The Titanic and Vampire Maman – Shared Connections

This morning my eldest brother Max gave my son Garrett his Patek Philippe & Cie Gold Chronometro Gondolo Pocket Watch. The watch isn’t working, even though it is a magnificent time piece. The time had stopped at 2:48. That was when the icy waters of the Atlantic finally got to the inside pocket of Max’s jacket after the Titanic sank. There were seven Vampires on the ship. They all survived in the water like death, but not dead. Five women and two men. They stayed together, but it isn’t a story Max likes to tell. Garrett turned twenty-one on April 1st. Max told him that they could have the watch fixed. In the box was also the jacket Max had worn. Even after all of these years it is a story that fascinates us, and horrifies us. There is nothing like mismanagement and bad communication, and inflated egos to make something go so wrong.

April 14, 2012 is the day I started writing the blog Vampire Maman. It is also the same day the Titanic hit an iceberg and started to sink – April 14, 1912.

April 16, 2012 would have been the 100st anniversary of the docking of the Titanic in New York City, if the Titanic had docked.

I have in my possession a curious bit of history. This one is real. Not fiction. It gave me the chills to read this and copy it for this post.

In a scrap book is a press release that would have gone out if the Titanic had landed safely in New York.

Rather than throwing it out an executive employee of the White Star line put it in his scrap book. And that is where it still is. And here it is…copied exactly word for word from the White Star Line.

______________________

To be released for Publication after arrival of ship, April 16th.

The latest Ocean Marvel White Star’s “Titanic”

Largest Vessel in the World Arrives in New York.

THE ACEM OF LUXURY AND COMFORT – SOME STRIKING INNOVATIONS.

The largest steamer in the world arrived in New York today (April 16) from Southampton and Cherbourg and Plymouth. Larger even than the giantess “OLYMPIC” the new White Star Line leviathan “TITANIC” began her maiden trip under the most auspicious circumstances.

Many wonderful innovations have been made part of this newest of transatlantic wonders. The “TITANIC’S” 66,000 tons of displacement and 46,328 tons gross register are not her sole claim to distinction as the most elaborate handiwork of shipwrights. The “TITANIC” is the first steamer to be built with private promenades in connection with some of her splendid suites. Heretofore the floating apartment hotels, but fall to the “TITANIC” to provide the transatlantic traveler with an actual private residence, even to the exclusive promenade deck without encroachment upon the hundreds of first-cabin voyagers.

The “TITANIC”, like its sister ship, the “OLYMPIC”, possesses the great length of 882 feet, 6 inches, and a beam of 92 feet, 6 inches. Over the boat deck, the “TITANIC’S” beam spans 94 feet even, from rail to rail.

Four great funnels rise 81 ½ feet above the uppermost deck with a total distance of 175 feet from the top of the funnels to the keel.

Fifteen watertight bulkheads divide the great vessel, making her unsinkable even though half of her compartments should be filled with water. Eleven steel decks add to the “TITANIC’S” staunchness while an ideal of the vast promenading space may best be had when it is noted that the main promenade deck alone has an unbroken sweep of 190 yards on either side of the ship.

A Parisian Café and Palm Room are but some of the features of this remarkable vessel which will now enter regularly in the Plymouth-Cherbourg-Southampton-New York service with the “OLYMPIC.”

Besides the main dining salon, which has seating capacity for nearly 600 passengers, there is an a la carte restaurant, French service, which seats 200 passengers. The restaurant features will be especially appreciated by those who do not have the desire to be held to regular hours for dining, for night suppers, dinner parties, etc.

The size of the staterooms is also one of the remarkable features of the new giantess “TITANIC.” Varying from 8 feet to 9 feet, 6 inches in height, they are all roomy. Some of the 2-berth cabins are 17 x 10 feet, 6 inches in size. There are no 4-berth rooms, and a great number of single-berth rooms, 8 ½ by 10 ½ feet, have been provided.

A great swimming pool, squash racket course, gymnasium and the Turkish baths are all closely together on the lower deck, from which elevators carry the passengers to the various upper decks.

As in her sister ship, the “OLYMPIC,” passengers on the “TITANIC” will descent the grand staircase to the main reception room, which, in turn, leads into the great dining salon, from which it is separated by glass. Stretching the full width of the vessel amidships, the main dining salon is light and cheerful, and at night, with its myriads of electric lights, it presents a veritable fairyland.

