Sunday, July 5, 2009

What Would It Take for You To Feel Immortal?

(Relatives? - In 1882 and 1892, some native families from French Guiana and Suriname were brought to Paris, to be shown as specimens of "savage humanity" - My grandfather was born in 1893)

Spent the weekend with my Mom and gave her the third degree about her parents. Sometimes this can be a really, really good thing. Other times - not so good. With my Mom it bordered on the 'not' side of good.

And it wasn't because she had a bad childhood. She's 75 years old and her parents were immigrants from Jamaica and French Guinea, mother and father, respectively. They ended up living in one of the smallest towns in Ohio from 1923 until their deaths in 1989 and 1976, respectively.

My Mom was the baby of five children and she loved her parents and had a fabulous time, being the bell of the ball in many ways even though she was Negro and the only black family of stature in the town of 2000 clay miners.

According to my Mom, her parents were 'saints'. No, seriously, she said the word saints - and meant it. She also said the word perfect. I knew her parents. I lived with my grandparents from the age of 4 until I was 8. I visited my grandparents every summer for nearly three months from the age of 8 until I was 17. I knew them. They were cool. Okay, my grandmother was cool. My grandfather was silent - I swear he said less than a thousand words in the twenty years I remember him being on this Earth. So when I say they weren't perfect. I know of which I speak.

But my resistance to my Mom's tale about her perfect, god-fearing childhood? Well, it's strong. But is it me, or does the story beg - I mean scream and beg - to be pulled apart?

Shit, it might just be me. But I don't think so.

All of this leads to a central theme. In addition to examining the peaks and valleys of an immortal existence (my vampire story). I'm also examining the loose ties that bind generations.

Memories - They are a bitch if you want them to be.

Hey, if you happen across this blog - I'm just finding my way to informative bits and pieces about writing, memory and vampires (think about it...there is a symmetry to this, I swear.)

Don't hesitate to drop me line. Share a memory, and answer the question:

What would it take for you to feel immortal? (As much as I love children, you can't mention your babies in response, okay?:)!

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