Life is Legacy in Motion: What My Nana Taught Me
We received the news this past Friday that my Nana, Ruth Margaret Currie, passed away. In the fall of 2014, as her health and memory began to decline, she moved from the East Coast to the West Coast to be closer to my aunt, who could provide her with more care. Soon after, she transitioned into an Alzheimer’s unit, where she spent the last decade of her life.
I visited her in Washington State throughout her decline, and in many ways, her passing has felt gradual. I’ve learned to live in the in-between—when she was physically present but, in some real ways, no longer the Nana I knew.
By happenstance, I found myself driving to Raleigh on Saturday morning, and in a very gracious way, I had time to reflect on her life. As I drove, I laughed, cried, and pondered the lessons her life taught me. Here are a few I want to share. My hope is that you not only see the lessons but also get a sense of who she was.
1. Trust Your Gut
Nana moved to North Carolina from Philadelphia in the late ’90s. She was a huge Elvis fan. When she arrived in NC, she showed me an Elvis front license plate she’d owned for years. I asked, “Why don’t you have it on your car?” She replied, “It would get stolen.”
As a twenty-something, I kind of laughed inside and thought, Who would steal an Elvis front plate? Maybe in Philly, sure—but not in NC! With some persuasion, she finally put it on her car. And guess what happened? The Elvis plate was stolen.
The lesson: it’s okay to trust your gut. From then on, her front license plate read “Traveling Nana.”
2. Be a Communicator—and Find Many Ways to Do It
Nana found every way possible to stay connected. Think back to the days of answering machines—she would leave a new message every day, sometimes even twice a day. These messages were like little status updates before Facebook or X even existed.
For example, she might leave a message like, “I left today for the twins’ birthdays, and we’re going to [blank] for dinner,” or “Did you hear? Richard Nixon died.” If it was an exceptionally good answering machine day, we’d even have our friends call just to hear it.
She also wrote letters—cards or long updates about her life. She picked up the phone to check in or share news, whether about life or the outcome of a game her beloved 76ers or Phillies had played. She stayed connected, and she made sure you felt remembered.
3. Friendship Matters. Connection Matters.
Nana never met a stranger. She could strike up a conversation with anyone. But more importantly, she nurtured her relationships.
She was a great friend to my other grandmother, Mommom. In the later stages of their lives, they both lived near our family, and we all spent time together. During that time, Nana and Mommom deepened their friendship—they were a good balance for each other. They shared meals, played bingo, and enjoyed life together. One day, we even got a call that they had ended up in a ditch because Nana missed the road while cutting across the highway!
She also stayed connected with lifelong friends like Anne from Ridley Park and newer friends like Shirley, who shared her love of bingo. She checked in on her people because they mattered to her.
I realize now that her interests—bingo, sports—helped her create a sense of community. They gave her a place to belong, meaningful friendships, and probably helped her fight off loneliness. She loved bringing people into her experiences. All of us grandkids had opportunities to go to bingo, and at one point, when I coached college soccer, several of my players came too.
One memorable night at bingo, Nana was convinced one of my sisters had bingo—even though she didn’t. Nana wouldn’t let it go, so my sister finally called out, “Bingo,” knowing full well she didn’t have it. As my sister read back the numbers, the caller declared, “No bingo.” All the other bingo players huffed and looked annoyed. But that was Nana—she wanted you in on the collective experience.
Whether it was cheering for sports, attending senior night at the local IHOP, or calling out fake bingos, she wanted you to share in her norm and feel a part of her world.
4. Work Ethic
Nana worked hard her entire life. She spent years working in the restaurant industry as a waitress at the Gaslight. While I don’t remember visiting her there, I do remember hearing the stories and driving by the restaurant years later when we visited her. Every Halloween, she would go all out, dressing up in creative costumes and sending us pictures of her outfits. She truly embraced the spirit of the season and took pride in her work.
At home, her work ethic was just as evident. You would often find her early in the morning in her robe, out in the backyard, diligently picking up magnolia tree leaves. She never opted for the path of least resistance; she had a drive that kept her going and took pride in every task she undertook.
5. Self-Agency
This is something I’ve come to appreciate more as I’ve gotten older. Nana was unapologetically herself. She liked who she was. She knew what she wanted.
She was adventurous, confidently driving herself anywhere and embracing the freedom to do what she wanted to do. Not much was limiting to her—she lived with a sense of independence and determination that was inspiring.
She was independent but deeply loved her people. She enjoyed life—whether it was bingo nights, getting her nails done, reading a good book, cheering on her sports teams, or taking pride in her family.
I am so grateful for her legacy and the love, lessons, and memories she has left us.
In closing, my youngest sister had a daughter this year, and her middle name is Margaret. It represents a part of my Nana in the generations to come. I love this tribute to Nana—it feels like a way to honor her life and the lessons she left us.
Whether you have a Nana or another loved one you’ve recently lost, I encourage you to take the time and space to think about their impact on your life.
Life is legacy in motion.