vintage
Vintage content about families throughout history; all about ancient ancestors, heirlooms, royal families and beyond.
What it was like growing up in the 80s . Top Story - June 2022.
There are so many things that kids know nothing about, things I grew up on or people that grew up before the 90s. I think it was a fun time growing up. Things were not like they were today, and not as dangerous, at least where I live.
By Kerrie G.Diaz4 years ago in Families
Small Town Summer Food
Summer food? Yeah, I know what you mean. Look, Montana gets cold. I mean, tongue-stuck-to-the-flagpole cold. So you get used to soups, and stews. Potatoes, onions, carrots, biscuits, warm-your-toes, warm-your-soul, comforting, calorie-filled, dripping grease, your-momma-spent-a-long-time-on-this, so-sit-down-and-eat, food.
By Spencer Reaves4 years ago in Families
An Easter Story
Easter weekend dawned crisp and bright. The crisp part was completely welcome in an area of the country where the temperatures can easily be in the nineties in April. As the most holy of the holidays prepared to settle into the year, we were invited to a special celebration luncheon at Miss Charlotte Anne's home located in the sleepy historical district in a town of 100,000 citizens.
By Lana Broussard4 years ago in Families
Cleaning Out the Basement
It is an enormous privilege to live in the house my father built with his own hands. I grew up here. I’ve cried at least as many tears here as anywhere. I escaped here at 22. And I came back here 33 or so years later, having married twice, raised two children, opened and closed my own business, bought and sold a house or two.
By Martha Madrigal4 years ago in Families
Wild Pickings Up the Holler
Paint on our farmhouse screen door chips off in desiccated white blocks against pale brown wood beneath. Fine mesh screen bubbles loosely in the frame. I push and the door swings easily, even though I’m so small. There’s a yawning creak as the spring expands, then a fast-winding screech and multi-layer smacking as the door shuts behind me. I carry an empty water pail by its metal handle and savor the feel of the shifting momentum swinging with my steps. My brother wears a backpack and holds a white-speckled blue stockpot. His hair is impossibly blonde from all the summer sun. Our sister is inside nursing a head wound from an incident in the barn yesterday, so it’s just us two today.
By Philip Canterbury4 years ago in Families
514 S. 6th St., #5
My first Christmas was spent at 514, and I was almost a year old. On that first baby's first Christmas, a special stocking was made that bore my name and contained little baby things. As I grew, I continued using it, and it was always my favorite. None of my siblings had one like it. Their first stockings were purchased in New Jersey, not Georgia.
By Nancy Nason Guss4 years ago in Families
Millennium Summer
I remember that summer near Golden Bay so vividly. We were staying in an old cottage as the guests of family friends. It was so picturesque, a sweet little weatherboard house on a sprawling grapefruit orchard. My younger sisters, our family friend’s children, and I spent the days playing outside in the summer heat whilst our parents looked on. They were so relaxed. We bought mounds of soil covered vegetables via the local “honesty box”, plucked blackberries from the garden which would stain our hands pink, and licked slices of the sour grapefruit which grew so abundantly around us.
By Charlotte Dallison4 years ago in Families
