Nathaniel's Blog July 23rd, 2014 - 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 who like to 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.  

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...

Nathaniel's Blog March 19th, 201- "An Evening With Family"

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.  

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...

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 and looks 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.

Brian's E-Journal January 7th, 2005

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 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.

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 fall's 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.