vintage
Vintage content about families throughout history; all about ancient ancestors, heirlooms, royal families and beyond.
Kid Law
Kid Law S. Hileman Iannazzo 8/12/2021 “1...2..3...Red Light!” I shouted with my back towards the other kids, I turned quickly to see if anyone was still moving, thus eliminating them from the game. No luck. I turned my back on them once again. “1...2...3...Green Light'' This time I can hear the rushed footsteps of a dozen or so kids racing towards me. I didn’t even get to yell ‘Red Light’ again before Jamie bolted past me, effectively winning the game. We all knew Jamie was the fastest of all the kids in the neighborhood, and after the required debate on whether or not he cheated, we collapsed on the stoops and curbs that made up our playground. It was summertime, the days were long and hot, and the rag tag group of kids that gathered outdoors in the projects were glad for it. Anything beat going to school, that we all agreed on. If it got too hot, we’d scrounge up a quarter somewhere, grab a towel and walk up to the state pool where 25 cents let you swim all day in a crowded oversized pool with two looming diving boards, two teenage life guards, and a hundred other kids all pissing in the heavily chlorinated water. Looking back, it was money well spent.
By S. Hileman Iannazzo4 years ago in Families
The Southern Cross
It’s dark before the Americans leave. They are four young chaps with shiny white teeth and the shortest hair I’ve ever seen. Before they go, they give Mum a list of all the stuff they’ve delivered. Among the stuff that's listed, there are beds, mattresses, sheets, tables, chairs, a lounge suite, knives and forks and plates. You name it, it’s there. And the Yanks tell her there’s no hurry to return it all.
By Andrew M May4 years ago in Families
The Bull's Run
Sitting on the swing under the majestic maple tree one sunny Saturday afternoon, Grandpa once told us the tale of the bull that found his way home from the county fair and crashed a birthday party. Grandma still had a photo Great-Grandma had snapped that day of Grandpa milking one of the dairy cows while Great-Grandpa supervised, casting his shadow in profile on the side of the cow. Chores had to be done regardless of the afternoon bedlam and it was his turn to milk the cows. It was the week of the county fair and Grandpa and his brothers and sister had taken their show animals to the fairgrounds, including one young bull they were going to try to sell. Fair week was always an exciting time during the summer. It was a time to see family and friends during the long break from school and the parents usually took vacation from work so they could be there every day and help prepare the livestock for showing. Fortunately, the county fair grounds were only a few miles from their home and they could take turns going back and forth to feed the pigs and chickens, water the garden, and milk the cows. There is no vacation from chores and caring for the animals at home and running a farm. The week of the fair had been a blast for all the kids and the adults. There were carnival rides and games of skill in a big oval near the grandstand. The side shows were there, too, including a haunted hall, a house of mirrors, and the freak show in a tent at the end. Thursday night, they each got a dollar to spend on rides and games and shows. The kids had also saved their earnings and allowances for spending money the rest of the week.
By Thomas Durbin4 years ago in Families
Learmonth
It’s the middle of winter and it’s ninety-three degrees. We’ve been boxed inside a MacRobertson Miller Airlines Fokker Friendship for the best part of a day, only to end up in the middle of nowhere. It’s Thursday, the 8th of June 1967, and I’m just seven years old.
By Andrew M May4 years ago in Families
Saving Lace
My head screamed, “What?” as I looked at the photos text to me. Theresa had sent me a photo of the lace curtains she once tried to sell. She had taken down the plaid curtains in her living room and staged her window with the lace ones for the photo. The delicate lace looked romantic as the sunlight behind the pane illuminated a soft glow to the photo. I replied, “Looks great.” I was impressed with the time she was taking to stage the curtains for the photo but I also knew how much those curtains had meant to her.
By Angela Grout4 years ago in Families
The Flower Kettle
Yellow-orange and rust-red leaves were falling from the majestic maples in the yard and the garden was barren except for the pumpkins and ornamental corn Grandpa had planted for Halloween. The last of the dried heads of the marigolds Grandma had planted in the old salt kettle awaited picking. The seeds were saved each year and planted the next after nature awakened from the slumber of winter. The salt kettle was a relic from a bygone industry, one of the first that European peoples engaged in when they arrived in the area that is now known as Vermilion County. Both our Native American and our European ancestors have long histories here and the evidence is recorded in the artifacts and nature around us. It would be fantastic to hear all the tales the old salt kettle would tell if it could talk as well as all the stories told around it.
By Thomas Durbin4 years ago in Families
Crocheting-Connecting Past, Present And Future
My Great Grandmother grew up on a farm in Iowa. I have never been to Iowa and, I never met her. I inherited her crochet needles and like, my Great Grandmother, I have created beautiful blankets and crocheted animals with those same needles. I can imagine my great-grandmother crocheting the afghan that she passed down to me. Crocheting has been a way to relax and revitalize for the women in my family for centuries. It is an ingrained pastime that we have enjoyed for generations.
By S. L. Kirby4 years ago in Families
Minnie and the Bull
A field of tall grass and marigolds stood between the picnic table and the line of woods at the edge of the property. ‘It’s a fairytale meadow!’ Emmaline would say as she danced with her seven sisters every sunny Sunday afternoon. This was their favorite place to enjoy their one day each week without chores on their family’s farm. Dressed in their Sunday best, little prairie dresses with small flower print and full calf-length skirts, they would spin and spin, letting the air fill their skirts up into little puffy ballet tutus. They’d spin for so long that they’d become dizzy, falling over into the marigolds together, laughing. Emmaline, the youngest at age five, would watch her skirt with intense concentration, waiting for it to turn into a little hot air balloon and carry her off into the skies of her imagination. Sometimes, when she thought hard enough, she would feel it start to happen, lift off, a sense of weightlessness, excited for this adventure away from reality; she’d close her eyes tightly, preparing to open them and be in the air, floating above a meadow of unicorns, a forest of fairies, and a valley of magical unknowns ready to be explored. Then she’d hit the ground next to her sisters, yellow and orange petals surrounding her, thrown into the air from the force of their bodies falling back to earth, grounding their sundress-clad physical forms moments before their minds would rejoin them. She’d feel mild disappointment before laughing when the butterflies returned to her tummy and the happiness and giggles of her sisters brought her back to her favorite place in the world. Why would she want to float away from it all anyway, she’d think. Weaving marigolds and dandelions into little crowns and dancing the day away was the best use of a sunny afternoon that Emmaline, or any of her sisters, could imagine after all.
By Joanna Langemak4 years ago in Families
A Year
I went without shoes today. It's April and you can see the grass through the limp snow now. It still feels like leprechaun spears in your toes. I got the mail in bare feet and skinny legs like sticks under my hand-me-down dress. I didn't have any clean underwear so I didn't wear any. Mama was cleaning the bathtub so she didn't know I was without shoes. And because I'm seven and a half and I dress myself she raised her eyebrows about the hand-me-down sun dress. I failed to mention the underwear. I didn't get anything in the mail.
By Candice Lango5 years ago in Families
The Way It Was
For as long as I can remember, it sat there, on the charming, oak, side table in my mother's bedroom. The corners were folded crisply, forming razor sharp points. Perhaps that was one of the ways she intended to keep its contents out of prying children's hands, but it hadn't always worked.
By Sydney Chapman5 years ago in Families