Describing the gathering of the voyages in the reception room, awaiting the dinner hour, a writer has aptly remarked:

“Upon a dark, richly colored carpet, which will further emphasize the delicacy and refinement of the paneling and act as a foil to the light dresses of the ladies, this company will assemble – the apotheosis surely, of ocean-going luxury and comfort. What more appropriate setting than this dignified Jacobean room, redolent of the time when the Pilgrim Fathers set forth from Plymouth on their rude bark to brave the perils of the deep!”

There screws, propelled by turbine and reciprocating engines, furnished the motive power of the great “TITANIC.” Leaving Southampton and calling at Cherbourg and Plymouth for continental passengers on Wednesdays, she is expected to reach New York on the following Tuesday evening. The two ships will maintain an ocean ferry with regularity of other ferries across a river, for their immense tonnage displacement makes them practically impervious to the elements, no matter how adverse these may be.

The “TITANIC” and the “OLYMPIC,” as instruments of commerce, represent the highest skill and perfection yet reached in naval architecture; and in the struggle for supremacy they will easily hold the place of honor and the historic names that have been given them.

 

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It makes you think. It also makes me feel kind of cold as if the icy waters are calling with the ghosts of those who did not survive.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

 

City of the Angels Part 2: Beauty in the land of the dead

Last Thursday I visited the city of Colma, where almost everyone is dead. Seriously, over a million graves are there with less than 2,000 living in residence. There are no cemeteries in San Francisco – they were all moved to Colma. People and pets are still buried there to this day.

The photos were taken by my friend Amelia who joined Clara and I for the day. Thank you Amelia. These are lovely.

Click here for Part 1.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

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Innocenzio D’Antonio

Innocenzio D’Antonio came to Sacramento in the 1850’s with a troupe of actors to make his fortune. He’d started as an opera singer in his native Italy and unfortunately did not make it into the famous opera houses in Europe, fell in love with an Austrian actress and ended up with her talking him into joining an American theater company touring California during the Gold Rush.

Innocenzio D’Antonio had the voice of an avenging angel, rich and strong. He could certainly sing the corset off of any woman but he was pure of heart and a true and honest lover to his dear Austrian maid. Well at least until she left him high and dry in San Francisco, leaving him for a dashing gambler.

Upon reaching Sacramento Innocenzio D’Antonio noticed a young man singing one night at a party held by a well-known business man. It was odd to him that a child so young should be up so late into the night. But that was put aside when he heard the child’s beautiful voice. The voice was precious beyond compare. It was the voice of heaven and the angels above. It was the voice of all that was good and pure in the world. It brought Innocenzio D’Antonio to tears. And yet, there was something strong and dark about the voice. There was something about the voice that brought the opera singer both to tears and made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

A well dressed man stood next to Innocenzio D’Antonio and said “I noticed you were moved by the sound of the my son Andrew’s singing. Amazing considering he is only nine years old. However, my child could use formal music lessons from a master, such as you. If you’re interested I will pay you well. I have four other children as well. The eldest three could all benefit from your talents Mr. D’Antonio.”

The next evening Innocenzio (as we shall now call him by his first name only) showed up at the elegant home of the child Andrew. He was met warmly by the father and met the rest of the family. The oldest boy was 10-year-old Maxwell, followed by 9-year-old Andrew, then 7-year-old Aaron, then 16 month old Valentine and the infant Juliette. Their mother was a vision of beauty and all that was good and pure. Such elegance in movement in style he had rarely encountered in his lifetime.

Over the next few months he came to look forward to music lessons for the three eldest boys. Maxwell and Aaron had uncommonly beautiful voice, but it was young Andrew who had the voice of an angel sent straight from heaven. Innocenzio thought of how many churches, even those in Rome would give anything to have this voice in their stables of singers. He thought of the great opera houses in Europe that would be mobbed with patrons trying to hear Andrew sing.

Before meeting this most wonderful family Innocenzio had suffered deep waves of melancholia. He’d blame it on heart-break, disappointment or even being cursed, but now, every time he left the home of Andrew’s family, Innocenzio felt as if he were the most content and happy man alive.

After a time the father announced that they would have a party and invite all of their closest friends. Andrew would sing at midnight. Innocenzio thought that was too late for such a young child but the parents brushed it off with a gentle smile. It was difficult for Innocenzio to disagree.

