An Entry From The Private Journal Of Doctor Jack Tyler - September 2nd, 201- Part-II

Nathan turns and sees me.  He waves and smiles, as does my mother, then they go back to their talk.  Meanwhile, my children notice the fox who has started racing around my feet again, and come over to investigate.  As they draw near I kneel down and my furry companion flops down on his back and allows me to give him a belly scratch.

My son and daughter gasp in awe, and in that moment, I have become the coolest dad ever.  Or so I believe until several smaller foxes, come out of hiding and begin to start yipping and getting rambunctious around me.  I start to pet them as well, but there are simply too many.  Inside my head I hear, 'Too much?'  Glancing over at Nathan I gesture with my head towards my son and daughter.  

He nods and soon the little kits are frolicking around my children, who proceed to pet them every so gently.  I'd seen enough kids come into the surgery with bites and scratches from family pets or stray animals, so Cheryl and I made sure Joe and Darlene understand how to behave around animals, even friendly ones.

My little friend suddenly abandons me and heads over to where my mother is standing, and begins to demand attention from her.  The smile on her face as she bends down to comply is priceless. 

A voice from behind me asks gently, "She's doing well?"

"Very well," I reply without turning around.  I don't want to take my eyes off my mother at that moment, for fear I might suddenly wake up and find that I'm still only sixteen and that she's still fighting a losing battle with cancer.  

I had cut out of school early that day.  The news that she wasn't responding to the treatments had been devastating.  I couldn't eat, think or control my temper.  At one point I came close to putting a freshman through a wooden door during second period.  I can't even remember why I did it, I just know it happened.  Three teachers had to pull me off the kid and had ordered me to go to the principal's office.  Needless to say I didn't go.  Instead I ran all the way here, to this very spot, and collapsed.  

I cried, punched the ground, cursed life the works.  It was so unfair.  Why should my mother be given a death sentence.  Where was the justice in that?  Why weren't the doctors doing more for her?  Why couldn't they save her?  

Exhausted from my rage I fell asleep and woke to find night was already closing in.  I remember seeing a full moon through the branches of a tree.  It was so beautiful, for  moment I forgot my pain and wished my mother was there to see it with me.  She loved looking up at the night sky.  Then I remembered she wouldn't be able to do that for much longer, and it all came flooding back.  

That was when the fox showed up.  Apparently, she had been watching me for some time and could sense my distress.  She wanted to come closer, but was afraid.  But then a mist slowly crept across the forest floor.  It seemed to swirl and move towards us as if it had a mind all its own.  The fox was alarmed at first but then after sniffing the air, she seemed calmer and more confident.  That was when she came over and started to sniff and nuzzle my hands.  

I was so amazed at this behavior, that I forgot that it was a wild animal and gently stroked her fur.  She seemed to like it, and soon climbed into my lap.  Tears filled my eyes again, partly from the gesture and partly from my pain.  

At that moment I so wanted my mother to be there with me, healthy and whole, so she could enjoy this wondrous moment.

I must have spoken aloud because a voice came out of the mist which continued to hang around in the area.  "The treatments aren't working, John?"

Startled I looked around but saw no one.  Yet I knew I was not alone.  "No, they aren't.  I'm going to lose her and there's nothing I can do about it." I cried back.  "Doctors and their medicine suck!"

"You know that's not true," the voice said softly.  "They're trying everything they can to save her and you know it."

Sobbing I nodded, "Yes, I do know that.  But it's not enough."

Then from out of the mist I saw a hand followed by a figure that seemed to slowly solidify in the mist.  Soon the owner of the hand stepped out of the fog and I saw it was Nathan.  

To say I was taken aback by his entrance would be an understatement.  He was no stranger to me, I'd known him since I was little.  My mother always introduced him as a friend of the family who was always welcome in our home.  But something about him never seemed quite right to me.  Oh he was friendly and always a lot of fun, but deep down I always knew there was more to him than met the eye.  And here, in my darkest hour, I had found out I was right. 

Oddly enough, the realization actually made me feel more at ease with him.  Even as he sat down beside me, I wasn't the least bit afraid of him.  

"You're not human," I blurted as he reached over and petted the fox who was still in my lap.

"Depends on your point of view," he replied calmly.  "I was born human, but then life took an unexpected turn and I became something more."

