January 24, 2013
-
The Disappearing Act
Sometimes I write things, and they disappear, and such has been my luck tonight. Maybe it was overkill to admit that Xanga had a profound effect on my life in bringing me to a point where I had lived, written, worked, — Provided history as accurately as possible, and have awards to show from San Francisco and Hollywood that I won something in their 2012 Book Festivals with my book, “Pinkhoneysuckle,” and that the Hollywood was first in category; That was one which took my breath away, so I can say that I got encourage from Xanga like no other place — Comments, kindness, absolute love, And sadly, these people come and go in your life, for it takes time to keep us with even doing small task to help promote books. My next speaking engagment is apt to be in Cincinnati with the radio great interviewer, Lee Hay, who asked to interview me, and I would have polished her shoes for the opportunity. I have some brown and black shoe polish from the old days that we may have to set fire to to get any melted down, but I mean it; I am so honored, for WVXU is among my favorites of radio stations in Cincinnati. Lee is also the arts magazine producer, so she is one busy lady. My2012 summer awards made my heart sing, and to go to Hollywood and receive such a warm welcome and a first for my book’s genre will go down as happiness deeper than I can express.
I know the Xanga people who have done anything for me and my book, and I wish to thank you again, those who lifted me up when I was falling, and those who gave counsel, who expressed love for the person who I am inspite of having all of the marks of, “Pinkhoneysuckle Years.” I would obviously beg some of you to consider getting my book for some reading; “Appalachia,” now why would you want to read about a diasphora which really took place aroung 60 years ago now, and I would add to that — Because it affects every rust belt city to this day, much of the poorer south, and Appalachian people are having to listen to California and Alice Waters with her, “Eat seasonally, eat organicly if possible, and eat vegetables. Show children how to grow vegetables and fruits and to stay away from cola and sweets. Please, will anyone tell that dear woman that such was the only way of life we all knew back in our mountains and valleys, and in Falls Mill close to where I lived; You could have all of your products stone ground — Back in the heart of the farms the government of the USA decided we should leave for jobs north in nasty factories; So they were calling in loans, so wives and children would be left to try to salvage what we could. I can reassure you that my Daddy left for those years with the clothes on his back, and another shirt, maybe, his underclothes; maybe one change, and he was one of thousands.
The truth of the death of southern farms, and the lie perpetuated in California and where no one else knows that southern living was about living off the land, the water, and what meat you could bear to slaughter, and we are not living in some kind of new age, Alice Waters, discovery. People think they are richer now if they can be self sufficient and provide safe food, and we picked our for by 8 AM in season, and it would be washed, cleaned and cooked for noon day dinner, and even iced tea was too expensive for us until Dad got to come home, and we could afford tea and sugar. We need for you to help us know that this was an agrarian country mainly at the turn of last century, and like thieves; It was taken to manipulate the economy.
If you want love and coming of age stories, I had to get that in, for a real life could take you through visions of what we loved that was good and yet the terror which came at a woman, broken in one way or the other like some mule which tried to get away from their whippings; We could not. Humor flows through the pages, for the insanity just sometimes changed from tears to belly laughter — just insane, and out of control, so we were coping just coping like every one else. You have heard all of this from me my Xanga friends, and I want you to accept my deepest apology that I need to make the plea for some more of you to take a chance of purchassing my book. Through Amazon, it cost less than seven dollars if you have Kindle, or if you want a copy of the book, and you want it signed; We can get it back and forth.
But I am asking you to help me get my book out in your neck of the woods. Have you ever decided that begging is not beneath you? Well I am begging more of you to take a chance on my book, and I will give you a heart felt promise that if you are a Xanga regular, and you have items to sell, then help me to know who you are. I cannot possibly say that I will buy from every one, but I think we can help each other more than I have done, but I am only now getting well enough to take on the courage of the new life world of The internet supper talented. We are hindered somewhat, because we are sizing down as many of our age must, but maybe we could even get Xanga to let us have a skills and sales roo, so our writing pages stay pure to making something one longs to read.
I apologize to bring it up, for I thought Xanga would be a diverse enough group of people who might want to read what the poorest did to endeavor to keep a way of life well and acceptable as the norther factories gave no housing, just grimmy dirt and men who felt shame they could not provide, and I ask God right now that some of your eyes may be opened that I am telling the story, for our pareents have gone on, and I am rich if only five of you heed the call to order my book however you are willing to, for that is five more who can message to others that the author is a friend of yours. Help me however you can, and it is not your, “Must have,” for we are so broke, but I want to work for seed money to do somethin which will make a lasting change in the lives of poor women and children, I have all kinds of dreams, but most of them involve cooperatives to inspire and to educate younger folks who do not remember wonder bread and balonga, and I am not going to bring change without knocking through just asking.
Again to the ones who did something, any thing, I have expressed gratitude all along the way, and I know who has lit the lamp for me; So once again, person to person and beyond all measure; You are my tresure and I will never forget you. You are held in the highest estem.
So, please consider me, Barbara Everett Heintz, “Pinkhoneysuckle,” and the story which left no rocuntered to tell it as it happened. Amazon, Kindle ready.
Thank you, and I will leave this at your open hearts as we.
God Bless, and Love, Barb Hz
