Our Family Letters

· Our Family Letters

Questions to ask your grandparents about their childhood — by generation

A grandparent born in 1938 and one born in 1958 had childhoods on different planets — one remembers ration books, the other remembers Top of the Pops. Most question lists ignore this and ask both of them the same things. These don’t.

Below: questions for each generation, a short set a child can read aloud (it works for the school “interview a grandparent” project), and — because grandparents are the great re-tellers — a way to use the story you’ve heard ten times as a door instead of a dead end.

First: which childhood are you asking about?

Pick the set below that matches when they were small. It matters more than anything else on this page — the right question makes them feel remembered; a question aimed at the wrong decade makes them feel old. If they’re somewhere between the two sets, start with the later one and drift back.

For grandparents born in the 1930s and 40s

The war, from a child’s height

Invite, don’t pry. “What do you remember about VE Day?” opens; “was the war terrible?” closes. Children experienced the war as strangeness, not strategy — ask at that height.

  1. What’s the very first thing you remember — and how old were you?
  2. Were you evacuated, or did you stay? What did your mother pack?
  3. What did the shelter or the cellar smell like?
  4. What do you remember about VE Day — your street, not the newsreels?
  5. What did sweets being rationed actually mean when you were seven?
  6. What did the grown-ups talk about when they thought you weren’t listening?

If the stories start flowing

  • If a hard memory surfaces, don’t retreat or dig — “that sounds like a lot for a child” is enough, and let them choose the next step.

The years after

The late 40s and 50s are where their own choices start. The questions get warmer here — this is usually the easiest ground on the page.

  1. What was the house like — and be honest about the loo.
  2. When did television arrive, and whose house did you first watch it in?
  3. What did you queue for, and what was worth the queue?
  4. Who in the family did national service — and what came back changed?
  5. What was your best toy, and who made it?
  6. What did Sunday feel like, start to finish?

For grandparents born in the 1950s and 60s

A 1950s–60s childhood

Their Britain was changing weekly — new music, new money, new school system. Ask about the changes as they hit one house.

  1. Grammar, secondary modern or comprehensive — and how did that get decided for you?
  2. What was the first record you bought with your own money?
  3. Where were you when you first heard the Beatles — and did you get it?
  4. When the family’s first car arrived, where did it take you first?
  5. What did decimalisation do to your pocket money?
  6. What was your first holiday — Butlin’s, the coast, or the big one abroad?

Becoming themselves

The bridge from their childhood to your existence. Grandparents love being asked about the person they were before the family began.

  1. What did you wear that your parents genuinely hated?
  2. What was your first job, and what did you do with the first pay?
  3. Where did people your age go on a Saturday night?
  4. How did you meet Grandma / Grandad — the real version?
  5. What did you believe at eighteen that makes you laugh now?
  6. What almost happened — the job, the move, the person — that would have changed everything?

For children: eight questions to read aloud

If a child in the family has the classic “interview a grandparent” homework — it’s part of the “changes within living memory” topic in the first years of school — these eight are short enough to read aloud and concrete enough to get real answers. The printable kit includes them with an answer sheet to write on.

The school-project eight

Short, physical, comparable to the child’s own life — the differences do the storytelling by themselves.

  1. What was your school like? What did you write with?
  2. What did you eat for tea when you were my age?
  3. What games did you play, and where?
  4. Did you have a television or a phone? What did you do instead?
  5. How did you get to school?
  6. What did you want to be when you grew up?
  7. What cost a penny when you were little?
  8. What’s one thing from when you were small that you wish still existed?

The stories you’ve heard ten times

Every family has them — the caravan at Rhyl, the night the chip pan caught fire. The mistake is treating a repeated story as a stuck record. It isn’t; it’s a lighthouse. It gets retold because it matters, and it marks a stretch of coastline you’ve never actually explored.

So next time it starts, let it finish — then step sideways: “what happened the year before that?” “Who else was there that you’ve never mentioned?” “What were you all driving back to?” The familiar story relaxes them; the sideways question opens the door beside it. Some of the best stories in a family are stored one room away from the famous one.

Doorway questions

Each one uses a story they already love telling as the entrance to one they’ve never told.

  1. In the story you always tell — who was standing just outside it?
  2. What happened the day after the famous bit?
  3. What was going on at home while all that was happening?
  4. When you tell that story, what do you always leave out?
  5. Who told stories in the family before you did — and which of theirs are you carrying?
  6. What’s a story you’ve never told anyone because nobody ever asked the right question?

When they’re far away

Distance changes the method, not the questions. One question per phone call beats a marathon catch-up. One question per letter — with a stamped envelope tucked in for the reply — is an event on both ends. And one question a week by email suits more grandparents than you’d guess; they answer at their own pace, in their own words, and the words keep themselves.

Whatever the channel, keep the rhythm gentle and regular. The asking becomes something they look forward to; the answers become something the whole family keeps.

If hearing or memory makes it harder

For hearing: sit on their good side, one asker at a time, and write the question down as well as saying it — reading plus hearing beats either alone. For memory that’s beginning to change: stay early. The oldest memories usually stay clearest longest, so childhood questions are often the kindest ones on this page. Skip anything that brings fog rather than light, and finish while it’s still a nice afternoon.

Questions families ask us

What are good questions for the “interview a grandparent” school project?
Use the school-project eight above — short, concrete, comparable to the child’s own life (school, tea, games, getting around). Have the child write or record the answers; the printable kit includes an answer sheet. Teachers set this as part of the “changes within living memory” history topic, so differences — what cost a penny, life before television — are exactly what they’re after.
How do I ask about the war without upsetting them?
Ask at a child’s height, because that’s where they lived it: VE Day on their street, what was in the evacuation suitcase, what rationing meant for a seven-year-old. Invitations (“what do you remember about…”) leave them in charge; verdicts (“was it terrible?”) put them on the spot. If something heavy surfaces, receive it warmly and let them decide whether to stay.
My grandparents tell the same stories over and over. Is it worth asking anything new?
Yes — and the repeated story is your best tool. It gets retold because it matters. Let it finish, then ask what happened the year before, who else was there, or what they always leave out. New stories are usually stored right next to the famous one.
How do we do this when they live far away?
One question at a time, on whatever they already use: a question per phone call, per letter (enclose a reply envelope), or per email. Weekly beats occasionally — the rhythm matters more than the channel, and written replies have the advantage of keeping their exact words.

You could ask these questions yourself.

Most families mean to, and never quite do. We send your grandparent one gentle question a week, by email, and keep every reply — in their words, forever.

Start their letters

Free to start. No pressure on them, ever.