For a while I didn't say anything.  A faint hope had started to rise within me, but I was terrified of letting it get grow too much.  But at that point there was no stopping it, and I asked, "Is there anything you can do for my mother?  Can you keep her from dying?"

I remember he looked at me from the corner of his eyes for a moment, and then said, "Yes and no," he answered.  "I can't stop her from dying because we all do that one day, but I can give her more time."

"How much more?" I asked carefully.

"Fifty-sixty years, possibly longer," he answered.  Then he gave the fox a scritch behind the ear saying, "You're a good girl.  I appreciate you keeping my young friend company."

Suddenly a thought occurred to me. "You made her come to me, didn't you?  You're controlling her somehow."

Nathan frowned at that.  "I do not control others," he corrected.  "I create a bond by placing a little part of myself inside them.  Once I'm there, I can make suggestions or help alleviate any fears or misgivings they have."

"Is that what you'd be doing with my mother?" I asked.  

He thought about this for a moment and answered, "Yes and no.  Yes, some of me would be going into her, but not like what I did with our friend here.  My body produces a certain kind of cell that can be harvested and used to help fight things like cancer.  But it takes me a long time to grow those cells in enough numbers to make a difference.  Once they've been taken from me, I won't be able to help anyone else the same way for a few decades."

"Will it hurt?" I asked.

"Nah, she won't feel anything but better," he assured me.

"I meant you," I clarified and waited.  He didn't answer right away, which told me everything I needed to know.  "I thought so," I continued, "But you're willing to do it for her?"

"Of course."

"Why?"

"Because I've watched over her all her life, just as I did her mother and her mother's father," he replied.  "They've all been family to me."

"But you're not related to us," I pointed out.  "You told me so yourself a long time ago."

Here he smiled and said, "Family isn't always about blood.  Sometimes families are formed in other ways.  They're formed by people who become close by always being there for one another.  By caring and loving.  Weathering storms and making sure no one gets left behind."

"I think I understand," I told him and asked, "When will you get your cells 'harvested'?"

"Tonight," he answered.  "A friend of mine is coming into town and we'll be taking care of things down in the cellar of The Crypt."

"I'd like to be there for you," I told him. 

He smiled and took my hand, "I'd appreciate that..."

"Jack?"

I opened my eyes and saw Nathan eyeing me curiously.  "Are you okay?"

"Sorry, I wound up taking a trip down memory lane," I told him.  Then I looked over to where Cheryl had been setting out the food.  Everything was ready.  My mom was already helping serve the food, and calling to my kids to come and get it.  

They obeyed, but with great reluctance.  The two of them had been having a lot of fun with the foxes, who were now hovering nearby, with high hopes for a handout or two.  

"When did you 'influence' them?" I asked Nathan as we went over to join my family.  

"I didn't," he replied.  "They've just gotten used to me.  I always come here when I visit, and I think some of them are descended from our friend back when you were in high school.  She brought her kitts out to meet me.  After that they always come out to greet me and did the same thing with their broods."

I laughed, "You have extended families all over the place, don't you?"

"And they come in all shapes and sizes," he smiled.

"Do they ALL know about you?"

"Most of them," he replied.  "I usually hold off telling them until they hit a certain age."

"I think Joe and Darlene are old enough," I tell him.  

Nathan looks up into the night sky for a moment and says, "After we eat.  It looks like a good night to stretch my wings."

Out of the corner of my eye Cheryl gives me a wide-eyed look.  'Is he going to tell them?' she mouths at me.  

I nod. 

She gives me a wide smile.  I know she's remembering when Nathan shared his secret with her.  He took her up with him.  I can hardly wait to see what he does with my kids.

An Entry From The Private Journal Of Doctor Jack Tyler - September 2nd, 201-

 *Greetings one and all.  Today I take great pleasure in introducing you to yet another character from "The Vampyre Blogs - Coming Home".  Meet Doctor Jonathan "Jack" Tyler, or Doctor Jack as everyone calls him.  He's another member of Nathan's extended family, as well as a dear friend to Brian and his family.  Jack of course knows Nathan's secret and being the town surgeon, keeps a good supply of blood on hand for him.  But Jack didn't always know about Nathan, and he's here to tell you all how he found out.  I hope you enjoy meeting him and hearing his tale...

