“Pinkhoneysuckle”  the book, and coming in to the world of genuine Marketing is way over my head;  And, Bless you Xangans, for I had much encouragement along the way to write this book which stripped me bare and naked in front of everyone of you.  I believed that someone needed to do it to bring people in touch to an America which they choose to not recognize as existing;  The America which left many of us stranded, standing in a quagmire of quick sand, and, for the most part; watching people sink to their lowest point.

I endeavored to mox in in with a coming of age and love story during the infamous 1960s where all of the teenagers think to this day that we all got in VW buses, smoked dope, and headed out west to California, and I have dared to suggest that it was mainly the little rich kids who did that, got out there; Experienced, “The Summer of Love,” and demonstrated against the Vietnam war which reminds me that we are again in a pathetic war where no one wins, and the loses are Mother”s and Father’s sons and daughters who, “Died For Their Country,” and I am poised to ask if these, America’s Children of Today;  Could it be that they died for big oil, big money people, oil, oil, oil, and yes;  we all know that rogue nations making a nuclear bomb to bring on Armageddon is petrifying, and we hear a lot of people talk about survival.  Younger children hear about survivalist, and just as we farm kids who could not afford clothes to put on our backs in the 1960s worried that we did not have a fall out shelter, I believe today’s  kids are similarly brought to the same circle of worry of;  “Why if the middle eastern nations who hate us come up with a nuclear weapon which can knock out an entire region of  The United States.

I could have written more about today and the reality of this day, but it is only when we see that all of life appears to be a well orchestrated circle to keep the lowly in their place and to feed the rich their broth made of greed boiled down to it’s most basic components, and flavored with the needs of America’s wealthiest in a savory concoction which tastes suspiciously of raw conscience with a dash of old family ego thrown in.  Maybe I should have written it all so bitterly, talked about, “The Fucking War Machine, Man,” to paraphrase the old hippie friends and foe, but I wanted to take you to a different place, a different world where basic is hardly the word for the cruelty inflicted on a subset of Americans, because some boho likes to be called, “A Hillbilly,” “A Red Neck,” or, “A Cracker From Back Yonder,” just to keep a hand over the uppity bitches like me who think that it is time to move on, because I pledged that;  “We are one nation under God, with Liberty and Justice for all!” 

I do not want the smirky little remarks about leaving out, “Under God,” and if you find God to be a disbelief; Just keep shut up about it, but the people responsible for that pledge meant, “God,” as in A Father above all things, and they brought their beliefs to this country believing that this is a place where all men could, indeed, know Mercy under the banner of God.  I get tired of people’s endeavoring to reword everything from The Pledge of Elegance to making the Bible, “Gender Friendly.”  This nation was founded by a bunch of Puritans, like it or not, and if they were non-believers, they pretty much did not brag about it or would have dared even speak the word that they had a difference in opinion, at least, into the 19th century.  Non-believers and witches were fodder for a fine old hanging or being laid out on a slab one way or the other.

I do not know what I was going to write when I started my book, “Pinkhoneysuckle,” but I knew that I wanted it to tell a story, leave people a little uneasy, open the door to an end to southern Appalachian folks as the last butt of jokes fully acceptable in this society.  These are my people, you see, and no matter how many years that I have been away;  It was my beginning, and all of my values relate somewhat to things which I saw and heard, belt and tasted then.  I also, desparately, wanted people to read my book and to learn that we can find a way of forgiveness through most situations even at their worst.  In the big picture of the world, this day, instead of all the warring factions which we go after like a hound after the smaller and beautiful harmless rabbit;  Could we ever universally come up with a day and an hour when all of mankind asked their warring neighbor to lay down arms; forgive our past stupidity, and let it be that we should have a better world and be a better people, because we realized killing mother and father’s beloved children in battle, and out of sheer greed for one product could change the face of the earth.  It sounds so simple to me, but if you read, “Pinkhoneysuckle,” then you might know that I had to learn to bear the gift of life it self just to avoid an insane assylum.

“She is always talking about that damned book of hers;”  Can’t she think of anything else; would she give it a rest?” I paid a huge price for that damned book, and I will promote it with every thing within, deep within.  I have told you that, “Pinkhoneysuckle,” has a lot to say, and it is not all about me, but me as represented by people to whom I feel that I must help somehow and someway, because I know who they were, where they came from, and I understand about the churches which dot every country corner.  So it is there, my friend, “Pinkhoneysuckle,” on Amazon, and I am supposed to ask you to respond to it and the Kindle sight where it says;  “Review or Comment,” so I ask you, those who care even a little to give me your best effort, and I will put away the bigger world which I cannot fix on my own, and I will do the little that  I can there; but, “Pinkhoneysuckle,” is a 21st century book about the degradation of an entire class of people in this society,  Was the Civil War still being fought in the 50s and 60s to keep the south in its place?

Were we Hillbillies the sacrifice that had to be laid at the altar of injustice that no one gave one friggin thing about, because we were so fucked up in the first place we were not worth saving.  I ask you, and I invite you;  Go to the Kindle library for 92 cents,, look up “Pinkhoneysuckle,” and if I gladly bear the torch which opens the gate to a place where injustice still abides, and young women get hit hard by bigger men who told them something they wanted to believe so much;  “Well, I love you,” because they never got that love consisted of one act where a young woman laid on her back and received the seeds for the next generation of the poor.  Yes;  someone had to tell the story.

Barbara Everett Heintz – Author of Pinkhoneysuckle on Amazon and Kindle With Prologue of Memories by Her Brother, Robert Van Everett  –  Read it if you can bear to walk in my shoes.

