Tag Archives: The Crypt

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Lisa’s Private Thoughts – Nov. 26, 2009 – Thanksgiving With Uncle Nathan

*A quick note from Allan: My sincerest apologies for not doing more on the stories these past few months. I’ve been busy with learning and creating audiobooks, as well as doing book covers, reviews, and book trailers for Helen and others. However, you will be pleased to hear that Nathan’s books are among those being turned into audios as I write. One or two short stories will be appearing here soon in audio form so you can get a taste of what’s to come. Also, work has been continuing on the sequel to “The Vampyre Blogs – Coming Home” which is currently being titled “The Vampyre Blogs – Family Ties”. Helen and I have a number of surprises for Nathan and you all, so please stay tuned. In the meantime, here’s a little Thanksgiving story I created 3 years ago. We hope you enjoy this tale that shows just how crazy things can get around the holidays… especially if you hang out with Nathan*

THANKSGIVING DAY 

I think everyone has memories of certain holiday gatherings that they’ll never forget.  Usually it’s because something really special or very unfortunate happened.  But how many of us can say they’ll never forget a certain Thanksgiving dinner because the host wound up fighting a duel with the intended dinner?

Well that’s what happened this year and I don’t think I’ll even need to watch the video I took of it, to help me remember.  However, I will be saving it to show any children or grandchildren I have down the road, so they can see what craziness can ensue when you let Uncle Nathan try to prepare a holiday dinner.

It all started about a week ago, right after Mom gave birth to my new baby brother Geoffrey.  I was on hand for the event, while Dad and Uncle Nathan stayed in the Waiting Room.  Mom had given strict instructions that neither of them were allowed to be on hand to watch.  In fact part of my job was to make sure they didn’t come in.

I asked Doctor Jack about it later and all he did was smirk and mumble something about a Dr. Quackenbush and associate, who had been on hand to help keep the patient relaxed.  The name sounded familiar to me so I Googled it afterwards on my laptop and found it was one of Groucho Marx’s personas from a movie called “A Day At the Races”.  Apparently, he’d played a veterinarian who also treated a rich woman as one of his patients.  Having seen Uncle Nathan’s Groucho impression I could only imagine what kind of nonsense he and Dad must’ve gotten up to inside the delivery room that day until Mom ordered the two of them out.

Anyway, right after Geoffrey arrived, Uncle Nathan offered to host Thanksgiving over at The Crypt.  “Between late night feedings and changing diapers I don’t think any of you are going to be up to shopping and prepping a big meal,” he pointed out.

Needless to say, none of us disagreed with him.  He even invited Dr. Jack and his family to join the festivities, which my favorite physician readily agreed to.  We didn’t see or hear from Uncle Nathan again for the rest of the week, which made my parents wonder if dinner was still on.  Then last night he phoned to let us know he’d been called away to help his old friend, Professor Otto Hofstadter, with a little ‘problem’ which they’d successfully resolved, and that we were still expected the next day at 5:00 PM.

Needless to say we left the house today and headed downtown.  Once we reached the building that housed The Crypt, we headed down the side alley where the stairs leading down to The Crypt awaited.  Dr. Jack and his family were just heading down the steps when we showed up and after the usual Thanksgiving greetings were exchanged, we all carefully made our way down the steps.  The door at the bottom was unlocked so we let ourselves in only to have our breaths taken away.

As usual, Uncle Nathan had really gone all out with decorating the place.  There was a huge table that could seat a couple of dozen people just on one side, in the center of the main room.  It was all decked out with candles, plates,fancy napkins, the works.  There was also a very expensive looking harp nearby, which meant we would probably be treated to some fine music afterwards.  As we all gazed around in wonder, I couldn’t believe he’d gone to so much trouble just for us, but I was glad at the same time.  “This was going to be one of the most memorable Thanksgiving dinners ever,” I breathed aloud, while everyone nodded in agreement.

Uncle Nathan appeared a moment later, wearing a white apron and a big chef’s hat.  After greeting each of us, he got everyone settled in and disappeared back to the kitchen area.  We were all excited and eager to see what he had prepared for us.  A moment later, he came back out carrying a huge glimmering silver platter.  Naturally it had a very shiny lid which was rather tall, leaving us all wondering how big a turkey he had gotten for the occasion.  However, knowing his sense of humor, I I half expected it to be a very small bird no bigger than a pigeon,  But much to my surprise and delight, when the cover was removed, there was indeed a very large bird on the platter.

After running back into the kitchen and returning with more dishes, he removed his hat and apron, and proceeded to brandish a very large fork, which he deftly sank into the turkey.  Only to have the bird jump up, remove the fork from itself and then waved an angry fist at him.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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Lisa’s Private Thoughts – Nov. 26, 2009 – Thanksgiving With Uncle Nathan

I think everyone has memories of certain holiday gatherings that they’ll never forget.  Usually it’s because something really special or very unfortunate happened.  But how many of us can say they’ll never forget a certain Thanksgiving dinner because the host wound up fighting a duel with the intended dinner?

Well that’s what happened this year and I don’t think I’ll even need to watch the video I took of it, to help me remember.  However, I will be saving it to show any children or grandchildren I have down the road, so they can see what craziness can ensue when you let Uncle Nathan try to prepare a holiday dinner.

