expected the number to be that high until we learned that our youngest grandson was on his way. But I think that five is a very good number for me.

I feel the blessings of being a grandfather every day. I am delighted with technology that lets me video chat with my grandson who lives in South Carolina. I even am able to read him stories over the computer. And four of our grandchildren live close enough to our house for me to ride my bicycle over to their place. I get to see them several times each week. It turned out not to be 2 and 3 or 3 and 2, our daughter has one child and our son has four. I find the luxury of modern technology combined with being retired and able to live near our son’s home to be among the joys of my life. When our children were growing up we lived hundreds of miles from their grandparents and were able to see them only a few times each year.

I was able to hold our youngest grandson on the day he was born and have lived just down the road from him for all of his life. He is at home in our house, knows where the toys are stored, and is able to entertain himself whenever he comes to visit.

I have good friends, however, who are not grandparents and who likely will never be grandparents. In the last decade falling birthrates in the United States have resulted in a dramatic increase in the number of people over 50 years of age who do not have any grandchildren. In 2014 roughly 60 percent of US adults over 50 were grandparents. The number is now roughly half and continues to decline.

I wasn’t a grandfather when I was fifty. In our family the children mostly came in my sixties. But I’ve got friends who like me are in their seventies who have no grandchildren. I don’t know exactly how they feel, but I wonder if they have a sense of longing and loss when they think of grandchildren. From what I know of them, most seem like they would be very good grandparents. Recently, when we learned that one of our friends is expecting her first grandchild, I commented to Susan, “That is one lucky kid! It will be born with a terrific grandma!”

I don’t subscribe to some of the things that are said about being grandparents. I don’t see our grandchildren as a reward for aging. We did nothing to “earn” our grandchildren. We are simply fortunate to have them in our lives. And I don’t agree with those who say that being a grandparent is better than being a parent. I love being a father and I enjoyed every stage of our children’s growing up. There were hard times and sleepless nights, but the overall experience was undeniably positive. Being a grandpa isn’t better than being a dad, but it is different.

Because we lived a long ways from our parents when our children were little, our kids got to know other caring adults in their age range. We often speak of and remember with joy their “church grandmas and grandpas.” So to my friends who do not have grandchildren and wish they did I offer this invitation: “Come on over! I have wonderful grandchildren and I’m glad to share. You can stop by and visit them whenever you like. And, most of the time, we’ll have extra cookies to share as well.”