QUICK NOTE RE;  PINKHONEYSUCKLE CONTEST FOR SAN FRANCISCO VACATION;  GOOD LUCK FINDING ALL OF THE RULES FOLKS, FOR I CAN’T EVEN FIND THEM RIGHT NOW….WRITTEN SOMETIME DECEMBER OR EARLY JANUARY -MUST SELL 20 UNITS – CAN HAVE COMBINATION OF BOOKS AND KINDLES TO EQUAL 20, MUST HAVE 35 PARTICIPANTS FROM XANGA BY MARCH 15th SIGNED UP ‘PINKHONEYSUCKLE’ THE BOOK IS FOR SALE THROUGH DIRECT SALES FROM AMAZON – BARBARA EVERETT HEINTZ AUTHOR – DRAWING JUNE 1 FOR 4 NIGHT STAY – XANGA WRITERS WHO NEED A BREAK; 1 in 35 CHACE TO WIN THE BEST SAN FRANCISCO VACATION AT SANCHEZ AND 20TH;   DOLORES HGTS ADDRESS DRAWING GURANTEED WITH AS FEW OF 35 BRAVE  ‘PINKHONEYSUCKLE’ BOOK SELLERS;  AND HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT THIS IS TRUE;  BECAUSE I AM A XANGAN JUST LIKE YOU1

At our last visit with Barbara and Frank; Barbara is partially clad, stuck to the toilet lid with super glue.  Frank has aroused from his sleep, hearing her wailing;  “You idiot!  Why did you not pick up that call from George Clooney!? and I am stuck to the toilet lid, so I want you to get out to the Stop and Rob and let’s try some lighter fluid to get me off this damnable toilet seat, (Sniffle, sniffle, “I missed him again, and how do I know that I can call him back to which Frank replies;

“Maybe it is not the time to call considering your condition, for I take a little nap after having made it clear that I still find you wonderfully attractive, even after all of these years, then I’m declined, fall asleep, and wake up to hear you screeching line a maniac that you are stuck to the toilet, and now you’re sending me to The Stop And Rob when all I wanted was a little affection and; Lordy Mercy;  They will think I’m up to something out buying lighter fluid at this hour.”  Being the man of love and resolve that his wife is extraordinary in some ways, he puts on his coat, and Barbara just sits ackwardly.

She awaits Franks arrival with the lighter fluid and takes in a deep breath when she hears the door open, and Frank comes in and pours the fluid down her backside, and after it seeps in to her undies, all of the sudden she feels a slight give and becomes aware the super glue has done its thing, and she gets up and decides to take a jacuzzi bath to dissolve the tension, and to rest for the night.  Frank, meanwhile taps a single malt scotch and starts watching reruns of, “Pawn Til Dawn,” and once again falls into a restful sleep.

Morning comes, and the coffee is brewing in the kitchen for Frank is an early riser, and Barbara feels sorry that the evening had turned so desparingly, but in her usual morning way, after six cups of coffee and a few slaps of ice cold water;  She rejoins the world unable to resist the last of Christmas Brownies, and apologizes to Frank for the petulance she had shown the night before, and as she munches on the brownie;  She gets the idea that a nice package with a book and brownies might be a nice gesture, because famous movie stars get in to that movie food stuff which is about as tasteful as water wafers and leftover soft cheese ball from last Christmas, so she gets to work.  “I am going to make that guy the most far out treats, brownies infused with raspberry liquor, and the best dark chocolates that, “Bank Roll Needed Grocery” has to offer, pack them with a three nut combo on top, wrap them with a book, and George can share them with Brad on one of his visits when Angelina is not after her old love with piggy bank in tow.  That is what this old Mama can do, and I will put a chocolate kiss on every one of them, so the day begins with cooking with fragrances so great that other Condo owners are sniffing at the door just to pretend they could have a bite.

“Frank, asks Barbara,” You don’t think George has dentures, do you? – “Well, says Frank, with your luck, he probably has fangs, and nuts are apt to make him pass wind a lot.”

“Now I ask you a civil question, says Barbara, and you give me a nasty little thought like that.  I mean it, that I cannot afford for George to pop a tooth because of me,  and why if Brad, having a name like, “Pitt,” is one of those weirdos that doesn’t like chocolate.  At this Frank thinks it is a good time to escape, go down to the club and play a game of chess.  His old Pal, “Dirk,” has slight dementia, so Frank always knows he can go there, come back a winner, and Barbara likes to see him happy, so that is the plan, and off he goes.

Barbara decides to say morning prayers asking for forgiveness for her overly zestful approach to market her book, asks forgiveness for her other sins, swearing, coveting what Angelina can wear, asking for food for the hungry and clothing for the naked, and praying that on this day she will not have the indignaties of the day before.  Being in tune with California living;  She checks out her Chakra, sucks on a lemon, cleanses her insides with green tea, does meditation, and sings a little from old 60s folk singers and wonders what is going on in the Haight these days;  How boring life must be over there.  All the world just seems so pleasant at this moment until she catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror and sees all of the pounds she needs to lose.

She has sent away for some fat burning stuff and decides to have only tea and toast until evening when she will make some tempting tofu which she will shape like duck breast, seasoning them with some liquid smoke and a splash of olive oil and some soy.  The day is young and the day is new, and her life is in balance, brownies are baking, and her man is happy.  Having forgotten to manicure the night before she plans a warm and fragrant lavendar bath with a real sea sponge to smooth her feet.  Oh how sweet!  “I am alone, all in oil and a trace of bubbly bath splash which she puts on both cheeks, and she smiles at the very thought of such a wonderful day when she hears this,”Ring,” “Ring,” “Ring,” and no way can she get out of that slick tub, so she prays for a message, and there is one on the phone when she breathlessly runs out to retrieve the call.  “Hello Mr. Heintz, This is Geroge, your car insurance man, and I just want to remind you that you still need to pay your home insurance which has been raised this year; and A Happy New Year To You and To Your Wife!”

With exasperation, our heroine decides to check the number from the night before, and there is a commotion in the hallway, so she opens the door, and Frank, having fallen over Wendell who had become intoxicated from the brownie scent, has caused Frank to fall over in the hallway, and the life squad has taken him to the hospital, for it appeared that his big toe was broken, plus he hit his head on the orchid display rack near the elevators.