Things were busy at the clinic today, as they've been most of the week.  With the start of school there were a lot of last minute immunizations, check-ups, summer sniffles and whatnot to deal with.  Things should quiet down for a bit, but soon it'll be cold and flu season again.  Then of course there'll be the holidays, not that I mind.  I love helping decorate the clinic with my staff.  I'll also get to help with the decorations at home as well, but that won't be for a few weeks. 

God I love this time of year, seeing all the leaves turning it's as if mother nature whipped out her most vibrant paints and started dabbing at the trees.  Looking up I saw the sun was already setting and quickly got into my car.  From there I drove out of town and soon found myself driving down some the most beautiful country roads, bordered by forest on both sides.  

Turning down a well-known side road, I headed deeper into the woods until I started seeing cars dotting both sides of the street.  But I could see people heading back to their cars.  Not many folks like to wander the trails after the sun started going down, but me and my wife love it out here.  I manage to find a good spot to park near where the street actually ends in a wide circle, designed so folks can turn around and head back the way they came.  There's also a fence with an opening that puts your right on the walking path that leads into the woods.   

Getting out, I recognized a number of my patients and neighbors.  This is a popular stretch of woods and in autumn, none of us can get enough of this area.  As I make my way down the picturesque path I'm transported back to another time, some thirty years ago, when my life had taken a much darker outlook. My mother had been diagnosed with cancer, and suddenly my world of popularity on and off the playing field had become so meaningless...

My ruminations are suddenly interrupted by the appearance of a red fox who is standing in the middle of the path a dozen yards ahead of me.  The animal is looking at me and cocks its head in a curious fashion.  There had been a fox back then too, I remember. 

The animal starts to swish its tail excitedly and then proceeds to trot towards me, stopping occasionally as if to check me out.  Finally, when it's just a few feet away, it gets excited and then races around my legs and then starts heading off to the path.  It pauses briefly to stare at me and I just know I'm supposed to follow him, which I do.  

Soon, I find myself deeper in the woods, listening to the crunching of the leaves beneath my feet, as well as enjoying the canopy of gold, red, yellow and green  above me.  I also keep track of my guide who keeps stopping to make sure he hasn't lost me.  As we venture deeper into the woods the sounds of a running water reach my ears and I know for sure where I am and who's waiting for me. 

We come to a clearing that overlooks a large stream with a waterfall just off to my left.  Ahead of me there's a big blanket spread out with my wife Cheryl setting out plates.  My son and daughter, Joe and Darlene are with her.  While over by the edge of the stream stands my mother and the man who saved her, Nathan.  Although she's still in her late sixties, I have to admit she's still a fine looking woman.  The fact that she wouldn't still be here if not for our family friend and guardian, has never been lost on me or my wife.  She and I had been high school sweethearts and I'd nearly pushed her away when my mother got the cancer diagnosis, but Nathan kept me from losing her as well.  

He'd found me in this very spot all those years ago and given me hope when I thought there was none to be found anywhere.  That was the day he'd also shared his secret with me and showed me that even when life throws you what seems to be the ultimate curve ball, that hope can appear out of that darkness if you just keep your eyes open.  

I look up and see the sun is fading.  Soon the stars will be out.  I wonder if tonight will be the night that Nathan shares his secret with my children?  A part of me hopes so.  The truth can be frightening, but it can also be wondrous as he showed me that lonely autumn night so long ago...

TO BE CONTINUED...

I Wish To Interrupt This Blog With An Important Question...

I've been having a tough time getting a completed 1st draft of "The Door" finished by the end of this summer as I originally planned.  The story is coming along very nicely, however I had planned on releasing it in late September/early October, which is becoming less and less likely.

Furthermore, I had already planned on releasing "The Vampyre Blogs - Coming Home" in December to catch the holiday crowds.  

So I would like to know how you would feel about a "Double-Release" in December?

I have been hearing from a number of people who have been clamoring for one or both books, and I'm perfectly at ease with the idea of releasing both at or around the same time.  

Furthermore, I want to let you all know that I've already got at least one other book lined up for the middle of next year, so you won't have to wait long for another installment.  

Please leave your thoughts on this idea in the comment section below.  Your opinions are important to me, so please take advantage of this opportunity to express your feelings and wishes.

Thank you.