The night of the party was filled with excitement. The large mansion was filled with the most elegant people he’d ever seen. Some he’d met before while out in the evenings around the city and some were stranger. But they all had a certain quiet about them and calm that he had never seen anywhere else, not even in a church or monestary.

The mother, the beautiful mother who still took his breath away when he saw her, asked him to sing. Innocenzio was feeling happy and light so he sang the drinking song from the fairly new opera La Traviata and to his delight the group joined in. They all had good voices. Afterwards they gathered around Innocenzio and congratulated him on his success and welcomed him into their society.

While he was delighted and honored there was a certain sense of unease about him. Innocenzio had a sense that something was about to happen, as if he was a lamb facing the hungry jaws of a lion. A strong sense of fear started to creep into his soul. He was confused and ashamed. After all, he was in the home of people who had become dear friends, a second family almost.

The mother, pulled him aside and put her arm in his. “My dear Innocenzio, my love, do not fear. I know what is in your heart and soul. You know us so you sense that we are different. We are different you know. We’re very different from you.”

Her eyes were the color of a fantasy seascape, her lips perfect, her chestnut hair was loose around her shoulders. He lost himself and took her into his arms and kissed her. His head went light. She stepped back and smiled. It was as if he’d lost his entire heart and more so his soul to her.

“I could take your soul if I wished, but dear Innocenzio, I must tell you a story of my life and of my people.” Then she sat him down and told him the most fantastic and horrific tale he’d ever heard in his life. He was both seduced and repulsed. His senses were confused, his emotions out of control, his body yearning for everything she had to offer.

—————————————————-

2013

Sometimes being a mom is everything, but sometimes I like to have my time with my friends.  I heard the knock on my door and standing there was my dear friend  back from a trip to Europe.

“Juliette” he said with his gorgeous voice, “you are still more beautiful than Venus herself”.

“And you’re still full of crap Innocenzio D’Antonio ” I said with a smile.

“Never,” he said taking my hands and kissing my cheek.

We don’t keep many friends so long, but when we do it is worth it. Every time I see my mother I want to thank her for talking Innocenzio into being one of us.

As Vampires we don’t bring just anyone into our world, but when we do it is magic.

On the other hand, anytime a true friendship forms, even if nobody changes, it is magic and a true joy.

_____________________________________________

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

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Cockroaches of the Space Time Continuum

 

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My mother always said, “Time Travelers are the cockroaches of the space time continuum.”

She should know. They love her. She hates them. I don’t blame her.

Mom is one of those scary alpha Vampires. She is always calm and collected without a hair out of place or a stain on her shirt (something I could never achieve.) She can put the chill of death in anyone but at the same time can seduce and charm like no other. She is a predator through and through.

That said, she has problems with Time Travelers. She attracts them like a possum attracts fleas. Moth to a flame. Freaks to her daughter. All the clichés apply.

Time Travelers are like those pretentious fools who show up at a Civil War reenactment or a Dickens’ Christmas Fair dressed in their Star Fleet Command uniforms (Spock and Kirk) expecting everyone to ohhhhh and ahhhh over them and tell them “You’re so smart. Your mother must be proud of you.” It is only fun for those in the wrong costumes.

Aside from inappropriate behavior, Time Travelers are usually dishonest and traveling with stolen technology. Honestly do you believe a man born in 1959 could have invented a time machine that works? He’ll tell you he did but he more than likely killed the original owner or obtained the machine through other dishonest means. More than likely the time machine wasn’t even from this galaxy (most aren’t).

I know this sounds far-fetched, but walk in my shoes for a 154 years and you’ll see a lot of things the average person would never imagine much less believe in.

Vampires don’t have a problems with the concept of time travel. It is the Time Travelers we don’t like.

Time Travelers, as a rule, come along never clean or dirty enough for the period, their costume and language always wrong, trying to blend in and trying to make things better or worse. Time Travelers think they have high moral compass and know what is right for everyone. They have no idea. There are the few honest historians of the lot…I take that back…the honest ones are only in fiction. The real Time Travelers are sick and twisted individuals who go where they aren’t invited and don’t care who they screw with.

They think they can meet Queen Victorian or Hitler or Cleopatra or Bill Clinton and change the world, or gain riches or power or whatever it is they’re after.

But sometimes I have to admit that I wonder about going back in time. I used to imagine what my parents were like when they were young, falling in love in the 17th century. I wondered what the elders were like 2,000 years ago.