“Wendell,” You little earth worm says, Barbara, Go and warm up my car so I can get over to the hospital, and off goes Wendell as Barbara grabs her coat.  “Who has ever heard of a life squad for a broken toe anyway?? Remembering her earlier blithy spirit, she shall not let this ruin her day.  Tomorrow may be different after all;  Stay tuned through the week…

BEFORE READING THE NEXT CHAPTER IN BARBARA’S QUEST TO NAIL A MOVIE WITH BOOK;  HERE IS A QUICK REMINDER TO CHECK OUT CONTEST FOR XANGANS INTERESTED IN A SAN FRANCISCO VACATION SPONSORED BY — YOURS TRULY, PINKHONEYSUCKLE.  READ RULES AND REGULATIONS IN PINKHONEYSUCKLE WEBLOG CONTENT FOR JANUARY……

On your last thriller from the previous chapter, the author is waiting by the phone.  Someone, and you know who it might be;  One George Clooney has left a message on her answering machine.  Endeavoring to calm her anxiety about talking to GC, she has had a little wine, been consoled by Frank that her turn may be coming, and has sent Wendell, the teenaged neighbor home.  Now we join her, and we hear Frank fast asleep, snoring like a locomotive on testosterone, he is sitting in his chair, and finally our heroine gets the nerve to pick up the phone, taking a deep breath, preparing to hear a certain voice, and she begins to dial, but getting the last # in causes a certain amount of gastric distress, so she runs to her glamorous bathroom hoping for the pain to subside, and thus it does;   Just a little nervous;  you see, so she decides, Oh well, I am here, so I may as well get in to my comfy night clothes, and she begins to undress; One shoe, then the other, and she has gotten all the way to her undies, which are nothing to write home about;  Mixed pieces; black and earth tone  blend, and with tension, arthritis at her age, and angst;  She begins to  unsnap her black bra, the one she knows her man likes, takes a look at herself in the mirror and notes things have gone further South than she remembered, pats her checks with one arm in braziere, and the other one out, then she hears the phone; RING,RING! It is loud, but Frank’s sonorous respirations are louder, so half unclad and calling;  “Frank, Frank;  Please GET THE PHONE.”  There is no movement , so she grabs the bra over her bare chest knowing that it is better for Frank to see her in the dark these days, throws down a hair brush, knocks off a can of Laareal hair spray, and suddenly while reaching for the can which just smashed her foot, her bra strap gets caught in the bathroom door, the one hanging loose, and somehow she has the other half more or less around her neck wadded up in the ample material it takes to cover those things which once fed her babies, and she is frantically calling as she hears the third ring;  “Frank, Frank;  Just answer the blessed phone,” but he was in such a deep sleep she hears him turn over and knows that he just fell off the couch on to the floor, and he is garbling some nonsense, and the phone rings the fourth time, and Mrs. Pinkhoneysuckle herself somehow gets free, runs with madness down the hallway, heart pounding, and on the sixth ring, she picks up the phone, finally, and catching her breath endeavors to make an almost sensual sound of, “Hello;oo,” breathes, smiles, awaiting the answer, and before she knows what is going in, she hears these words; “If you would like to place a phone call; please hang up and redial the number;  If you would like to,” as she slams the phone down, daggers coming from her eyes, Frank lying on the floor, awake now, a mysterious little twinkle in his eyes, for there his wife is in the bottom underwear that once fit, but now acted as a packing plant for her soft but oversized buttocks, and What does a woman have to do, she speaks honestly.

Frank, you bounding, brain dead, mere mortal, I asked you to answer the phone,: and stop giving me, That look;  You know the one I mean!  I am not interested, and look at this, first name;  George,”  “I am so angry with you that you can get up off the floor yourself;  I said; stop looking at me that way, because you know I need some prep time, and you have made me miss my call again.”

“I am much too embarrassed and upset to call again tonight, and didn’t you hear me yell when my bra was stuck on the door knob and the hairspray hit the floor.  I am telling you my dear growing older husband, that you need a hearing aide!  Wipe that smirk off your face and, I said;  Stop looking at me that way, and you know what I mean.”

Our dear Frank tries to be sympathetic, for he still has a little hope of something good coming from this, so he answers her plea with, “I am so sorry sweetheart.”

“I am not your sweet heart, as she reaches for his shirt to cover herself, a soft, manly smelling flannel shirt which she had given him for Christmas, and it feels good, all warm and snuggly, so these words are uttered;  “I forgive you, but only because you called me sweetheart, and turning to walk away, she steps on one of the grand kids toys, a little wooden helicopter which hurts like hell, and she moans from deep within, and wails a little sob;  “This is not my day;  This is not my life,” and she remembers those famous old words;  “I can take care of this tomorrow; Yes, Frank – Tommorow will be soon enough.”

You just cannot miss two phone calls from George Clooney and waste another minute of his time when he has dilligently endeavored to reach you all day, so I will sit on the toilet lid, look at old catalogues and sob.  Frank could no longer feel as energetic either, for when I, your most important author, wound up with foul words spewing from my mouth, for someone had endeavored to put some super glue on that helicopter I stepped on, over that toilet lid just in the place where my old undies didn’t quite fit, and my butt was glued to the toilet, so I am left with calling, “The Poison Control Center,” to get my sorry ass unstuck.  Once freed;  I just sniffle, and decide it is lights out time for myself.  “What the heck does it matter anyway.?”

( Now, you all, join us again tomorrow, for it has got to get better than this;  How bad can one’s luck really be;  Do not answer that.)

Frank, my husband, you may hear a lot about him over the next few weeks as I begin my trek to Hollywood with my book, “Pinkhoneysuckle.”  Oh my God!  Look at the call back numbers on this telephone, Frank;  This says; George, and I think that charming man must have finally got the copy of my book, and FGS, I had sent it in time for Christmas, but those cheap damned postal rates for books gets you every time right in the knickers, but it appears that my movie director is endeavoring to call me here in Cincinnati. 