It all started about a week ago, right after Mom gave birth to my new baby brother Geoffrey.  I was on hand for the event, while Dad and Uncle Nathan stayed in the Waiting Room.  Mom had given strict instructions that neither of them were allowed to be on hand to watch.  In fact part of my job was to make sure they didn’t come in.

I asked Doctor Jack about it later and all he did was smirk and mumble something about a Dr. Quackenbush and associate, who had been on hand to help keep the patient relaxed.  The name sounded familiar to me so I Googled it afterwards on my laptop and found it was one of Groucho Marx’s personas from a movie called “A Day At the Races”.  Apparently, he’d played a veterinarian who also treated a rich woman as one of his patients.  Having seen Uncle Nathan’s Groucho impression I could only imagine what kind of nonsense he and Dad must’ve gotten up to inside the delivery room that day until Mom ordered the two of them out.

Anyway, right after Geoffrey arrived, Uncle Nathan offered to host Thanksgiving over at The Crypt.  “Between late night feedings and changing diapers I don’t think any of you are going to be up to shopping and prepping a big meal,” he pointed out.

Needless to say, none of us disagreed with him.  He even invited Dr. Jack and his family to join the festivities, which my favorite physician readily agreed to.  We didn’t see or hear from Uncle Nathan again for the rest of the week, which made my parents wonder if dinner was still on.  Then last night he phoned to let us know he’d been called away to help his old friend, Professor Otto Hofstadter, with a little ‘problem’ which they’d successfully resolved, and that we were still expected the next day at 5:00 PM.

Needless to say we left the house today and headed downtown.  Once we reached the building that housed The Crypt, we headed down the side alley where the stairs leading down to The Crypt awaited.  Dr. Jack and his family were just heading down the steps when we showed up and after the usual Thanksgiving greetings were exchanged, we all carefully made our way down the steps.  The door at the bottom was unlocked so we let ourselves in only to have our breaths taken away.

As usual, Uncle Nathan had really gone all out with decorating the place.  There was a huge table that could seat a couple of dozen people just on one side, in the center of the main room.  It was all decked out with candles, plates,fancy napkins, the works.  There was also a very expensive looking harp nearby, which meant we would probably be treated to some fine music afterwards.  As we all gazed around in wonder, I couldn’t believe he’d gone to so much trouble just for us, but I was glad at the same time.  “This was going to be one of the most memorable Thanksgiving dinners ever,” I breathed aloud, while everyone nodded in agreement.

Uncle Nathan appeared a moment later, wearing a white apron and a big chef’s hat.  After greeting each of us, he got everyone settled in and disappeared back to the kitchen area.  We were all excited and eager to see what he had prepared for us.  A moment later, he came back out carrying a huge glimmering silver platter.  Naturally it had a very shiny lid which was rather tall, leaving us all wondering how big a turkey he had gotten for the occasion.  However, knowing his sense of humor, I I half expected it to be a very small bird no bigger than a pigeon,  But much to my surprise and delight, when the cover was removed, there was indeed a very large bird on the platter.

After running back into the kitchen and returning with more dishes, he removed his hat and apron, and proceeded to brandish a very large fork, which he deftly sank into the turkey.  Only to have the bird jump up, remove the fork from itself and then waved an angry fist at him.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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Nathaniel’s E-Journal, Feb. 5th, 20– “Memories of Music and Fibromyalgia”

I had just gotten back to Pointer after doing some book signings up in Allentown Pennsylvania.  The night was still young, but I didn’t feel like dropping in on Brian and his family.  After spending hours talking and signing books I felt like having some alone time.  So I headed downtown to where my club awaited.

Being a Thursday night, I knew it wouldn’t be open to the public so it was a safe bet I’d have the place to myself.  After quietly leaving my car near Doctor Jack’s office, I walked the streets for a while in order to stretch my legs.  It felt good.

I never knew being an author could be so tiring at times.  Oh the late nights writing suit me fine, but ever since I signed a few deals with Hollywood, my presence has been in demand.  Meetings, lectures, book signings, and personal appearances have kept me busy lately.  So not having to be anywhere in particular and being able to wander a bit is very relaxing.

But as I drew close to the alleyway that led to my club, I spotted a familiar figure lingering nearby.

It was Teddy, one of my regular customers.  He’s a nice kid who I helped out a few weeks ago when one of the jocks tried to bully him for asking a cheerleader to dance.  I put a stop to things rather quickly, especially when I realized he suffered from Fibromyalgia.  Ever since that night I’ve felt a kind of kinship towards him.

Although I never got a diagnosis, I know I shared his affliction when I was even younger than him.  The constant pain left me tired and unsteady at times.  But I was labeled ‘lazy’ and ‘clumsy’ by many, including my father.  So I had to learn to hide my constant discomfort and fight my body’s tendency to not want to cooperate at times.  I don’t think my father ever realized how much work I put in to just trying to appear to be normal.  My mother on on the other hand knew better as did my little sister Isabella who often asked that I accompany her places to read to her.  Being so young and blessed with eyes like an angel’s, Father barely ever refused her requests thus getting me out from under his watchful eye.

It wasn’t that he was cruel, I think he simply believed that being firm with me would lead to my becoming a ‘real’ man down the road.  The idea of disappointing him always haunted me, which was part of the reason why I joined the Which is part of the reason I joined the 7th West Virginia Volunteer Regiment when the Civil War started.  The day I appeared before him and mother in uniform for the first time I could see the pride in his eyes.