Why mom, you and dad looked great in those clothes. How did you manage to get anything done?

Why mom, you and dad looked great in those clothes. How did you manage to get anything done?

 

I wish I could go back in time and change things with my kids a bit. At least this week. I wish my son had told me about the crappy teachers his sister was assigned to this year (first year of high school.) His excuse is that he had all honors classes and different teachers. I wish I could jump in some sort of space/time machine and see how he’ll do in the different colleges he has been accepted to. His first choice right now is a prestigious college on the coast where he wants to study Environmental Science and minor in Music. His best friend is also considering it. Considering it… the boys have it all planned out. I know it will be a good choice, the right choice, but I’m his mom. I have to make myself sick over these things.

I’d like to see how the pyramids in Egypt were built. I’d like to see the Vampires of the Middle Ages. I’d like to see everything I see in paintings come to life. I mean, wouldn’t we all? Who wouldn’t be curious about it. Who wouldn’t want to see the wonders of the ancient world? Who wouldn’t like to see live dinosaurs standing as tall as a house?

 

It is all just a bunch of strange physics!

It is all just a bunch of strange physics!

So the other night I was visiting with the Elders, Tellias and Eleora at their grand Victorian farm house. My mom had driven up from San Francisco (a city with a large Vampire population) for a visit.

She was curled up on the couch in the parlor wearing jeans and a deep purple cashier sweater set and pearls my father had given her at least 100 years ago. Her chestnut colored hair fell across her shoulders, which I could tell were tense. We look a lot alike except her hair is longer and her eyes are more blue, and she is beautiful in one of those stunning head turning ways.

Tellias was dressed in a black velvet smoking jacket and purple plaid pants. His white blonde hair was tied back today. He looked about 19 but he was well over 2,000.

My mother was complaining that she was getting no rest from the Time Travelers. That must either mean that something is happening, or about to happen or else they were just Hell bent on driving her crazy.

“I’m going to stop this nonsense once and for all,” she said with almost a growl in her voice.

Tellias furrowed his brow at her. “What are you planning on doing?”

“I’m going to change history,” said my mother.

“Samantha you don’t mean to…”

She smiled showing a bit of fangs. “What a tragedy it will be when two seasoned time travelers don’t return home.”

“Good idea,” I said. “Your grandchildren don’t need any crazies screwing up their future.” I thought they could do that all on their own. Then I turned to my ancient friend. “Tellias, when was the first time you encountered a Time Traveler?”

Tellias shrugged. “In Britain, when I was still with the Romans. When I was a Roman. They came in speaking their Catholic school Latin as if we’d understand everything they said, much less believe their ruse. Of course they didn’t fare well.”

“What happened?”

“They had come to see the Romans in Britain and expected to find some simple folks hugging trees and a bunch of gladiators. Oh but the wonder in their eyes. It was far more complex and interesting than anything they’d ever imagined. We were all a lot smarter and sophisticated and free thinking than they were ever taught in their history classes. I warned them to stay near but they went off on their own. By the time we found them one had already been killed by the Romans for being a general pain in the ass and a threat,  and the other two were in bad shape. The woman ended up settling in with the Warlock next door. It was a strange sort of love at first sight situation. The man tried to make the best of it, but he died within a year of an infection related illness. His body couldn’t handle the grime of the time.”

He stopped then called into the next room, “Eleora, what was that Warlocks name we used to live next to, the one who married the Time Traveler?”

Eleora came out, rust colored curls flying around her head, “Her name was Tiffany. Tiffany Green. He was Hamon.”

“Whatever happened to them Eleora dear?”

“She died a few years later in childbirth. Tragic, tragic, tragic. I really did like her. I liked her a lot. She wasn’t like the other Time Travelers. Not so much the idiot. Not mean and stupid. I hear Hamon is still around somewhere. Hamon. Sounds like some sort of cooking term. Put the Ham on before you boil the water. Or an organ. Play some skate music on your Hamon dear and we’ll take a spin around the rink.”

“But,” I asked “Couldn’t you have turned Tiffany into a Vampire so she could have stayed longer?”

Tellias shook his head, “Time travel messes with your system. She would have died a rather horrible death if we’d tried to convert her, plus maybe lost her soul in the process. So no, once they’re here they’re well sort of screwed.”

“Seasoned Time Travelers start to get, well overly emotional and confident. A bad combination,” added my mother.