I want to return the call, but I am just trembling, and the last thing in the world I want him to think is that an insane woman wrote my book.  I think I will have a sip of that two buck Cluck which you got at the Stop and Rob when you were out.  People act like such fools over wine and how much one must pay for it, and all they have to do is go by the Stop and Rob and get a chilled bottle of the white table stuff.  I have had many a party where I place a big soft napkin around the bottle and have our teen age neighbor who is underage to drink, but he loves to serve, so I have Wendell come over and pour, and you cannot tell the differents two dollars or fifteen;  What does it matter, for as one of my neighbor’s once said back when we lived frugally;  I can piss better piss than half these wines taste out there.  Needless to say, we always made sure she was pouring from a bottle.  I know that I should not have Wendell serving booze, for he is too young, and I just have to collect myself here.

Gosh;  Oh Gee Cheez Whiz!  Frank, do you think that George is getting ready to sit with me and talk about the movie.  Should I call him back;  You know how nervous I get when I speak on the phone, and then I get tremors, and I say something stupid like;  “Is that a raisin or your shirt, or did you have something fall out of your nose, then I say bugger when I mean bugger, and then I remember I am too old to be saying nasty things like bugger, and I should say;  “Mucoid, dark thing on your shirt;  You might want to check.  Let me take a sip;  Ah;  just a little sip;  It helps a woman out when she is under this kind of stress.

You see, Frank I think there is a fine balance here of not making George Clooney think I am a lunatic, for after he reads my book;  He may figure that was my only fate possible, but I have you my baby; Sip; oh my sweet husband, but I need your opinion here.  I just have this feeling that I will come off as to anxious, and I have had those pulmonary embolisms, and I was getting short of breath today, or as we call it in healthcare; SOB, and everyone who peaks at their chart thinks it is a short for, “Son of A Bitch,” and we have to explain that one.  I get tired, just tired of frazzled nerves, and this has me all excited.  I do not want to hurt your feelings either, Frank, but I get that; sip, warm feeling just watching Mr. Clooney on the big screen, so will it be ackward that I blush like a lightning bug every time he accidentally touches my foot under the table; sip.

Alright, I am getting it together, and the news is going to get out that George is endeavoring to make a film based on my book, then we’ll have people climbing six floors up and coming down the chimneys;  “Damned fools!”  I am not going to get a minutes rest until I figure out if I should try to call him back tonight; Sip; sip.  Now I am not just going to be an author;  I am going to HOLLYWOOD, though I am going to encourage him to go back to Tennesse and Alabama with me to do some filming, and then there is the trip to India to find a cotton patch.

Frank smiles approvingly at me, and gives me a wonderful hug, not much on kissing these days, because he knows that I am not in good working order, so to speak, but he just says;  “It is your decision dear;”  but most people would have had George Clooney on that phone an hour ago.  By now, The two buck Cluck has calmed me down, and I look at the phone once more…

First Episode of, “Pinkhoneysuckle,”  Will Barbara make it to Hollywood, and will she remain a warm and loving wife;  What will she do; Phone? Not Phone?  I do not have a clue yet.  “Wendell,” Go home now, for Mr. Heintz and I have things to discuss.

FOLLOW THE SERIES OF ‘PINKHONEYSUCKLE’S DECISIONS FOR BETTER OR WORSE OVER THE WEEKS TO COME, AND DO NOT FORGET TO CHECK IN THE EARLIER JANUARY BLOGS TO SEE HOW YOU CAN VISIT SAN FRANCISCO BY WINNING A SIMPLE CONTEST;  READ ALL RULES;  ABSOLUTELY ALL RULES AND YOU HAVE UNTIL MARCH 15TH TO BECOME A PARTICIPANT.

“Happy New Year,” and to those who shared their hearts with me;  I am recovering well from my near death experience, and I am going to lay it on the table my friends; “Pinkhoneysuckle,” the book is getting rave verbal reviews, and the beautiful Yale/Harvard woman who did my first review brought tears flowing like the river of shame where once we looked across always wondering who was on the other side.  Karen Paik only gives compliments when they are due, and I give my heart of thanks that she would take the time to help you to know what, “Pinkhoneysuckle,” is all about.  She gave it all she could in her paragraphs of love for this book, and Karen Paik, Esq. knows there is even more that she did not have room to express.  I have been with Xanga for a long time now, and it is my hope that in this new year you might think of picking up my book, “Pinkhoneysuckle,” available at Kindle and Amazon, for you are going to visit an America where people have been shoved back in the hollows, without, but this time even more without, for so many younger folks did not learn the agrarian ways of their parents.  Violence has always been there, especially toward women and to children.  The kind of home made pharmaceuticals which have come in to being since the backwoods sheltered the moonshiners was an innocent place compared to what the young people are exposed to now, and you, my friends are not helping.

You call my people of the Southern Appalachian chain and on up in to the state of Maine, The Rednecks, The Hillbillies, The White Trash, and The Bible Thumpers, so you help to keep them feeling that they are only worth the back end of your nasty little jokes.  You make remarks which suggest that a virgin is always a virgin until one of her family members gets a hold on her, and you think the women’s teeth have come out by their choice.  No child ever grew up saying that, “Mama,” When I grow up, I want to sniff gasoline, do Crack, Metamphetamines, Cheap Wine, and live as a whore in some nasty old trailer off the highway where there may not even be a working toilet.  No young men have gone and said, “Daddy,”  I want you to shove a cigarette in my face, pack it tight with a piece of that poison which makes you crazy then kills you in the long run, and while you are at it, Old Man, would you see that I am an old sot, a wife beater, and an abuser of my own children sexually, because that is what the outside world wants of us.” 