But I also saw something else, fear.  This is probably what led to his pulling me close, something he rarely did with me and said, “I know how much you hurt sometimes and that your body can betray you.  They say this’ll be over before Christmas, so don’t be foolhardy.  Come back in one piece and know I’m always going to be proud of you, my son.”

Oh how I would’ve loved to have heard those words so much sooner, but just hearing them once was more than enough.

Looking at Teddy I knew he could use some words of comfort as well.  His shoulders were slumped and in his face was a trace of tiredness I knew only too well.

After a brief greeting I invited him inside the club.  He seemed surprised but was more than willing to accept my invitation.  We both knew the seats were comfortable and that the place would be nice and quiet.

Soon we were sitting quietly near my piano, chatting away.  He was now dating Tina, a member of the cheerleading squad.  She wasn’t the one he’d been asking to dance when the trouble started, but she had been on hand and had helped him up after I intervened.  Like him, she too suffers from Fibromyalgia, but that was not the reason he was alone tonight.  She had gone out of town to visit relatives, leaving him with time on his hands.

“So what brought you out this way?” I asked him. “You knew the club wouldn’t be open tonight.”

“Nothing,” he replied, a little too quickly.  “I was just in the neighborhood and needed to take a moment to rest when you saw me.”

He was hurting.  That much I was sure of.  But he also wasn’t telling me everything.  I decided to dig a little deeper.  “You know, when my Fibro was acting up I didn’t always feel like taking long walks.”

Teddy gives me an odd look, but says nothing.

“And I know you live all the way over on the other side of town,” I continued.

This time I saw realization sink in and his shoulders sagged.  “Okay, I came all the way over here to try and get to the music store before it closed, but I didn’t make it.”

By this time my curiosity was aroused.  “What were you going to get there?  Sheet music?”

“No a guitar,” he tells me.  “I’ve been getting lessons from one of my cousins for years now and I’ve gotten really good.  But I only really get to practice when I can borrow his or at school.  But I can’t take the ones from school home with me.  So I saved my money and was going to finally get my own, but my Fibro slowed me down and… well, you know the rest.”

I was both impressed and a little confused by his determination to get the instrument.  “You came all this way, even though you were hurting like hell to buy that guitar?  How come?  Why was it so important to you?”

He looked away from me and stared down at his hands.  “When I play, I lose myself in the music and I can forget the pain for a while.  I don’t feel like a loser or a lame-o,” he replied quietly.

“I know what you mean,” I told him and stood up.  Wandering over to my piano I continued, “I cannot tell you how many times I’ve sat here and just cut loose so I could become lost in the music.  The same thing happens when I’m dancing as well.  I can forget whatever’s bothering me and with that respite my mind can clear itself for a time.  Then, when I’ve finished, I feel recharged.  Invigorated and ready to face whatever’s coming.”

My fingers brushed the white keys ever so gently.  This piano and I were old friends.  It had been given to me by Jimmy Durante, the great Schnozzola himself, as a gift some years ago and I treasured it.  His charitable nature extended way beyond his friends.  I remembered all the work he did for boys, girls and teens all over.

Just then I heard his voice as if it was coming from behind me saying those immortal words, “Do it for the kids.”

Without a second thought, I asked Teddy to stay put while I went down into the storage area.  After a brief search I found what I was looking for and came back with a guitar cases.  It had belonged to one of my many nephews who had given up playing after less than a year and had gone onto working on cars instead.

Opening the case I pulled the instrument out.  It looked as new as I remembered.

Teddy gasped and came over to take a closer look.  “Oh man, it’s a Gibson!  And it’s in mint condition.”

Smiling, I handed it to him and said, “See if it’s still in tune.”

It wasn’t, but my companion quickly fixed rectified the problem.  He had a good ear and definitely knew his stuff.  Soon he was treating me to a display of his skills that held me in awe.  I’ve learned to play a number of instruments over the decades, but I’d never mastered the guitar.  Harps, keyboards, violin and a couple of wind instruments were my limit.

But Teddy knew exactly what he was doing.  Watching his fingers flying up and down the guitar’s neck and picking those strings was a marvel to behold.  He played for an hour and then we talked until it was time for him to go home.  I sent the guitar with him on ‘permanent’ loan.  To say he was grateful would be an understatement.  But I knew it would do better in his hands than just sitting in the storage room. Especially since I knew it would help him through those difficult times when the Fibro was getting too much.

I don’t feel those pains anymore of course.  My condition freed me from the shackles of Fibromyalgia and a great many other infirmities.  But I never forgot what it felt like, or how even a small respite of any kind could mean so much.

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An Early Halloween Treat From Me To You!

stock-vector-trick-or-treat-halloween-text-109771892

*HAPPY HALLOWEEN everyone!  I decided to give you all an early treat by sharing a snippet from “The Vampyre Blogs” novel itself.  Unlike the other entries you’ve seen here on this blog, this entry actually shows up in the book.  I was careful to choose this particular entry since all three characters are well known to you by now.  Plus it doesn’t give too much away, while hopefully leaving you with some questions to think about until the novel’s release at Christmas.  So without further ado, here are Marisa, Lisa and Nathaniel.  I hope you enjoy*

MARISA’S MUSINGS – October 7th, 2012

It’s been such a strange day, especially this evening.  I still don’t know what think at the moment.

Waking up and finding Dad was still at home sitting in front of the TV just like in my dreams, gave me a start.  Especially when I saw he looked a little greyish, but then Mom opened the curtains and I saw he was just tired.  I literally blew a sigh of relief, but it still set me on edge for the rest of the day.