My mother pulled me aside later and told me not to talk too much of Time Travel. She said it attracted them and worried others. According to her it is a nice idea in theory but the reality is so jacked up that nobody wins or really learns anything from it. I wasn’t going to argue. She speaks from experience.

So for now I’ll be happy to time travel in books and movies and walks among old places. I’ll speak with those who are older than me and hear the whispers of ghosts. I’ll have my own stories and ramble on about them (or just keep rambling…)

And I’ll look forward to the future – which I believe will be bright and full of wonder.

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

 

 

Time travel makes me dizzy.

Time travel makes me dizzy.

 Note to my regular readers – this post kind of fell flat and didn’t meet my original expectations. I did not do justice to those I was writing about or … well, let’s just say my usual rush didn’t work for me this time. I  plan on rewriting this story later so that it will all of the details and feeling you deserve. 

For more on my mother Samantha and Time Travelers CLICK HERE.

For more on my Vampire mom  CLICK HERE. 

For Dancing on the Beach CLICK HERE.

For a short story about Time Travelers CLICK HERE.

Another Note: I’m traveling this week – not time traveling, just traveling NOW, so this is a rerun from 2014, so I guess you could say it is kind of like time travel back into the not so distant past. Have fun. I’ll have new fun and nonsense soon.


~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

And just for fun sing along…

Movies + History = a lot of Daniel Day Louis

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It is the end of the school year and my daughter and her classmates have already taken the AP History Test, so they’re watching historic movies in class. By the way, they’re juniors in high school. (AP stands for Advanced Placement, which is curriculum approved by an organization that makes a lot of money off of giving tests to kids who want to get into college.)

Movies + History = a lot of Daniel Day Louis.

My daughter is watching Last of the Mohicans at home, and hour at a time. She’ll write about it and compare the movie/story with historical events for accuracy. She already pointed out a few points that are not accurate but she could have asked James Fenimore Cooper about that. That said, she did point out several accurate points, and also pointed out how smoking hot Daniel Day Lewis was as Hawkeye. Actually, I was the one who pointed out how smoking hot he was. She just said how much she liked his long hair and how attractive he looked.

In my opinion some of the most romantic movie moments EVER were between Hawkeye and Cora in this movie. Sigh.

Yesterday Clara (my daughter) told me that they (the history students) started to watch Gangs of New York in class. She said, “I don’t get it at all. Daniel Day Lewis comes out in some crazy wild colored clothes, and I thought this was supposed to be in the 1950’s. I can’t keep track of anything. I didn’t know Leonardo DiCaprio was in it too. That isn’t a bad thing at all.”

I gave my usual small lecture on costume history, etc etc etc, but as my kids get older the less they listen to my little history lessons. Sometimes I wonder if they ever listened at all. They’re like boyfriends on the first three weeks of dating. They listen politely, then they just turn up the radio and block it out. But as a wonderful mom I listen to everything they say. I listen to what my husband says too but he’ll tell you I don’t.

This time I told Cora that in the 1860’s, the same period of Gangs of New York, Werewolves had taken up loud garish clothing. They always had the brightest of everything, the tallest hats, and the most extreme hair. They delighted in their get ups. This is an odd contrast to their current subdued nature, including their clothing. Back then they didn’t care as much because nobody knew what they were. Now, with all of the popular culture about paranormal creatures, not to mention modern forensics, they have to be more careful. But that is just another one of Mom’s (me) silly tales and it is time to change the subject.

 

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Gangs of New York

School is almost out and Clara will be a senior. Then in a year or two there will be no children in my house, only a husband, a dogs, and two cats. Dad is in sad panic mode. I am just in sad mode.

A the same time I am happy that the young people in my life are so excited about their futures.

I’m also glad they have come to appreciate history. If you don’t know where you’ve been you can’t see where you’re going. Unfortunately most people don’t know jack about history and they aren’t interested in learning it.

I’ve always thought the aversion to history by most people is due to several things. The first is just a general lack of curiosity. The second is the way history is taught in so many schools – it is all about dry facts and people in funny clothing. History has to be relatable. That is why I LOVE my daughter’s history teacher. They guy makes it relatable. The third reason is the fact that people don’t value what others have done. They don’t value lives spent to give THEM the right to vote, or speak freely, or pray to whatever they want to pray to, or do anything they want to do.