Nathaniel's E-Journal October 2010: A Stroll Down The Hollywood Walk of Fame and Memory Lane...

 Today I signed my first contract with a movie studio.  Who'd have thought it.  After five years of writing, rejections, publishing my first short story and then several novels,  one of my works is going to be made into a movie.  It's been a heady experience, even for a guy who's been around for so long.  

I didn't have to come all the way out to here to Hollywood to do the signing, but I wanted to.  It had been a long time since my last trip out here and I wanted to see how much things had changed.  

As usual I waited until evening to make my pilgrimage and began exploring the streets.  Eventually I found myself wandering down the Walk of Fame.  I hadn't even realized it at first, which goes to show how much my head was still in the clouds from my movie deal.  But when I did notice I couldn't believe whose name was on the star at my feet.

For a moment I couldn't move and had to fight back the red-stained tears that wanted to come.  But I knew a man crying blood would really cause a commotion, or a land me a movie role with my luck. so I held them back and just kept staring at the star.  

I remembered the first time I saw him on stage.  It was my job that night to man the 'crook' (the comedic giant hook) to pull acts that were bombing off the stage (which I sometimes hated).  I never liked seeing anyone fail, bu sometimes it was for the performers own good.  You never knew what might get thrown at you instead of a rotten tomato.  The crowds could get pretty ugly some nights.

But on this night I was told that the performer wanted it to be used.  So I did as I was told.  Next thing I knew this big, heavy fellow came out on stage and began singing and oh what a voice he had.  It was so lovely, but some people in the crowd started booing and tossing things onstage.  I didn't know it at the time, but those people were put there by the stage manager, so Mr. Arbuckle could dodge and tease as he continued his song.  The man was so nimble I couldn't believe my eyes.  It was like watching someone moving on air, especially when he danced.  I was so transfixed I almost forgot to do my job and try to use the oversized hook to get him.  But I remembered just in time and almost got him... almost.  The man somersaulted out of the way and wound up in the pit with the musicians, making the audience go wild. 

Afterwards, I went to find the fellow to congratulate him on a fantastic performance.  As I searched for him, I asked one of the other performers where I could find the man.  I hadn't caught Roscoe's name and had to describe him to which the fellow I was asking said, "Oh you mean Fatty, that's what we all call him."

Instinctively, my back stiffened.  I'd known a number of soldiers who got unflattering nicknames, which they hated and I refused to repeat.  Straightening up I said evenly, "The man has a real name you know?"

As soon as those the words left my lips, a voice behind me said,  "Yes I do.  It's Roscoe Arbuckle and I'm pleased to meet you."

Turning I saw the man I'd been seeking who gave me a big warm smile and a hearty handshake.  It was the first of many encounters.  I found Roscoe to have a heart bigger than his frame.  He'd let me help him practice routines and songs, as well as teaching me how to take pratfalls and do comedy.  I had many mentors when it came to learning how to be funny, but Roscoe was the first.  I got so good, he wanted to use me out on stage, but I wasn't ready.  Some of his performances took place in the daytime and of course I could only operate at night.  This puzzled him at first, but later on he learned my secret (a tale for another time) and quickly understood.

But our friendship continued to grow and blossom, as did I under his guidance.  By the time four brothers: Arthur, Julius, Leonard, Milton and Herbert (better known as The Marx Brothers), entered my life I was very well versed in comedy.  However, when Hollywood beckoned we had to say farewell for a time.  He had wanted me to come with him and I readily agreed.  However, the studios insisted on some test footage be shot.  Roscoe knew about my condition by this time and insisted on doing the shooting himself.  So he and I, along with his cousin Al St. John shot a few scenes only to discover that film could not capture my image.  The footage, which I still possess and have carefully had restored, is quite funny.  It looks as thought Roscoe and Al are dealing with an invisible ghost who's handing or tossing things to them.  For a brief while Roscoe thought about using me anyway for such a film, but it would've meant others finding out about what I was so the idea was scrapped and I went back to Vaudeville.

However, Roscoe and I kept in touch regularly and visited each other frequently.  Every so often on a rainy day when he was shooting indoors, I got to visit the set and met his protege' Buster Keaton.  As it turned out I already knew Buster from his early days as a child star when he'd performed with his parents.  