Unfortunately, most of my classes were on the quiet and boring side today, which meant I kept worrying about my dad.

Thank God Lisa was in all of them with me.  I don’t know what I would’ve done without her around trying to distract me.  But I still couldn’t get that damn dream out of my head.  It had felt so real.  Then, just as we arrived at The Crypt, I started wondering if it had actually been some kind of warning. The idea it might be really put me on edge.

Unfortunately, that’s when Dianne showed up and started in with me, as usual.  Normally I can ignore her comments, but tonight, I just couldn’t.  God I feel so bad about what happened.  Poor Lisa got caught up in things and could’ve wound up getting hurt if Nathaniel hadn’t stepped in when he did.

I still feel bad about blowing up at him the way I did at the time.  But that’s not the only thing that’s bothering me about him.  After tonight, I can’t look at him the same way I used to.

Finding out he was once married and that his wife pass away in his arms, really hit me hard.  I guess that’s why I kissed him the way I did.  I just wanted to wipe away the pain I knew he was experiencing at that moment, along with my own.  I didn’t tongue him or anything, but for a second I nearly did.  Something about him that made me feel so alive that I didn’t want it to stop.  But I remembered Lisa was with us and I know she has a crush on him.  So I backed off.  But a part of me wanted to go right back to kissing him.   I don’t think I’ve ever wanted someone so bad in all my life.

And truth be told, I still want him.  But I’m also a little leery of him, because of because of what happened next.

I excused myself and started to fix my make-up.  After all that crying I’d done earlier, I knew I must look like hell.

Nathaniel was kind enough to walk away and give me my space, while Lisa checked on me quick before she went over to join him at the window.  As I heard the two of them talking quietly, I stole a glance over my shoulder.  Lisa was hanging onto him in a playful way, and I started to get jealous for a moment.

Quickly, I shook my head and pulled out my compact so I could use the mirror as I fixed my make-up.  Surprisingly, I didn’t look too bad and was able to make myself presentable rather quickly.

Then I decided to use the mirror to take another at Lisa and Nathaniel to see what they were up to.  And that’s when it happened.  I could see Lisa still acting if she were draped all over Nathaniel, only he wasn’t there.

I blinked and stared at the mirror again, but the image had not changed.  From the way Lisa was positioned, I knew she had to be hanging onto someone, because there was no way she could keep her balance in that pose.  But there was no one there.

Carefully I took another look over my shoulder and saw the two of them just as I had before.  Then I looked back at my mirror and saw only Lisa holding on to empty air.  I let out a little gasp and dropped everything, including the compact which shattered on impact.

Immediately, Lisa came rushing over to see what was wrong and quickly helped me gather everything.  Nathaniel on the other had stayed by the window.  He seemed to be in deep thought.

Naturally, I didn’t tell either of them what I saw, or rather what I didn’t see.  Instead, after Lisa helped me get all my make-up back in the purse, I told them I felt like going back down to the dance floor.   I’d remembered there were huge mirrors on the walls down there and wanted to see what would happen when we got down there.

To my amazement and relief, I saw all three of our reflections in every one of them.  At that point I was fully ready to believe my eyes had simply played a trick on me.

But now my mind has gone back to the day in my Aunt Betsy’s office when I first met Nathaniel.  She had brought in those beautiful fresh cut flowers.  But after he went near them to get his coat and hat,  we’d found them black and withered.

Is he what I think he is?  I’ve seen enough movies to know all the signs.   Yet, I saw his reflection in the mirrors of the club.  Plus he has a bunch of mirrors in his home which I’ve seen him use.

No, I think I’ve just been stressing out too much lately.  There’s no such thing as vampires.  Right?

Happy-Halloween-Gif-2

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Reflections On The Past And Ponderings Of The Future…

The Crypt is silent tonight.  It’s a Tuesday and the place is closed as usual.  Usually I only open the place on Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays.  If I have it open during the regular weekdays, a lot of the kids would never get enough sleep for school the next day, and I don’t want to deal with angry parents complaining that my place is an attractive nuisance.  Not that anyone would believe it.  My place is a drug and alcohol free zone.  It’s actually one of the safest places teenagers can come to get away from the darker elements out there.

Still, keeping the place open seven days a week would be quite demanding on me and my DJ Scar-Man.  He has a family these days and needs to be able to spend time with them.  And I need time to myself.  Even after a hundred and fifty years, I still enjoy some ‘me’ time.  I know, I know, most vampires you see in movies or read about are lonely and longing for company.  Well this is real life and I have plenty of extended family and friends who love to have me visit. or like to come over and drop in to see me and I love it.

However, I do need some time alone every so often and tonight is one of those evenings.  So with the doors locked up I’ve scaled the many steps that lead to the top of this old building where my art studio awaits.  I though I might be in the mood to pick up a brush and work on a canvas or two, but not at the moment.  Instead, I’m in a more contemplative mood at the moment.

There’s a huge picture window at one end of the studio that allows me to gaze out at the town.  It’s very pretty at night.  The streetlights are lit up, as well as a number of houses.  The evening is still young so very few have gone to bed just yet.