Mam and Sir;  No words describe the damage which incest brings to a woman, to a girl, and every child starts out the same in this world with a cry for a mother to feed them, to take her to the breast, and to nurse coming again and again there to be comforted.  I am so tired of people tearing country religion apart when, if at no other time, people are expected to come together, to hear the news, and are asked to serve their neighbor.  Being religious has a cost, for you have to be a good liar in places where I am from, for we know that to be a snitch puts your whole family in danger, so everyone just pretends they do not know what happened to the girl who would sit in the middle of an interstate waiting for a car to run over her, and those young men did not mean to hit the cars or the church buses when they were buzzed and out drunk, but, For the most part;  One keeps the law away and out of their business Christian or not, for the devil is always lurking behind the trees and ready to pounce.  Religion can raise community standards, and with trash TV and phony preachers of the gospel who will shout, “Oh I have sinned against you Lord,”  then faith power began to be lost as a safe harbor for the ones who have lost.  Praise God for the mothers and fathers who do protect their children in The Bible Belt.

It is savagery what families will do to others, as was done unto my parents, but so long as we have the, “Have A Little Folks, Showing off to the “Not Have Much,” who in turn has no one else to make them feel better about themselves than the poverty of their neighbors;  Then the class structure will continue from generation to generation destroy the will and the hope of younger people who want better for their families.  “Pinkhoneysuckle,” shows that people are often purposefully kept in slavery conditions to keep a sub set of individuals who can be worked for next to nothing.  These are a few glimpses of what my book discusses, and you will feel ashamed and as if your heart is ripped out by the core, because there are some sins that cannot be justified, and the sin of pretending people deserve what they are born in to is the, “Big Lie,”  and I could tell you that there were those of us who learned very early in life that those we could respect in our later life;  we could count on our fingers.

I would like for the United States and the countries who kept up as I blogged it over less than two years to now come back and see my book, “Pinkhoneysuckle,” for it is worthy of a glance from Hollywood, for the best movies have always been, “Truth,” so I do encourage you to either purchase the book from Amazon and/or Kindle, to loan it out, to go to the lender’s library if you do not want to purchase my book, and to all who would say;  “It is all about the money,” then you are wrong.  It cost to publish a book, and I am just beginning to market it, but if it will open eyes; leave you with voices in the night which ask you act on instinct and help a child who is desparate; Then my job is done. 

I ask you;  “Who would not like to have money or some sign that their work made a difference in other’s lives?”  I would love to make a few million dollars, and if I did;  I can reassure you that a large portion of it would go back to give something to the people I had to leave to survive, and it would be given in a form of uniting churches, schools, and people from the mountains to the valleys how to live once more off the land under their feet, and how groups can accomplish so much more than individuals.

One of the saddest days in my own county of Franklin in Tennessee was when The Beechy Family of the Amish Mennonite Community had to leave because their family numbers had exceeded 17, and they had to go to help in another community, but no one will ever forget how one family built a bakery, took over a molasses mill, made a furniture shop where you could have things made to order, and sitll had time to take care of the elderly and the poor.  My mother gave them her blueberries and other things from her garden, and they gave to my mother and my father the love and help far beyond what the public sector could provide and beyond what their Social Security checks would pay for.  I will never forget them, and they know if they come out to California;  They can give me a couple of hours notice, and we will spread the quilts for a night, for they are angels in disguise.

I do not think they would like my book very much, for it is too raw for them, but in the end, they will know that it was done from a heart filled with love who felt the truth could change a path and heal the past, and they would forgive me for my own sins of the flesh, and they would understand that to some people it takes some hard facts to bring them in to the light.  They count the cost, and the cost in their lives is labor.  “Pinkhoneysuckle,”  will never sit in their stores, for it is too personal, too sensual, and too grounded in telling what is in the world, but they would know that the writing was done for a higher person by me, so I beg your attention and ask your help in promoting, “Pinkhoneysuckle,” by Barbara Everett Heintz with a forward by my brother, Robert Van Everett which sets the stage for the book to be ready.

Mr. George Clooney, go by Shake It Records in Northside, for this is a project worth a look from you folks, and I will be waiting to hear what you think about it…

Again, Happy New Year, and More Later From, “Pinkhoneysuckle,” – BEH

Bless you this Christmas my friends who probably think that I am lost in a vat of Holiday swill created by all of the Christmas fruits which I could get my hands on this year;  Really, Christmas pears, and certainly they may be Hannukah, Kwanza, or whatever kind of pears that are packaged softly and which will turn golden by the time you see your family sipping the juices from the core and watching the sweet nectar of this and remembrances of Christmas past running down their chins with joy just to be here one more year.  It is my blessing.

The truth is that I think almost dying left me in a state of latent consumerism where I just wanted the family and friends to have all that they remembered needing and loved having been blessed so many grown up years of my life to be able to shop for some of their wants, and I always thing that children and adults should receive, not just the frivolous, but also the everyday things which no one even dreams of saying thanks for but once a year when it is new at Christmas.

The PEs, except that I have blood drawn every week, and I have to take anticoagulants to keep it from happening again left me with so little time to take care of so many.  I have done zero marketing on Pinkhoneysuckle, and no writing for my web site or for Revolution earth for weeks now, but I just want you all to know that I am out here, that, “Pinkhoneysuckle,” did make it on to kindle, and if any of you are reading it;  Would you please drop a note in the Reviews section where the book and e-book are sold, for it would mean the world to me.  I have asked many friends, but like me;  No one seems to have time for anything but making the family happy at this Christmas.

I love the very word, the thoughts of a mother walking herself in to labor, and how the family must have felt that night in the warm quarters of a stable, not a bad place to be in Bible times, and I wish we knew more about Joseph, and someday in the caves of the Middle East;  Perhaps we will find other scrolls to help us know this father of Jesus, this Jewish man who had to help with the birthing, and probably rested near Mary as she nursed her newborn and went into the after birth sleep where you are so tired that it seems as if every muscle relaxes, and a fed baby slept on her breast and near her warm body; and I believe the women would have washed her clean and prepared to catch the after birth in the way that women had then, and she would have had many mothers that night, and this we celebrate, and we call it Christmas, and no matter how tired I am, when it is done, then I thank God for the blessing of it.  I have been charitable in many ways, for charity and love are among places I focus, and believe me when I say, one does not have to look far to see need right now.