I also got to meet Roscoe's dog and fellow star Luke.  Luke was an English Pitbull who belonged to Roscoe's wife Minta Durfee.  She'd gotten the dog as a bonus from one of her producers after she'd pulled off  rather dangerous stunt for a movie.  Luke was a sweetheart and took to me right away.  To this day I still consider Luke one of the most talented animals I'd ever met.  I often model my 'Black Puppies' after him, especially their behavior.  He was such a fun dog.

Looking down at the star I sighed quietly and said, "Well Roscoe, I'm finally making my mark here in Hollywood.  I hope I do you proud, old friend."  With that I looked around to make sure no one was around or looking at me.  Then I did a few steps from Roscoe's "Butcher Boy" film, remembering how he'd taught it to me, and then took a bow.  

After that I moved on.  But as I did so I heard a faint clapping coming from behind me.  I turned but didn't see anyone.  Not that they couldn't have been hidden someplace, but a part of me liked to think Roscoe was giving me the applause he'd always felt I'd been denied so many years ago.

Nathaniel's E-Journal May 2007 - I'm Now A Published Author

As I sit here typing my mind is still in a whirl.  The idea that something I've written is actually getting published seems unreal.  Then again a lot of things I've done in my long life feel that way.

The first time I stepped out onto a stage in vaudeville to play a part in one of the Marx Brothers routines I felt the same way.  I'd been helping out in their rehearsals and knew the routine by heart, so when Gummo wasn't able to appear with his brothers one night, I was drafted then and there.  I'm proud to say that I did not suffer stage fright, but that was mostly because I had Julius, Arthur and Leonard with me.  I knew they had my back and I wasn't about to let them down.  In a way, it was like being back in the Union Army, where I knew I had a bunch of guys watching out for me just as much as I was keeping an eye out for them.  When we finished our routine they made sure I took a bow with them.  After that I started finding myself on stage a number of times with some of the other acts who knew me pretty well.

But I digress.  As my second semester taking writing classes was drawing to a close, one of my instructors urged me to try and submit a few of my short stories to a few magazines for publication.  This was in March and I trusted my instructor's judgement and with their help I prepared a cover letter, synopsis and a sample of one of my stories.  Needless to say the results were pretty much what I half expected...

Not to say I wasn't a little hurt, but my instructor was like, "Good, now you're really on your way to being an author."  Needless to say I gave her a very curious look, but nodded and kept trying.  Withing weeks the responses, or rather more rejections, came rolling in...

Yet in spite of this, Brian, his family, fellow students, and even other members of the English and Literature faculty kept urging me on.  So I kept at it.  Finally, yesterday, I got a response from of all magazines Playboy, who wanted to publish one of my stories. It was one I submitted on a whim to their college fiction contest last year.  I didn't win mind you, but one of the editors kept it on file because he thought it was really good.  

In any case, somehow they were looking to fill space and he remembered my story and contacted me saying they wanted to run it.  Naturally I said yes so next month, my first published short story will be coming out in Playboy Magazine.  I'm hoping the readers like it, or at least those who read Playboy for the articles, all of two of them.

Still, to have my first published story appear in a magazine of that caliber is an honor.  I'm hoping it will help springboard me into other publications or at least get my name out there.  Or rather my pseudonym Daniel Bachmann.  Bachmann was my mother's maiden name and Daniel was my grandfather's name.   Too many people out there know or heard of Nathaniel Steward over the last few decades who don't know my secret.  So a fake name just seemed more appropriate on this occasion.

So my first published work will be sandwiched somewhere in between naked women and... now I'm jealous.  Time to head out and enjoy some nightlife.  I hear there's plenty of great places here in London, and the lights at night are beautiful.  Who knows, I might get an idea for a few more stories.  Yup... I'm a writer all right.  Always thinking about the next tale.

Nathaniel's E-Journal December 2005 "Much Ado About Writing"

I'm back in "The Crypt" after having attended the last of my two writing classes for this semester... THANK GOD!   It's been a brutal four months but I made it.  Coming down the steps tonight I felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off my shoulders.

When the semester began I thought taking creative and fiction writing classes would be a breeze.  I figured after spending the last sixty years earning two Master's Degrees, a Doctorate and half a dozen Associates and Bachelors I'd be used to writing by now.  But I was wrong.  Oh Lord how I was wrong.