 

Who knows who I might meet this evening if I venture out into the streets.  That’s half the fun of being a night walker.  It’s always an adventure.  You see things and people, most folks overlook in their busy day.  For me, I find stories and inspirations for paintings, novels, or just things that make you think a bit.  No, I’m not  one of the gloom and doom vampyres of legend.  I’m going to be walking this earth for some time yet and I’m fully aware of it.  I am what I am these days.  Although I did not choose this existence, it was pushed onto me by a very unlikely source, but unlike others I treasure each moment I have.

I’ve touched and had my life touched by so many wonderful people.  Not just the stars I met back in vaudeville, or the heroes I met out on the battlefields, but everyday people and I thank them for it.  The ones who’ve come and gone, as well as those who are still with me now.  Yes, I’ve said goodbye to a good many friends over the decades, but there are always new people entering one’s life that you can share and experience so much with.

In my hundred and fifty… correction hundred and sixty-seven years on this planet (I always forget to count my life before the change) I’ve seen so much.  How many people can claim they saw the first silent films?  Or heard the first radio broadcasts?  I encountered and even got to work on some of the earliest computers when punch-cards were the high point of technology.

Plus I got to watch man reach the moon and take his first steps onto that barren alien landscape.  And there are so many years ahead of me, which both fill me with wonder and a slight dread.  For unlike vampyres of legend I do age, albeit at a much slower rate.  I was only seventeen when I was changed and these days I barely look thirty.  For every ten years that pass for others I age only one.  This means I have a long time ahead of me, but what about when I finally start to reach ‘old’ age?  Will I start to turn grey and less able-bodied?  With I spend centuries trapped in a body that is feeble and infirm?  That’ is a frightening prospect, that I try not to think too much about.

There’s still so much about my condition I don’t know anything about.  In spite of twenty years spent getting degrees in botany, anatomy and physiology, and several other sciences, there’s still so much to learn.  Luckily, science continues to move forward and I can always go back and take more classes and learn more about the new discoveries that may help me fully understand what I’ve become.  And that’s something I actually look forward to.

I love taking classes and learning new things.  I’ve taken all kinds of classes over the decades including art, dance, languages, mathematics, writing, etc.  Learning can be so much fun.  I meet new people and get introduced to new ideas and skills.  Life is a wondrous thing and whether you have only one life-time or many what you do with your time can be very enriching.  It all depends on the individual.

And right now, this individual feels like stepping out for a while.  I’ll come back here later and start working on one of my unfinished canvasses.  There’s one in particular I’m very eager to get back to.

I’ve already put it on an easel so it can be waiting for me when I get back.  It’s a portrait of a young girl with flowing black hair and the most amazing brown eyes.  I can never forget her eyes.  They saw through me like no other and loved me for who AND what I am…

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Nathaniel’s Blog March 19th, 201- “An Evening With Family”

bookstore front

Finally got back into town after several weeks of book signings. Of all the things I’ve done over the years, I thought becoming a writer of novels would be the least demanding.  Boy was I wrong.  Writing the books was one thing.  I made my own hours, wrote when I felt like it, etc.  That was all well and good.  No one told me about the other half of the equation.

Finding an agent to represent me was a bit of an issue for a while, but I had time on my side and I eventually got one.  Then having them pitch and find a publisher was a bit of a wait, but nothing I couldn’t handle.  Once we found one and their editors got a hold of the manuscript, then things started to change.  Seeing my oh so wonderful pages come back covered in so much red I had to run to my ‘supply room’ just to make sure I hadn’t spilled any bags on the pages without realizing it.

Mind you, the day I got to see my first book on the shelves at the bookstores and online, was a real thrill.  It got even better when I found out it made the NY Times Besteller list.  I was so proud.  My hard work had paid off and I could sit back and relax while planning out the next installment in the series.

That’s when reality decided to come knocking at my door, and it brought it’s buddy ‘The Learning Curve’ along with it.

The demands for book signings and the interviews started pouring in.  It wasn’t easy getting people to understand I rarely do daytime appearances, and even those I keep short and sweet.  I have to glut my cells with fresh blood in order to handle the exposure, even at a minimum.  Unfortunately, this gives me a very ‘pink’ complexion that people often comment on.  I usually tell them I got a bad sunburn the day before.  Actually it’s partly happening right at that moment, but I can usually last a few hours so long as I’m not in direct sunlight. I learned this little trick decades ago out on the battlefield, but I also learned the downside of too much blood and the nasty side effects it could have.  It’s a delicate balancing act, but I’ve learned how to maintain a balance.

Anyway, with the latest round of publicity for the newest installment of my ‘Love Across Time’ series out of the way, it felt good to come back here and spend time with my godchildren.  Or rather, this particular set of godchildren.  Lord knows I’ve got a number of them out there, including a few overseas.

But, Brian and his family are rather special to me.  Their ancestors were friends of my family before I joined the Union Army.  One of my best friends was David Weston.  We fought and nearly died together several times.  He became highly decorated and became my captain in time, or rather just in time.  It was shortly after his promotion that I… became what I am.  I confided in him what had happened and he helped keep my secret by assigning me to night duty and scouting missions.

fallen soldier

When David fell at Gettysburg, I had myself listed among the fallen and came back here in secret to break the news to his widow Madeline, who was expecting at the time.  She had braved the lines to be near him and had been sent back home after becoming pregnant.  Upon hearing the news she went into labor and I was all she had available to help her with the delivery.  Long story short, I managed to keep my own needs in check while I helped deliver the first of my many godchildren.  Although, that boy, also became my step-son, two years later.  But that’s another story.

