vintage
Vintage content about families throughout history; all about ancient ancestors, heirlooms, royal families and beyond.
Lost Fortune
Robert sat quietly at the outdoor cafe scanning the New York Times and sipping on the best cappuccino in lower Manhattan. At least that was his opinion, he knew more than one of his Italian friends that would disagree with him. lifting his head from his reading, he folded the Times, discretely tucking a small black notebook between its pages, he leaned back in his chair, he closed his eyes. Taking in a deep breath; he felt relaxed. It had been a while since he was able to get out of the lab to clear his mind. And no better place for that than the city he grew up in, thousands of miles from New Mexico.
By Teddee Cuomo3 years ago in Families
Layla's American Dream
She felt lost. At age 38, Layla had failed to save her marriage, failed in her career path, and felt she was failing her son too. She felt the American dream slipping through her fingers. Her contract was supposed to be renewed, but instead, she and her team were being terminated. She had just refinanced her house, so selling it was not an option. She would soon be crumbling under debt and the prospects of finding a job in the immediate future amid the COVID-19 pandemic were rather slim. She needed cash and fast. Maybe she would sell her car and get a beater until she could land another job in a few months?
By Zainab Senhaji Rhazi3 years ago in Families
The Promise
The realtor’s heels clicked across the rich oak floorboards, “Nobody’s been in this house for years, you sure you want it?” she asks as she turns back to face her buyer. The young man doesn't answer and instead walks over to an object hidden with a sheet and throws it off, it’s a piano and the realtor can see it has had better years. She suppresses a cough from the dust that blew up with the cover and impatiently checks her phone. “Shit” she mutters quietly under her breath, its her son’s school trying to get ahold of her and it’s the 3rd time that week. Since the divorce this past summer, he had been getting into more trouble at school. Her therapist told her it was a way of acting out and she wished again for the thousandth time there was just an easy fix. She didn’t regret the divorce-in fact in made her feel lighter, freer more like herself-but it also came with baggage she didn’t necessarily have the time to deal with. She sighs and then tells the buyer she has an important call to take outside. The buyer gives a nod and finally speaks, “I’ll just take a look around myself.” She gives one last glance at him and offers what she hopes is an encouraging smile, “Let me know if you want to write an offer!”
By Carolyn Hanus3 years ago in Families
Estate Sale
The Chateau de Chambord A castle located in the Loire Valley of Loir-et-Cher (France) was built between 1519 and 1547 CE. The French Renaissance building—impressive in both size and architectural detail, was commissioned by Francis I of France to function as a hunting lodge. This is where the king and his entourage could pursue the abundant game in the surrounding forest. The chateau has several innovative design features which proved influential on other French monumental buildings in the 16th century CE. A company called UNESCO is looking to list Chateau de Chambord as a World Heritage Site. Before this can happen, the castle is scheduled to host its first (ever) estate sell of portraits, paintings and anything that can be carried out by hand.
By R. L. LASTER3 years ago in Families
Secrets from the Porch
Collins knew that Pops left each grandchild a box with items he kept for each one of them to be opened after his death. He found his underneath his grandparents’ with the others and walked to the front porch and sat. The sound of the screen door slamming or the chipped paint on the porch rails didn’t bother him today. Today they brought him peace and if felt like there was still life in the empty house. Pops could have lived anywhere but his neighbors were "his people" and he wouldn't leave them. "I have your favorites here" he heard as he stretched himself over the porch steps. Leslie walked quickly towards him. "It does me good to see you here" she said handing him a paper lunch bag. "I can't believe they are both gone now. Things aren't going to be the same." Collins knew that both his grandparents' passing was devastating to her. She sat next to him holding her head in her hands. "I keep telling myself it'll get easier but when? It was hard when Gloria died but now its final that they're both gone." "I don't know" was all he knew to say. "I don't know. I wish I did." It had only been a month since Pops passed but it seemed like yesterday. They both knew it would take some time. The sound of Collins opening the paper bag broke the cloudy silence. "You always know how to brighten my day" he said as he pulled out a fried bologna and onion sandwich wrapped in waxed paper. Leslie always added mustard and bacon just for him. He set aside the can of soda on the porch behind him. "I'll keep making them as long as you keep coming back" she playfully jabbed him with her elbow driving home her point. She had been making them for him since he was very young. "I guess I'll keep coming back then." His response brought a look of relief and she heard what she needed to. "Don't leave without saying goodbye now. You know you were his favorite."
By Lisa Benoit3 years ago in Families
The Ghosts of Fabbriche di Careggine
Jessa was raised by ghosts. Her great grandfather, Gino Della Nebbia, and his great grandfather, and grandfathers back to the 1200's, had formed a long line of callous-fingered iron workers, farmers, and quarrymen in the Tuscan village of Fabbriche di Careggine.
By Beth Jones3 years ago in Families
Henry's House
December 12th, 1945, Liverpool. - Whoever waits for me here must think me dead, with it being so many months past the war. And perhaps it is better off left as such. I don’t think I’m scared of the answers that are hidden here in England. But I don’t believe in choosing wishful thinking over the promise of a good life with a good woman.
By Lucy Perrin3 years ago in Families
Notes from a Spectre
Regina may have always been searching for something but never as often as in her new apartment. The first floor of a three story townhouse in Savannah was a big score for her. For the last year she’d been enjoying her job as an assistant and caretaker for a surprisingly self sufficient 93 year old. Her employer, Marie, was a widow and a renown antiques expert in French artifacts and pottery. Marie’s daughter, Pauline, had offered Regina the chance to rent this apartment in one of their family’s properties at a steal. She had been refered to Pauline from her manager at the nursing home that had been her first job. The whole family was very nice and Marie was as sharp as a tack even if her body wasn’t keeping up. She occasionally acted as a consultant for museums and antique dealers all over the world, she had even consulted for a popular antiques show.
By Allison Holub3 years ago in Families
The Gift
A childhood home should be a happy place. But as Margaret walked into hers, she could hear the silence haunting the walls and feel the air tense at her arrival. She would have preferred not to come back here, but it had been her mother’s last request — in her last days she had ranted endlessly about what a good man her father had been, and that he had taken care of them — which Margaret had taken to mean there was money in the house.
By Jenny Morris3 years ago in Families
Little Black Book
I was tucked in a corner of my attic, enjoying myself. I’d found a box of my mom’s, filled with notebooks of every shape, size and color. The one with flowers had recipes, like the one for my grandmother’s tamales. The yellow one, poems; the green one was one of six journals. Some had short stories, including my mom’s favorite genre; mysteries.
By Francesca Bozem3 years ago in Families
Lost and Found
I’m tired of mysteries, of feeling like I am all alone in this world. It’s cold in Pennsylvania. The wind blows, sending sleet across the dark blue sky. I desperately huddle by the fire to warm my bones. I hear my aunt plagued with consumption. My home and everything I know shall soon be lost. We can not afford a lot of food and our funds are diminishing. I fear I have become the greatest burden in her life. My schooling seemed wasted on me, the numbers all look strange upon the blackboard and I can not make any sense of them. The kindness she exhibits can not be repaid.
By Melody Golden3 years ago in Families