The kind of writing I'd done in the past had been all academia.  I'd been taught how to write for an audience of experts in the field who were already familiar with the topics I was discussing.  I was entering a conversation so to speak where I had to find a way to insert my own ideas while acknowledging what had been already learned.  It was less personal and more cold and fact based.

But writing short stories was a completely new experience, and a very rough one at that.

We started writing the very first day of class so the instructors could see where we were at individually.  My first paper came back covered in so much red, I had to go downstairs to make sure my blood supply hadn't accidentally leaked on it before I turned it in.  After I was sure that hadn't happened, I began to wonder whether or not I should invest in red ink stocks before the semester got any further.  At this rate I'd have made my money back and then some just on my homework.

But things started to get better after that.  Both instructors really started breaking things down into plotting, creative thinking, pacing, point of view, voice, and so many other things.  I began to see how important it was to have a good idea of where you were going with a story.  I tried different methods of plotting my stories including the wall method which kind of got out of hand at one point.

Eventually I wound up using a 'loose outline' to help guide me.  I tried the traditional kind of outline where I clearly had everything planned out from start to finish, which worked, but it didn't quite feel right sometimes.  I'd be working a scene where suddenly I'd have a flash of inspiration which I felt would really make the story more exciting, but it would totally break away from the outline I had so painstakingly perfected.  So I discarded the new idea and stuck to the plan, but a part of me would keep wondering "What if I had used that idea?"  To make things worse this kept happening, so I consulted my instructors who told me to not be so rigid and to maybe explore some of those other ideas after I shared some of them.  One told me, "As long as these ideas enhance the plot and still lead to the ending you have in mind, explore them.  It sounds as if you could've really added a new angle to some of your characters and let the reader get to know them more personally."

So I went back to my laptop and began anew.  I slowly began to understand that what I was being taught in the classrooms were tools and guidelines, not step by step "you have to follow these  instructions to the letter or you'll fail" which was the way I'd been taught in my other classes in the past.  Plus, I had to get to know and understand who my new audience was and what they expected of me.  Eventually, I thought back to when I would tell stories about some of my old friends from vaudeville, the wars, and my childhood to others who knew my secret.  Once I started thinking in those terms I quickly found my 'voice' and the words started to come more easily.

Once this happened my grades began to shoot up.  I still wound up with a B in both classes, but that was because I started out so rough at the beginning.  But tonight, one of my instructors pulled me aside and complimented me on how far I'd come in just one semester.  She was really impressed at how I had learned to capture the voices of my characters as well as describe the settings from different eras in history.  "It was like you were really there..." she told me at one point.  Naturally I had to keep my mouth shut on that point, but still it was quite the compliment.

My other instructor advised me to keep practicing during the holidays and to take his next class in the Spring which would be more advanced.   He thinks I might be able to try submitting a few of my short stories by the summer if I keep this up.  So that is exactly what I plan to do in between visiting some of my extended family during that time.  I need to be in Connecticut by Christmas Eve, as Jason and his family will be expecting me.  Plus there are a few others out that way, I can drop in on as I make my way to New York and a few other places along the east coast.

I find myself smiling now as I sit here at my favorite table in my club.  This had been a very rough semester, but I wouldn't have traded it for the world.  Writing has opened up whole new avenues for me both mentally and emotionally.  I'm using my artist's eye to observe what goes on around me, but now I'm using words as well as paints to capture certain moments.  It's wondrous really and I can't get enough of it.  I want to keep doing this for as long as possible.  I have so many stories to tell already as well as the ones I've yet to experience and share.

A part of me is actually rather eager for February to arrive so I can try and take my new skills to the next level.  But I remind myself that I mustn't forget to live in the here and now. For stories are all fine and good, but being able to draw from life makes them extra special.  Not only to the reader to but to me.  So before I write some of those stories I must live and experience them first.

From where I'm sitting I can see the window looking out onto the steps that lead down here.  I can see it's snowing and now I have a hankering to be out in it.  I want to feel the flakes hitting my face and watch how it transforms the neighborhood.  Yeah, it's time to go out and make some more memories and have a bit of fun I can share in my writing one day down the road.

 

Lisa's Private Thoughts July 4th, 20--

Happy 4th of July Everyone!