In any case, you can understand my attachment to this family, who also consider me one of their own.  Especially, Brian’s children Lisa and Geoffrey.  In spite of a thirteen year difference, Lisa is very attached to her baby brother.  Who sometimes attaches himself to me with a vengeance.  Like tonight.

He’s been well-behaved, but I couldn’t help noticing how he keeps watching me intently.  As if he’s hoping for something, but is afraid to ask.  I can’t figure out what he wants though.  I did the ‘money-shake’ thing with him as soon as I came in.  He loves being turned upside down and watching coins suddenly rain down around him.  I used to do it to his sister too, until she complained she was too old for that sort of thing.  Too bad.  I was going to start using dollar bills in her case.  Oh well.

Anyway, we’d just finished dinner and were sitting in the living room when Geoffrey finally comes up to me and asks, “Are your feet going woof yet?”

It takes me a moment to realize what he means.  I got into the habit of using a phrase from the 1930’s to complain about being on my feet too much.  The last time I did it in front of little Geoffrey, I’d used a little of my shape-shifting ability to produce two smaller versions of my ‘Black Dogs’ to play with him.  Poor little guy is allergic to dogs, which is sad because he loves to play with them.

I smile and grab a blanket from nearby.  After covering my legs with it I tell him, “As a matter of fact, my dogs are barking.”  Then I look down and he follows my gaze.

There is movement under the blanket and radiates down to where my feet would be.  A moment later, two black puppy-shaped heads peak out from beneath the blanket.

Immediately, the boy’s face lights up as they bark happily at him and pounce.  Since they’re smaller than what I usually produce, I was able to give them complete bodies this time.  I let them detach from me so they can play with Geoffrey.  As the three roll around on the floor together, Lisa comes to sit next to me.  She knows I won’t be able to move for a while, or at least until her brother gets tired and goes to bed, which will be in about an hour or so.  I hope.

“Would you like to come with me to The Crypt tonight?” I ask her, knowing it will be all right with her parents.  I checked with them earlier.  “It’s Friday so there’s no school tomorrow.”

“YES!” she cries excitedly and kisses me on the cheek.

As she takes off to get ready, I turn to Brian and his wife Mary, “Don’t say I never give you any time off from your kids.  Just make sure you enjoy yourselves.  Maybe you can make me another godchild.”

“No way,” Mary replies archly, “I got my tubes tied after Geoffrey was born.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy going through the motions of making another one,” I smile.

She blushes furiously, but I can tell the idea has a lot of appeal to her.

Behind her, I see Brian grinning broadly and mouth the words ‘Thank you.’

I simply nod and continue to watch Geoff and the puppies at play.  He’ll be good and tired by the time they’re done with him.  The boy will sleep soundly tonight.  An earthquake wouldn’t be enough to wake him up.

It feels good being part of a family, every once in a while anyway.  Maybe, one day, I’ll even let myself settle down and stay put.  The question is where?

My family homestead is nearby.  I know it’s just sitting there empty, waiting for me.  The problem is that there might be another who’s also waiting for me, within its walls.  A person I made a promise to, that I failed to keep…

Civil War House

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Nathaniel’s Blog January 7th, 20– “A Night At The Crypt”

At The Crypt…

 

Brian talked me into taking the night off from transcribing more letters, and going to my dance club.  It’s an older building.  One of many I purchased during the Depression.  Like many I felt the pinch of the stock market collapse, but I wasn’t destroyed by it.  I lost a fair amount mind you, but I never kept all my eggs in one basket.  For one thing gold never goes out of style, no matter how bad things get.  Nor do diamonds and other fine jewels.  Plus I had investments that did not suffer, especially those overseas.  

Not that I’ve had to worry about money for some time.  I don’t have as many needs to spend money on, and I’ve had many jobs over the years which paid nicely.  What can I say, I like to keep busy doing things and learning new trades and skills.  It also helped that my first wife also left me quite well off.  Ah Madeline, even after 110 years I still miss her.  She was a wonderful woman and we enjoyed our time together.  Benjamin Franklin was quite right in his advice to a young man about being with an older woman, I learned so much from her.  Unfortunately, it also meant our time together was not nearly as long as I would’ve liked.

These days however, I’m surrounded by younger women all the time.  Which is only natural.  It’s hard to find someone your own age when you’re a 167.  Many are in their teens, some in their twenties, with the occasional 30 or 40 year old as well.  I admire them all, but keep myself somewhat distant.  Sex is still quite enjoyable, even being what I am.  But I’ve learned to be careful about who I partner up with for the pleasure. 

But tonight, I’m just enjoying the company of the crowd itself.  Love watching excitement and pleasure they get from being in a place where everyone knows they’re safe and can and enjoy themselves.

 

I’ve just finished running the turntables and turning them over to my main DJ “The Scar Man”.  Former gang -banger I met a few years back.  He’s a great guy and helps keep an eye out on  the younger crowd for me.  I prefer things being friendly around my place, not that there aren’t the occasional upsets and punches thrown.  After all, a lot of my clientele are in their teens.  Hormones are running rampant, and status is oh so important.

They mostly patrol themselves, because they know better than to have me intercede. If a weapon comes out, then I’m all over them before they know it.  God knows I’ve been stabbed by or even shot by accident more than once.  Most of the culprits freak out because they can’t believe what they’d just done.  A rare few, don’t care and even make another attempt to get past me.  They learn the hard way.  I make sure they never pull a weapon on anyone ever again, unless their own life or someone else’s is at stake.  I try not to be stupid with my powers.   Not everyone is as long-lived or hard to kill as I am.  