Bless you my friends;  We will talk during the later hours of Christmas twelve days, and may those covered in snow just go in; relax now, call the work done, and be glad to be home.

God Bless you from East to West — North to South, and take each of us to a magical place and memory as we celebrate one of the great Holidays.

Amen To All and For All

I will have boxes and bags which at some point before Easter;  I will finally realize all must be emptied, sent to better hands, or left for the hands of time to ask; “Mom, What were you thinking, and I will come behind them when I am at rest in the promised land, and I will whisper as only birds can and as my soul flits from place to place that the boxes were well intended, and the bega; just more, and for everything I stashed away I gave believing that I had finally the one thing which a male child or my husband could have acted delighted to receive over these winter Hilidays, before we move on to the land of snow.  “Oh pretty bird;  I meant well, and I tried so hard to find a gift they would love.  One son always needs so very much, because his job has been lateral in movement while two other sons have all they want and need, because they became powerful lawyers, and then there is my husband again who says things like;  “Oh just do not get me anything, for I am a,lmost 70, and I have all that I want, knowing full well that I will not get stuck on that limb.  One Christmas, He sat, and before the packages were bare, he had about seven single malt scotches before him.  The Scotch connoisseur will immediately know this adds up to the down payment on a car, but we know that, if nothing else, his liver will begin the process of being pickled, so maybe if he passes on, then we have preserved a part of him.  The boys are not much better except for the one who really needs money, and that is easier, for we can never give enough, and GUILT is written on all of our faces as we see what his family has chosen for us, but MEN OF THE WORLD;  What is it that you want for Christmas gifts when you believe in more natural living, socks which do not match;  underwear with the hole just large enough to let the outline of your buttocks seem bare and distorted;  And you wear sweat pants which a well trained monkey would avoid,  So give me a clue;  What is it that men want for Christmas which is not a Rolex, a Hot Car, A Book of  Culture regarding an unknown society which allows needles to be stuck in places which hurt, or Trips to places such as, “The Mustang Ranch,”  which simply disgust all decent women out here, especially as we age and we have self image isssues glowing like starlight flashing all over our faces;  What do you men consider to be an adequate Christmas gift, and come on;  I have already given Prokofiev’s Cello Suites a dozen times, and stopped as low as French truffles found by pig snouts: So give me a clue.

My Uncle Joe was among the foulest mouthed people on the face of the earth, and instead of telling us what he remembered from The Battle of The Bulge when we would ask about that noble experience;  He was apt to say things like; “The best thing I liked about the war was being in France and having a different whore every night;” and we would just give up, but every Christmas he would tell this same old joke;  “I got two things for Christmas; (Hee Hee; Haw Haw; Snort), a shirt and a piece of ass and they were both too big.”  All the men would laugh as if they had never heard it before, and we women sort would show the despair which must be shown when someone is so sacrilegious about the day when we were to acknowledge that God came among us more than two thousand years ago, so we acted as if we did not hear a thing.

What does one give to the guy who wants nothing, but who then complains because we could be no more imaginative than seven single malt scotches?  We are hurting here, and when we are over 60 it appears that it may be as well to remember sorry old Uncle Joe and what he would give;  But come on now;  We need prep time, and as the years pass;  It goes from minutes to days to ready ourselves for the great encounters of intimacy;  Not that we are not interested in our mates;  Well, we just need all of our things to gather and to make this a meaningful experience.  I leave it in your hands though;  “God Bless You Merry  Gentlemen Who Comes Up With The Highest Score, for if there is something we women do not get;  It is men and presents.  Your help would be greatly appreciated.  Needless to say he will be receiving his hard backed copy of my,  “Pinkhoneysuckle,”  Good tidings, great cheer, and another train he can play with the grandchildren.  Then he always requests Packer’s Pine Tar Soap which is better than some things he could be requesting at this tender age.

Blesings Santa’s Helpers,
“Pinkhoneysuckle”

It is Advent for some of us, that journey toward Christmas when darkness became light, and we seek to find goodness or at least something around us that showers us with comfort, love, and consolaiton.  Long ago we were touched with Chrism as the sacred sign that we were part of something which seems impossible to  I can  believe at times, but too miraculous to ignore.  Over my weeks of pulmonary embolisms running around in my lungs like the little balls on the pooltable, the went in the most unlikely places and no harm came.  But I have failed to tell my readers from across the globe just how much I praise that they would come to my site. Honestly, through the production of this book, I have had readers from Italy, France, Spain, Germany, Iceland, Findland,Norway, and the United Kingdom.  I have heard from Saudis, Russia, Poland, Pacific and Atlantic Ilanders, Ukraine, Moroccco, The Netherlands, Sweden, and most states of The United States, and I want to tell you my friends;  Did you know that it meant the world to me that you dropped by?

I would see Asian countries from Korea, China, and Japan, India, and Pakistan, all over a course of three years.  Now and then an African nation would  drop by, “Pinkhoneysuckle,” and when I saw the world coming to me;  Then I wondered why we are at war any where;  Why is anyone hungry over this world?  Why did I not know about Tsunamis, dust storms, raging floods, and all the things which would touch us in one three year cycle, and I am convinced that if the world gathered at my blog site;  Then we can gather at the table ending all war and discord which adds up to the eventual destruciton of mankind, for the doors are open, from Israel to Palestine, to the wounded world wherever we dwell.  Oh;  Please come to my table, and know that it is a time we to end all method of killing our Universay brothers and sisters; to sweep out the hate from Havanna all the wway to Senegal.