Tonight's fireworks display was spectacular as always.  I have to say here in Pointer we know how to party.  There was a huge barbecue in the park as always where most of the families converged.  Marisa, me and a few others like Teddy had blast.  There was the annual softball game, frisbees flying everywhere, and the traditional water balloon toss.  And as per usual, the waterballoon game turned into an all out water pistol fight thanks to 'certain' individuals who's name begins and ends with the letter N.  Naturally, Uncle Nathan denies the charges even though he was the one who handed me a couple of the water pistols himself claiming they were "Strictly for self-defense."

He doesn't realize I saw him pull another one out of his costume and nailed Marisa with it.  Then he had the nerve to tell her it was me who started it and then handed her a couple of weapons so she could get even.

Amazingly, he managed to stay dry the whole time.  I think it was the outfit that got him spared. 

Dressing up like Richard Henry Lee, the representative from Virginia who first called for the colonies to break away from England during the Second Continental Congress, was a masterstroke.  No one had the heart to mess up his outfit.  Plus it allowed Uncle Nathan to disappear and reappear throughout the festivities as needed.  I know he had to keep hitting the red stuff in order to stay outside on a hot sunny day like this.  And of course, the guise allowed him to wander among all the families, including those who had no idea who or what he really was.  He does this sort of thing every time he spends the Fourth of July with us, which is like every other year.  

After the great water battle ended, a bunch of us felt like cooling in the shade for a while and headed for the large canopy where Uncle Nate was relaxing.  His face was a bit red so I knew he'd just had another bag or two of blood, which meant he'd be good for another couple of hours.  By then the sun would be setting and things would cool off and he'd be all right.

Remembering he needed to 'stay in character' I asked, "Mr. Lee, how does this celebration compare to the ones that took place years ago?  Have they changed much?"

Smiling he began speaking, "Well, my dear, back in my day the morning would start with artillery fire, which woke up most of the town who hadn't already been up.   Then there'd be some cannon and musket firing a little later and there would be a parade.  There'd be music, marching soldiers, and of course there would be speaker who'd gone on for about an hour or two.  Then the real fun began, at least for the men.  They'd head to a tavern while the women went home and took the children with them..."

At that point I had to butt in.  "Hold it, you're saying the women went back to their drab daily lives while the guys partied?  Am I the only girl here who finds that offensive?"

A loud "NO" erupted from all around me, which pretty much included every mom who was present.

Undaunted, Uncle Nathan continued, "I quite agree ladies.  Which is probably why things started changing around the 1850's.  Then the celebrations became more like what we have these days.  Oh there were still the parades, cannons, and muskets, but then most families would to on a picnic and watch the fireworks at night."

Here he paused and glanced around at his audience which had grown considerably, "We've had fireworks since the very first celebration, for those who didn't know.  And yes, we were careful not to burn down the entire town while doing it.  That's another thing that hasn't changed.  We were very proud of our accomplishment and how our country managed to hang in there and stay together.  Oh we've always had our differences of political opinion and what should and shouldn't be allowed, but America has always managed to hang together.  And that's because the people stuck together.  Here in West Virginia we fought to free people who had been denied their rights to be citizens because of skin color.  As a nation we later fought to keep aggressors from threatening our way of life and that of others overseas, not only once but on many occasions.  America was made up of immigrants and welcomed even more who brought many customs and ideas which became part of everyone's life.  And we have to remember that.  Some people complain about others not learning how to speak, read, or write in English, but not everyone did when we first started out.  Some cannot learn because they're too old or unwell and we have to make allowances for that and remember that none of our ancestors knew the native tongues of those who were living here before WE arrived.  But they were tolerant and tried to understand us because they knew some of us came to escape persecution.  In New York harbor there's a very tall lady who still welcomes everyone who wants a chance at a better life or to escape some kind of threat.  Patience, tolerance and understanding is what she represents as well as a second chance at a better life. May we all remember that and try to live up to those promises."

With that he raised a glass and wished us all a Happy Fourth of July and finished with "God Bless America and all who come to her shores."  Once more everyone cheered and I thought, so this is what the 4th of July was like when he was a boy.  We had a parade, a bit of cannon fire, muskets, a huge picnic, comeraderie and now we'd had a speaker.  A speaker who managed to reach out to his audience and make us really think.  And in a few hours we'd have fireworks.   Yeah, this is what the 4th of July should be like.  Thanks Uncle Nathan.