Given that Goldie Hawn is not only ageless but also has a wonderful and endearing relationship with her spouse Kurt Russell and is arguably the most entertaining person in Hollywood, you can’t help but watch her.
She is a devoted mother and grandmother to her three biological children, one stepchild, and six grandchildren, and her social media accounts reflect this.
Hollywood romances don’t usually last very long. Celebrity relationships usually come and go. Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell, though, are unquestionably an example of how to make it work even after a long marriage.
In 1983, Goldie began dating fellow Hollywood celebrity and the love of her life, Kurt Russell. More than three decades later, the pair is still deeply in love with and adores one another; they don’t even feel the need to be married.
“So as long as my emotional state is in a state of devotion, honesty, caring, and loving, then we’re fine. I like waking up every day and seeing that he is there and knowing that I have a choice. There is really no reason to marry,” Goldie told Woman’s Day in 2007.
Kurt stated, “Everyone has their marker on what is really important and where you draw the line,” in an interview with the Daily Mail in 2018. The kids come first was Goldie and my main principle.
Through the Goldie Hawn Foundation’s MindUp initiative, which she founded in 2003 to assist improve settings for kids so they may succeed in school and in life, Goldie puts the needs of all children first.
Every time you see her with her daughter Kate Hudson, a Hollywood star in her own right, you can tell how much she loves her own kids. With her second husband Bill Hudson, Goldie had a daughter named Kate and her older brother Oliver.
The amusing mother-daughter team recently made an appearance on the Ellen show, where Goldie made fun of how close she was to daughter Kate when she gave birth to Rani Rose Hudson Fujikawa, who is now one year old.
“The doctor was in there and I could see the head and then it disappeared,” Goldie animatedly declared on the show. “And I’m looking over his shoulder, then the doctor turned to me and said ‘Goldie if you get any closer you’re gonna fall in.’”
In addition, Kate has two sons: Ryder Russell, 15, and Bingham Hawn Bellamy, 8.
My 81-year-old grandma started posting selfies on Instagram with heavy filters.
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.
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