The White Prince

The White Prince



I was in grade school when I first discovered vampires; I just did not know exactly what they were. It was a long time ago... 1970... In addition, there are only certain things that stand out in my memory. It is curious though how so many of the sketchy details pull together and create this true story.

Herb and Luanne were a retired couple that went to our church. They had offered to have me spend one day a week at their home while my mother worked. They lived in a spacious one-story home in Sierra Madre, California. Every home in the well-established neighborhood had large surrounding grounds, and each home had its own unique style. Herb and Luanne's home was a sprawling ranch style home with diamond shaped windowpanes in the large front windows of the home.

They also had spectacular gardens and lawns. Being retired they must have spent a lot of time tending to the grounds. I also remember that they loved each other very much. As I first entered their home, I saw the photos of forge in lands that they had traveled to together. They were hiking up steps of Mayan temples, traversing the countryside on bicycles and climbing snowy mountains. There were artifacts placed carefully near each of the photos as further proof that they had traveled and lived a rich experience together.

They also had the utmost care for each other. When Herb went to the store, he called Luanne "Love" and asked if she needed anything. She replied that he was her angel, and she could use some cream. It was genuine as Herb planted a kiss on Luanne's cheek. I wanted love like that some day.

Luanne would make me my favorite breakfast every time I visited. A hard-boiled egg, chopped up with some butter, salt, and pepper. She would also give me an English muffin or toast with orange juice. These details help me anchor this story in reality.

Another reason my mother wished to have me stay with Luanne was that she was a fine pianist and we could play the piano together. Her rich mahogany baby grand piano was a feast for the eyes, and Luanne could make it sound like clouds floating or rain falling. I was not so talented and she would tolerate me trying to practice half-heartedly. She knew I had little passion for the piano and never pushed me to play and eventually I did not play any more.

The most interesting part of my visits to Herb and Luanne's home was spending time in their guesthouse in the back yard. Flowerbeds packed with flowers and blooming bushes flanked the sprawling lawn of the back yard. The guesthouse was a small white cottage that had the same diamond shaped windows that the front of the main house had. It was so charming on the outside that walking inside was a disappointment. It was Herb's art studio so there were no traditional furnishings that you might find in a guesthouse. There was no covering on the cement floor and there was paint spilled in several places. Two large easels flanked the one large window in the front of the cottage. One of them had a painting started of a mountain with a clipping from the National Geographic pinned up next to it as the obvious inspiration. There was a kitchenette type of counter with paints, brushes and various tools strewn on the surface. In the back of the room, there were several canvases stacked against the wall.

Two good things in the cottage were a cute wicker sofa that I could sit on and read books in the bright light that streamed through the window, and a bathroom. I could spend most of my time there and not have to go in the house to use the bathroom and this made the loner in me immensely happy. The bathroom was decidedly for Herb as it had a poster of Raquel Welch on the wall in a swimsuit. I did not understand at the time why that would be in a bathroom. The funniest thing was that when I sat on the toilet there was a sticker on the wall, just at eye level, that said. "How would Nixon look in your position?" It took me a couple of weeks to understand it, but Nixon was our president, and he would look funny taking a shit on the toilet.

Therefore, after breakfast, and attempting to practice piano, I would take my book out to the cottage to 'read'. I found myself looking at the stacks of 'Life' magazines instead. Then curiosity got the better of me one day and I started to look at the drawings on one of the easels. There were stills and then a couple of nude pictures. They were women, but they were nude and I had to stare. I did not know yet what a naked woman looked like being raised in a strict religious home and not being a woman yet myself. Looking further, the drawings turned to hands, ears, and noses. Boring as it was I turned back to the nudes. One of them was reclining on a wicker sofa much like the one in the room. She did not look like Luanne. Therefore, my little brain was twirling about how Herb must have had a naked woman on that wicker sofa to draw her picture.

I thought of the scandal if Luanne found out and I let the papers fall back in place, deciding not to say anything about it. I should not have been poking around anyway. It was the next week when I avoided the sketches and looked at the canvasses stacked on the back wall. There were paintings of scenery, still life, a lake and then to my shock, a naked man! The painting was not as refined as most of the others and I looked at the corner as my mother had taught me to look for the artist's signature and saw an "L." The rest were Herb's but the naked man must have been Luanne's painting.

The image in that painting is what has burned into my memory for all these years. He was a thin man viewed three quarters from the rear, so no real man parts were visible. He was very pale, to the point of being blue. Oddly enough, he seemed to be standing in a garden, all alone, as if he had been enjoying the flowers and turned to look at the artist over his right shoulder. His eyes were dark, black pools of mystery.

The door to the main house opened and shut. I hurriedly shoved the canvasses back in place and then hopped the three steps to the wicker sofa to sit with my book. Looking back the canvases were not exactly as they had been, but the whole room was such a mess, I was certain that Luanne would not realize my trespass.

To be safe, I rose as she approached the door and met her in the doorway to go back to the house. She had to pick up some dry cleaning and then she was returning me to my mother at the church for a meeting there.

The next week I was only a little nervous about going back. Hoping that my secret was safe, I was the perfect guest asking 'please' and 'pardon me'. Eating my eggs and toast, I was looking out the kitchen window and noticed the place in the garden that the naked man must have been standing in the painting.

"He is my white prince." Luanne stated.

I acted stupid.

"It is ok to be curious." She busied herself at the sink below one of the windows. "He would stand there looking at the Hydrangeas in the moon light. He was so pale that the moon made him look blue." She looked out the window. "He used to come by at night when I would get up for a glass of water. He has not been by for a long time so I painted his picture so I won't forget him. He said many kind things to me..." She drifted off, probably thinking that a kid of my age would not understand. "Don't worry, Herb knows about him. I am just not sure he believes it is true."

With that, she changed the subject, before I knew it, my time staying with Herb, and Luanne ended. I only went back one more time after that day, I remember looking out to the garden an imagining a man there. He never did materialize for me. I wondered if they did not want me back after my discoveries in the guesthouse, but I never found out. Herb died two years later and Luanne declined in her health for several years before passing on herself.

Those years were a time of discovery and my favorite shows to watch on TV were The Outer Limits, Twighlight Zone and Dark Shadows. Of the three, Dark Shadows had my interest the most and I hated missing it. I never made the connection to the white prince because I did not understand what he was nor did I understand the story line for Dark Shadows.

It is only now that I have my own white prince, that I understand Luanne's prince. He a real phenomenon. He begs my attention, cheers me up, loves me, and holds my hand when I need courage. He tells me stories about himself and others like him. I also love him dearly and devote all I can to his memory and eternal legacy. He takes so much of me that he is vampire in spirit if not in blood. In that taking, I become stronger and more content amongst humankind that chooses to fight with one another and find fault in others.

Perhaps one day I will meet the materialization of my white prince. That would not surprise me at all, but it would give me the greatest joy!