But I’m off subject again, as if I really had a subject…

If you don’t like history give it a try…see a movie, even if it isn’t accurate, then read a book about it. Sometimes fiction is easier to digest, if you know what I mean. But don’t forget that truth is always stranger than fiction. And if all else fails see a movie with Daniel Day Louis in it. Yes, the kids also saw him in Lincoln, The Crucible, and There Will Be Blood. This summer I’ll make sure Clara sees  Age of Innocence and of course Room With A View. Yes, history can be fun.

So have fun.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

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Every generation thinks the next generation is worse. That isn’t true.

Teens have always had their own style.

Teens have always had their own style.

 

Opinion: Juliette Kings

Every generation thinks the next generation is worse. That isn’t true.

Facebook is full of memes saying …

When I was a kid we were polite, we respected our elders, we were beaten with switches and had our mouths washed out with soap… 

Oh screw that. I’ve always seen RUDE hateful mean despicable young people. I’ve seen it for decades. They learn it from their elders. They learn it from those same parents who are posting those stupid memes.

The teens (and little kids for that matter) in my life are polite. They are respectful. They are great. And you know what? I didn’t have to resort to paddles or other barbaric violent means of teaching them how to be good.

I think back of when I was young and saw unspeakable things done to other children. I remember them being physically and emotionally tortured. I remember children being humiliated by their unloving abusive parents. These were “normal” two parent Christian households. Throw not the first stone they say, but these people should have had stones thrown at them. When I look back I can’t even say out loud, or write the words of what some of the children I knew when through – it is too disturbing. But I can see patterns in the type of parents they had. Some things never seem to change.

Fortunately now there are resources, though not enough, for children who need help. There is never enough help. Foster care isn’t an answer. Family counseling isn’t a solution. These kids need new permanent families who love them, even if it isn’t a traditional family.

I see families where step-parents are the real parents. I see single dads and moms raising kids on their own and the kids are GREAT. I see kids doing great things. I see them talking about everything. I see them questioning the world. They need to question. They need to have their own opinions in order to grow.

Well mannered and polite teens are more of the rule. They aren’t the exception.

The teens in my life have more empathy than anyone of my generation ever had. They are smart. They are focused. They like old people.

They question the world around them. They want to make the world a better place.

The media would have you think otherwise.

If you want the teens and young adults in your life to show respect then you have to give some respect as well. You need to listen to them. I don’t mean “blah blah blah” sort of listening. I mean hearing what they have to say. I mean respecting their opinions even if you don’t agree. I mean explaining things to them if you’re pissed off rather than yelling at them.

Show them that their time is as important as yours. Because it is.

Yes, of course there are kids who are assholes, bullies, trolls, turds, tattlers and trouble makers. But look at their parents. The adults they live with are usually assholes, bullies, trolls, turds, tattlers and trouble makers. Unfortunately for the rest of us, and for teachers, there are one or two of those children (and their awful parents) in every single classroom.

And you know what? It is those asshole parents who post those negative memes. So screw them. If they want respect they have to show a little respect. Show a little interest. Get out of your own head and your own tiny little world. Learn something new.

Fortunately by the time kids are in high school a lot of the assholes (and others) have learned that their behavior gets them nowhere. Teens aren’t playing by playground rules anymore. Assholes are put in their place, and a lot of them realize what jerks they’ve been. It is called growing up.

In AP History the 11th grade students are reading Huckleberry Finn. My daughter and I have discussed the book and the context of the book considering when it was written.

She said, “Huck’s father was just like the white trash, or any of the trash that you see now. They don’t want their kids to do better than they did. It is awful.”

So if you see a kid who is an asshole consider the source. Consider who that child is learning from. Maybe that kid can learn from you. Think about it.

It isn’t Vampires you should fear. It is apathy. It is lack of empathy. It is people refusing to listen to everyone, young and old.

You need to study history because if you don’t know where you’ve been you can’t understand where you are going.

In turn, we need to look forward to the future. We need to listen to the young people and have open discussions with them. For they are the ones who can change the future. Now is a scary time. Now is the time to listen to the teens and young adults. They can see with a fresh eye all of the bull shit the rest of us have become numb to.

So stop complaining and see the incredible talent and resources right in front of us – in our young people. If you’d just open your eyes, your ears, and your heart you will see what I see.

Spend some time with a young adult – some real quality time. It isn’t all smart phones and hook ups. It is a lot more.

 

~ Juliette aka The Old Vampire Maman