I believe all of us have similar problems, and that is that corporations, people entitled in the highest levels of wealth, and media which likes to chew up and spit out candidates for entertainment fixes our heards to all of the word that we are not big enough to solve our own problems, and I beg your pardon;  But you;  the gentry;  You are the root problem.  How could a nice man by the name of, “Obama,” become our president and not end the useless blood shed on dessert sand any where?  I knew after hearing him give the key note speech those years ago at the Democratic convention that he was someone very special, and people needed to shake in their boots for a while, beg our congress people to help him ot, and this would be a better world.  I do not want him to go down in history as the, “Do Nothing President,” when he had a “Do Nothing,” Congress dancing on the head of a pin with a bunch of lobbyist.  I would like for him to look at the books again from scripture to his Harvard Law text books to know that he still has a shot at pulling out respect, tall and magnificent;  Deep and as wide as the Jordan River in its best places if he came to us, the people, instead of just lying down and hoping foar a new leader.  I understand wanting a moral citizen to take office, but money and corruption have become the seed of our Presidential and congressional elections;  So come on Mr. Obama;  Start a State of The Union Address, and let us know what it is like to be a president where no matter the good which you are undertaking will be melted away to make room for rats and lobbyist to whom congress must answer too instead of the broader themes of food, home, healtch care, appropriate schooling for all children, and the bright and shining moments of truth.  Please Mr. President;  Prepare to speak the truth and let us know who is running this country, for it is not new.  How long;  Oh Lord of Mercy;  How long will you sacrifice our children.  Call them home;  fix the infrastructure here, and I can make the family table beautiful, feed you all well, and give you the hope to be remembered as the first President, and the first Congress that just said in your hearts that people have had it, and we are looking for anyone but any of you;  Because we have lost all faith.  Internet and television might whisper to our spirits;  But only God can reach our souls, so please;  Hear this pathetic Grandmother blogger when I tell you that the people have had enough, and you took cannot close the poor out of their homes, lock their doors, and let the fate of those buildings be decided by a bunch of people who prefer empty spaces and for whom;  Let yourself be remembered, that in the end;  If you loose it will be because of what you have not done, not the accusatory stance of just giving up because money is bigger than you.  We are awaiting, but as I wait;  Again, I bow my head, I close my eyes and see how many of you who came to the door of my blog, for the time had come to tell you that America,too, has a erd world, and until we see these areas I discuss in, “Pinkhoneysuckle,” fixed, then we have no right to be judging the world and declaring that we have found the way.

Bless you who keep coming to my site, and I know that I am repetitious in the word of the blog;  But I am going to keep saying what I believe my country men and women are asking for help with hevy hearts, and you are just sending them away not a whole lot better than our yesterdays, because to get elected there is a proverbial noose around your neck, and you may as well call it, “Bling,” for you wear it proudly, and it changes you so firmly that you forgot on which rock you stood looking down and believing that you were going to make a better world.

Oh thank you all so very much, within my head, and within my heart for coming to meet, “Pinkhoneysuckle,” and I can ressure you the book has a place for you, for the, “Home girl,” never forgets her roots.
Happy Advent, everyone.
Love, Barb, “Pinkhoneysuckle,” Author;  Now Kindle ready as well;  I humbly ask that you give it a try, for when I go in to work for a book signing;  Everyone of you have supported me along the way;  So thank you; And Love.
Barb Hz

Hello all my Xanga friends, and I am not dead yet!  I am still hanging in after the Pulmonary Embolisms, and darned;  wouldn’t you know it, that I did not even get to feel sorry for myself, for it turns out my good friend down in Tennessee wound up having her leg off from Nosicomal Infection;  And you all know about it, for MRSA became a name and not the entire title:  Methacillin Resistant Staff Aurius, and sure;  I know it; I hear you, that I should not write it unless I can spell it, but you get the picture. So once the infection took hold, and she was in the OR;   She had the PE; so now I have to shut up about my pains;  Or do I?

I wonder if there is anyone out there who would like to trade my gallstones when they can take them out after my blood decides that I can stop taking the rat poison;   Warfarin;  That is the real name of Coumadin, but your getting the picture;  Yes, I know a lot about medicine from my former life as an overly educated nurse.  I did not even tell most of my nurse friends that I left a pre-med program, because why should they know that I wasted a whole bunch of money in college when I got sick back then.  Hey you;  Forget it;  No I do not have hypochondriasis;  I have just had a bitch of a life, and May you be able to be so competent when you reach my age of 60 something.

We have to talk though, but first, I am going to wish you a glorious Advent on the road to Christmas, or eight glorious nights if you are going to celebrate Hannukah;  Just celebrate something and do something nice for someone, for a whole lot of folks are needing some help right now, so we may as well pack up our whining and moaning, for as long as we can go to Xanga;  We have got it pretty good, and I mean that;  So be happy, and look at the stars, Think of miracles, wise men, and shepherds.  Think of Adam and Eve, and a one word term which came from John Steinbeck’s book, “East of Eden,”  which in Hebrew wound up meaning;  “Thou Willeth,” or something akin to that;  But it was beautiful this story, and the birth of, “Free will,” which can be one word according to Steinbeck to describe that we can screw up or find the best depending on whatever we will to do so ourselves.  Most of us screw it up rather harshly;  but;  It is Christmas, so we will not go in to the demonic sickness which causes us to hurt, much less that we go to war, and we simply choose to make other people’s lives miserable;  Because choice was the first gift that God gave us;  That;  Free Will thing again.

So we just need to hope and to pray that we can find our way back to Eden, but we have gone on a few millenniums;  And still here we are seeking that one thing we have control over, our destinies, so so we think.

Now I mean this.  All of you know that my book, “Pinkhoneysuckle,” is out there, and folks love the free stuff, but I will have to modify that somehow, because once you have many thousand dollars invested in this;  Then you start getting the picture that there is no time on the face of the earth that is worse to publish a book right now.  I did not go with the one company which I learned had destroyed people;  I went with one of their cousins.  I am not going to go in to this too deeply, for we shall talk after Christmas.