Tonight, I see trouble brewing but of the lesser kind.   

Over in one corner a boy named Teddy is asking the head cheerleader for a dance.  I’ve watched Teddy for a while.  He’s not one of my nephews, but he’s friends with a few.  He’s a good kid, on the quiet side, not good at sports and certainly not a stoner.  So in short, a prime ‘bully’ target.  When he was younger, I heard he cried a lot when he got picked on which led to getting beat up.  Although others intervened on those occasions, he seemed to suffer more than one would expect from a few simple punches.  These days I think I know why.  And now I see the football’s quarterback Cory coming over with a few of his buddies.

He grabs Teddy and gives him a body check that sends him into a couple of chairs.  Teddy hits the ground hard.  I pass through the crowd without their even realizing it.  Not one gyration or step is missed as I pass between the smallest of openings.

I’m standing before Cory and his friends before they can let out their first guffaw.  Their mouths clamp shut instantly.  I glance down at Teddy who is clenching his teeth in pain.  I can tell from here there’s only going to be a bruise or two, but I know what’s really going on.  I had it when I was a kid, only we didn’t have a name for it back then.  

Cory starts telling me that he’d warned Teddy about bothering Sherry, the cheerleader.  They’re not actually dating, but he’s one of those alpha males who thinks they are destined to be a couple.  Someone’s been watching too many movies.

I nod and tell him he’s not in trouble with me.  But I also point out that I know for a fact that he’s been riding Ted since elementary school.  That’s another benefit of being around for so long, you hear a lot of things. “While I’m glad you’ve channeled your more aggressive nature into sports, it doesn’t give you free pass for tormenting those who are ill,” I tell him.

He gives me an incredulous look.  “What are you talking about?  He’s just a drama-queen who likes to have people feeling sorry for him,” he shoots back.

Turning to Ted I ask, “How bad is your Fibromyalgia acting up today?  What are the pain levels like?”

The young man stares at me in shock.  “You know?”

I nod and say, “Of course I do.  Takes one to know one.  I had it back when I was a kid.  I suspect you have too.”

“Yeah,” he tells me looking away.  “It’s been this way my whole life.  They only diagnosed me with it two years ago.  Everyone kept telling me I was a crybaby, or a wimp who needed to toughen up.  My dad kept telling me I needed to be a man.  He never believed me until the doctor’s told him what was wrong.  He still doesn’t, but Mom does.  So do my sisters.”

Behind me I hear one of Cory’s crew muttering, “Shit!  My mom’s got that.”

I reach down and help Ted up onto a chair.  He hurts more than he’s letting on, but I can sense it.  One of the other cheerleaders, comes over and sits down with us.  I remember her name is Tina.  She’s one of the back-up cheerleaders.  She starts telling Ted that she knows where he’s coming from and that she has it too.  Which is why she’s a second-stringer.  Her ability to perform is erratic some days.

I leave them all to sort things out amongst themselves.  A few friendships may arise from this, even possibly a romantic relationship.  Mostly I’m hoping to see tolerance come from this encounter.  Invisible illnesses can be quite a difficult thing to contend with.  Both for the person suffering it, as well as for others to recognize.  

My own father never fully recognized it in me, but I learned to hide it with time.  He wanted a son who was strong and able.  I did my best for years to live up to that expectation.  It was also one of the prime reasons I went to war, besides wanting to protect my friends.  I no longer feel those old pains at least not physically.  But I remember them as well as if they were still plaguing me.  I can’t do anything for the physical pain, Ted is feeling, but at least I may have lessened some of the others he’s known for so long.

I glance back once more.  Cory and most of his crew have moved on, but Tina is still with Ted.  They seem to be getting on pretty well.

Katy Perry’s “Roar” is winding down, so I head over to the keyboard.  A little slow dance music seems to be in order.

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Brian’s E-Journal January 7th, 20–

I’m beginning to think I may have made a mistake in getting Uncle Nathan to transcribe all those letters and journals.  He hasn’t been himself since he started.  I’m guessing that even after a hundred and fifty years some wounds just don’t heal enough.  Though he already told me he’s determined to finish the task.  He really laments all the journals, pictures, and personal mementos  that were lost to him over the last century and a half.  At least in cyberspace they can never be lost.  Plus he really wants those of us who know him to really be able to understand all he’s seen and done throughout his long life.
 
I still find it hard to believe that he’s been around for almost a century and a half.  I don’t mean just the fact that he’s existed all that time, but what he’s seen and done over the decades.  He didn’t just sit around brooding and despairing about outliving all the friends and family he knew.   The man keeps looking ahead, eager to see new things will come.
 
I mean think about it.  Here is a man who has witnessed the birth of movies, television, computers, and so many other inventions that have changed the world.  Plus, he’s witnessed or even been part of historic events, both good and bad.  But that’s just the start.
 
He’s attended night classes at a number college and universities.  I know for a fact that he has at least two doctorates, three masters and I don’t know how many A. A. and B. A. Degrees.  He’s learned to play several musical instruments and is a master of ballroom and modern dance styles.
 
