August 6, 2011
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“Pinkhoneysuckle”
Dear Friends,
Once upon a time there was a wonderful story which told you about a young girl’s first meeting a man whom she would believe to be a first love in her life. He was about ten years older, and a lifetime more worldly. The setting was at Middle Tennessee State University upon an early summer’s day, a place and a time which exist only in her mind now, because Middle Tennessee State has now become a sprawling campus, and it is doubtful that fellows from AEDC stand and wait at the same old freshman dorms to greet the incoming freshman girls, because now; It would be labeled child abuse.
Then was it abuse? I am not certain, but it was the way things were in the 1960s or the last age of sanity before the world began its transition to the internet super highway which would change the course of all mankind forever, and we would no longer experience tangible moments in the same way because our fingers became too busy loving the mighty plastic keys which made our lives into the imagery of whatever we wanted them to be at the moment instead of the dawn of slow truth which eventually would befall innocent girls. Maybe it is grimlins who would erase the last day that I would ever really be my parents child, but the plastic keys just zapped away that writing.
The next tiime you will see it, if you care to do so, will be with my book release of, “Pinkhoneysuckle,” and it will come to you in early autumn when the red leaves begin to appear and calls young people back to the same colleges and thoughts of old loves which disappeared a long time ago. We do not forget, and we are not ancient, and for most of us who ever were lovers; We shall remain so all the days of our lives. Our faces will have changed, and the body that first nurttured the gifts of the mother’s womb will always remember the poignant moments which no piece of E-tronics can take away. How shallow of any young to believe of the older person with the body that is now a grandmother or grandfather to presume that we do not have our secrets, that we cannot feel — Just as if it were yesterday the wonderful time and place where we first felt the warmth of first love.
The elder Mom takes it to her grave, and the Grandfather pictures it in his long goodbyes; Enough with the Depends jokes! The outward shell of the person can be destroyed, but our youth is still there somewhere just like yours, and that, “We loved,” and we like to go to that place again is more than a miracle; It is the gift of ages.
Hope to meet you with all of my memories, “Pinkhoneysuckle,” the novel out via Amazon: Barbara Everett Heintz. I hope to meet some of you again at book signings. Blessings, Barbara
