vintage

Vintage content about families throughout history; all about ancient ancestors, heirlooms, royal families and beyond.

The Light That Remembered Us. AI-Generated.
The cold in Chicago didn't just bite; it owned the streets. It was the kind of February wind that whistled through the gaps in the window frames of the high-rise, a constant, low-frequency reminder that the world outside was indifferent to human comfort. Inside Apartment 42B, the air was different. It was clean, filtered, and smelled faintly of the expensive lemon-scented disinfectant used by the cleaning crew that came every Thursday. It was a home, theoretically, but to Clara, it often felt like a gallery where she was one of the exhibits.
By George Evan7 days ago in Families
Jatuka
Growing up, going to Kabondo was not just an Ordinary trip it was a Special Treat. It was a time to reconnect with my cousins while My Mother bonded with her Siblings. The journey was always kept a secret till the very last minute and every once in awhile I would accompany My Mother Home to Kabondo. She had a way of sneaking in and leaving without telling me. And each time she returned, I would throw a tantrum and refuse to eat as pay back for not being invited on the trip to Kabondo. You see My Mother’s hometown held a special place in Our Lives yet she never spent the night there whenever she visited. Her trips were conducted early mornings and she would returned by evening the same day. I seldom wondered why she didn’t like staying overnight. Maybe she explained it, but it never sinked in until now. Once you lose your parents, going Home nolonger feels the same. To me Kabondo was Heaven yet for My Mother it was Bitter sweet. Each time she left me behind I would cry and plead to go on the next trip but the answer was always No. The few times I was able to go she would conduct a prep-talk a day before the trip. No we cannot spend the night, no you cannot stay behind and no don’t ask your uncles to ask me. Be on your best behavior when we arrive and if you go play outside, stay within close range. And that was the order nothings for many of the trips to Kabondo. No one ever pleaded with her for us to stay longer. Maybe it was her strict demeanor that scared everyone, or maybe they tried and gave up. Either way, the Trips to Kabondo were always short lived. All the uncles, cousins, extended relatives would always meet and gather at Uncle Wilson’s house each time we visited. I sometimes wondered where the rest of them lived, but dared to never ask. Remember I was summoned to be on my best behavior while in Kabondo, and if I disobeyed I would be dispelled from visiting again. I knew not to ask questions in order to continue accompanying Mommy on her trips.
By Pam Zee13 days ago in Families
The Portal of Creation:
Across ages and civilizations, the feminine principle has been revered not merely as a companion to creation, but as its very portal. The phrase “portal of creation” captures a truth whispered through myth, mysticism, and sacred geometry alike — that the universe expresses itself through a generative matrix, a womb of becoming. In this cosmology, creation is not a passive event but an eternal pulse flowing through the living body of the feminine.
By By Aja Truth14 days ago in Families
Bettijo Hirschi
Introduction Bettijo Hirschi is a multi‑talented creative professional from the United States. She works as a designer, art director, photographer, writer, and event planner. Bettijo has built a long career in creative work and media. People know her for her artistic skills, her work in magazines and television, and her lifestyle blog. She is also known in recent news because of changes in her personal life.
By Farhan Sayed18 days ago in Families
The Love That Stays Off-Camera
I didn’t notice the fire until it was almost too late. It was a Tuesday in late October. Dry wind, brittle leaves, the kind of air that crackles with danger. I was inside, scrolling through bad news on my phone, when the smell hit—acrid, sharp, wrong. I ran outside just as smoke curled over the ridge behind our street.
By KAMRAN AHMAD26 days ago in Families
The Last Gallop
In a small village nestled between golden wheat fields and sun-cracked hills, there lived a horse named Bahar. He wasn’t sleek or swift, nor did he have a pedigree worth boasting about. His coat was dull in places, his legs bore old scars, and one ear was half-torn from a long-forgotten storm. But to twelve-year-old Rehan, Bahar was more than a horse—he was memory, comfort, and home.
By meerjanan27 days ago in Families
Mutants for Dividends: How Bioengineered Animals Feed Profits, Not Life
That little “bioengineered” sticker on your groceries? It’s not a warning—it’s a confession. America didn’t just change food; it rewrote nature’s code to keep profits flowing. Too bad your body—and the animals—are the crash test dummies.
By By Aja Truth28 days ago in Families
Your Plate Is a Stock Ticker: How Wall Street Profits Off Fake Food
Walk into any supermarket and you’re not walking into a place designed to feed you. You’re walking into a showroom for financial assets disguised as food. The bright boxes screaming “healthy,” “whole grain,” “low fat” are line items on earnings calls, tuned to one purpose: turn your need to survive into shareholder profit.
By By Aja Truth28 days ago in Families
The Space Between Noticing
The city woke up loudly, but Jonah always noticed the silence first. It lived in the early hours, tucked between the hum of traffic and the clatter of metal gates opening for business. It lingered in the spaces most people rushed through without a second thought. Jonah didn’t rush. He never had.
By Yasir khanabout a month ago in Families
A Toast to the Timed and Tamed
It’s funny how everybody celebrates New Year’s on January 1st, like clockwork — literally. The fireworks go off, champagne pops, resolutions fly, and everyone cheers in submission, believing they’ve begun something new. But if you really think about it, nothing has shifted but the clock’s agreement. Nature doesn’t renew herself in January’s frost. The trees are bare, the ground is sleeping. We start the “new year” when life is still in hibernation — and call that progress.
By By Aja Truthabout a month ago in Families
The Last Unopened Gift
Chapter 1: The Geometry of Silence The snow did not fall in New York City that year; it descended. It came down in thick, heavy curtains of white that muffled the screaming sirens and the frantic honking of yellow taxis. By 10:00 PM on December 31st, 2025, the world had been erased, replaced by a monochrome landscape of frost and shadows.
By omarabout a month ago in Families
The Devil, the Mascot:
The devil, as most people imagine him, relies on spectacle. Fire. Brimstone. A red suit stitched together with fear and superstition. He frightens, he threatens, he tempts. He is loud. But in Gnostic thought, the devil is almost quaint—more mascot than mastermind. The real terror lies elsewhere, hidden behind systems, routines, and invisible rulers who do not need pitchforks because they already own the farm.
By By Aja Truthabout a month ago in Families