There are photos and posters from the stage and theater.  The man was actually part of Vaudeville, for crying out loud.  He knew some of Hollywood’s biggest names before the movie industry ever even existed.  God knows he’s made so many of us laugh performing some of his old skits, recreating some performances by other legendary figures like Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton, Harry Houdini, Rudolph Valentino (before the movies when he was mostly known for ballroom dance) The Marx Brothers and Mae West to name a few.
 

  

The Marx Brothers had a huge influence on him.  He learned to play the piano from Chico and later the harp from Harpo.  Right now, we’re in ‘The Crypt’ and Uncle Nate’s tearing up the piano in Chico’s style.
 
*Author’s Note: Click here to see Chico Marx in action:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bfIVnzpj1vM
 
While his teacher was well known for polka and classical, Uncle Nate likes to let loose with a mixture of Jazz, Hip-Hop, and others while still using the same finger movements and comedy.   Even the youngest of the Hip-Hop crowd love to watch him in action.  Especially when he uses some of those comedic skills up at the turntables when he sits in for the club’s DJ.
 
He never has to worry about the owner of the place being bothered by his antics, he is the owner.  He acquired the building back during the Great Depression.  “The Crypt” is in the basement and is always open most of the night.  Alcohol is never served.  That came to an end back in Prohibition and he never lifted the ban.  He just wanted a place for everyday people to enjoy themselves.
 
Right now he’s up there getting his and everyone else’s groove going.  I could go on and on about him, but I think it’s better when these things come from him.  Which I’m going to try and encourage.  Transcribing the letters and journals are still important, but so is existing in the present.  This is something he’s taught me and so many others over the years.  I guess that’s why we love him so much and help keep his secret.  At least half of the club’s visitors know and keep quiet.  They also donate regularly so there’s always a supply for him in the refrigerators.  He only takes from people directly on rare occasions.  But that’s an entry for another day.  Right now, he’s stepping over to the piano and cutting loose there, and my feet are itching to get on the dance floor with my wife and children.  Even at forty we know how bust moves with the best of them.  Uncle Nate taught us the importance of always moving with the times and living our lives to the fullest.
 

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Nathaniel’s Blog – “Letter From My Father Nov. 1861”

 November 12, 1861

My Son,

     Know that we are in receipt of your letter from October 30th and were relieved to hear you remain in good health.  I am grateful, you addressed the letter to me and not your mother.  Some of the details you shared within those pages would’ve alarmed both her and your sister to no end.  I’m pleased to see that all my years of lecturing you about the wisdom of foresight were not wasted. 

      Word of illness spreading among regiments and even within forts have reached our ears, so I was very glad to hear you have been fairing better than some of your fellow soldiers, was welcome news indeed.  In sharing your letter with your mother and sister, I left out many of the details of your last encounter with the rebels.   Although I suspect, you had already not shared all that you could even with me.   

 I pause for a moment as I stare at those words.  He knew me so well.  Often people told me how much I was like him, but in this case it was my mother who taught me to hold certain facts back from him.  As proud and firm a man as he was, my father could be very sensitive.  I see this in the next paragraph when he speaks of Roger, my best friend since childhood.

Allow me to express my deepest sympathies for young Roger’s passing.  Yes, word reached us about what happened.  You may receive a letter from his family expressing their gratitude for your staying at his side, while under fire until the end.  I will never forget all the time you spent with him as children, fishing, playing, getting underfoot.  The two of you were inseparable.  Pray take heart that a part of him will always be with you, and will hopefully be watching over you in the days to come.

 See what I mean?  He didn’t always express himself so warmly, but I always knew it was there.  Perhaps, it was concern for my sister that had put him in an especially sensitive mood when he wrote me on this occasion.

The effects of your sister’s illness still plague her.  I regret not telling you sooner, but shortly after you left her condition worsened.  She had contracted the Scarlet Fever which had claimed so many children in the past two months.  Luckily, she survived, but is still very weak.  Not an uncommon thing for a child after suffering such a dangerous illness.  The doctor says there may have been damage to her heart, but time will tell.  

God how I wish the man had been wrong.

Know that she continues to ask about you and looks forward to all your letters with great anticipation.  She maintains high hopes that you will indeed be back next month in time to share Christmas.  In spite of all that I’ve been hearing, I share that hope as well.  Your mother and I pray this conflict will end as abruptly as it started and we can be a family once more.

      Until that time comes, do take care of yourself my son.  Your mother will be sending a package of food, blankets and more clothing shortly.  Do not bother sending your pay home to us, for you know very are quite well off.  Spend some of it on your fellow soldiers who are not as fortunate.  Remember the teachings of our Lord and may he bless and keep you safe.

 Write again soon.

 Your father,

D. Steward 

 Even after all these years, the mention of my sister’s bout with Scarlet Fever still hits me hard.  I remember using some of the pay I had on me at the time to buy my sister a new doll and some pretty things.  At the time of her illness, the first antibiotics were still another decade or two away.  Burning the patients clothing, blankets and any personal items they kept near them was the standard practice at the time.  Although I also knew my parents would’ve replaced a number of items for her, she favorite doll and stuffed toys that I had given her would’ve been thrown into the blaze.

I’m glad I acted so quickly.  For just two weeks later I received a letter from her…

A hand falls on my shoulder.   “Uncle Nate?  I think you’ve done enough for tonight,” Brian tells me.  “Why don’t we go to ‘The Crypt’ for a drink or two.”

I catch the tone in his voice that says ‘You need it!’

He’s right.  I do.