My chosen company, as it turns out, for I did not read the fine print, at no time does any of the people you talk to read your book, one of their confessions.  You never will meet your editor, and mine had many nice things to say about me.  Self publishing houses are popping up like popcorn, but they are going to tell you theirs is the one who gets the job done, and then you are going to note that the ten choice and top people who they choose as their best authors of the year are people to whom you nor I can ever expect a party invitation.  Then comes the review process, and the fact that on two occassions;  The lovely people I chose thought they were putting me on hold, and they may as well have said to the whole rag tag group of rebellious folks who are about to get a name change;  “It’s her again;  gales of laughter, and soon they collect themselves and pick up the phone to talk to you again.

In the end they tell you everyone should proofread at least eleven times, and they have an advisor for self-publishing in San Rafael, California who runs a book store in Marin, and when you finish your book;  They let you know that he has written much about self publishing, and that he knows how to do it.  He lives just across the Bay from me in California in among the wealthiest counties per capita in the entire United States, but I do not doubt that he is an honorable and wise man who got hold of this self-publishing stuff long before you or I got off the old typewriters which are now in museums;  But to do well;  You will take all of his suggestions, join as many book clubs as you can, and then you can sell to each other even if you cannot sell to the world.

Among my life’s greatest distractions is that;  I cannot tell you a lie;  so here I go;  Just out with it;  This company with your money outsources your reviews to an older literary magazine, now internet published as well, and I can guarantee you that again;  You will not be having coffee with these folks, but they can ruin your life if you have written your life’s work, but you have to be a little gutsy like me when I am really on the ropes, and the blood is flowing down my cheeks;  You have to say these words;  I will paraphrase;  If you keep that mess out on the internet;  For it is not true and it is atrocious;; Then you are apt to hear from a person in a three piece suit carrying a briefcase, because this is simply unfair, written so pathetically that a 9th grader would get a D;  But because you put it on the internet, It could ruin everything I have done.

I had about four main areas which I was endeavoring to encapsulate with my book;  One;  there is a third world America, and the poor of the Appalachian mountains and valleys have been used by the rest of America for many years.  Agrarian life and independence have been replaced in many cases by people who are in to several generations of welfare, when their families, even when I was young, lived off of the land and with help from their neighbors.  Point one.

Women and children in those communities have suffered  tremendously from spousal and parental abuse, from simply not having the means or the educational background to take care of themselves, and why am I an expert on this;  I am not, except you know what you lived and what your mother and their mother’s had to live through praying that old age might bring some relief, because everyday life was more than many could bear, and thus there came to be the grave problems with addiction, and the birth of codes of silence;;  Right there up and down the Appalachian chains to the coal mines.  People did not want to rat out their neighbor, because they knew the cost would be great to them.  Point two.

Farm and home life left many men at mid-century with one of two choices:  A Northern migration with the family creating new white and black slums, for no one wanted to be with, “The Hillbillies,” which I can say, because I was raised one, and if they thought they lost everything back in the South;  Then in the North, they were sold properties in flood plains, along rail road tracks, and the kids often times were lost in youth to the alcohol and drugs, early sexual behaviors they thought felt good and might work for them;  But only in the 1960s and 1970s did the flow of people begin to turn Southward again;  For most of those families;  It was too late.  Point three.

I told tales from my youth, for they were heartbreaking, filled with a dark humor that crept over all of us to make life bearable, and it gave me something to embroidery the rest of this literature;  some fiction, some history all together and then to take you to Washington, D. C. to show you what it was genuinely like to have come from, “Down there,” as they called it,  and to face the time when American cities, including Washington would be on fire after the death of Dr. Martin Luther King; So I took people through some of my own life there, told you about the death of John and Robert Kennedy, of  Dr. King, and how I genuinely wound up in happenstance situations until I was finally acting as a carrier and secretary straight to the then, D.C. mayor’s office, and would end up at The American Society of  Law, and that was point four;  That sometimes we cheated what was to be our fate.

The reviewer appeared to have used a sentence from a chapter here and there, told the world that I had written a terrible book, I had lived with some VISTA volunteers, said I had been with Coretta King, and made some off the wall remarks about Southern Poverty and the Appalachian Mountains, made no real refeerence to Northern Migration and a lost people or the story of how third world America, was, at least self-supporting and filled with pride and hope once.  It was about three paragraphs saying that I wrote disconnectedly and rambled on;  And maybe it was my style, but it did not do anything for the book.  My friends;   I would have died, but three nights before that review came out, I had gotten a letter from a Yale undergraduate, Harvard educated lawyer who was amazed by the book and called it riveting.  My physician in San Francisco said he went through 36 of the short chapters in no time;  And I had been fortunate to have others just come out and say that they had no idea all of what I wrote was going on while the country slept.

Their editor;  the publisher’s editor wrote me a personal aside after she read the roughest copy imaginable that if people did not see the beauty in the story; Then they just could not recognize beauty when it was placed right in front of them.

So I am going to give my Xanga friends a heads up;  I had seen that these folks were way lower on the self-publishing list at that time than they had told me;  But my son knew they would only own me for two years compared to eight years that destroyed people’s lives in another such publishing company.  If you ever do this;  I warn you;  Record your phone conversations and keep them on a disc as to what you are paying for.  Talk to other people, not just me with a few great friends, the right equipment and marketing skills you can save yourself a ton of money.  I am sorry  that this review was scandalous, and you are allowed to know nothing about the reviewer.  In my case I could make guesses;  The company is in South Carolina;  I beat up a little on some of the Buckle of the Bible belt, but not with shame, but there are still class distinctions which people really do not want to hear about;  But the thorny part is that reviewer probably does this for low pay,  probably do not want to hear about these uppity Americans who explain that white people and black people, and a lot of folks along The Appalachian trail have borne a life most people would die for.

This person made no mention of the children who died and had burials in back yards, of the problems of teenage pregnancies, for it was a way of getting out of situations, which in some of our cases;  may or may not have been incestuous, but three paragraphs and this person I would never meet could have ruined my book, my hopes of ever marketing it, and I am here fellow Xangans to tell you that I have now begun my own marketing which includes some very educated people, for you are going to get book marks, posters, and business cards if you want to pay a few other hundred dollars which can be done by anyone with photo shop.  I did not know kids.

Now you know where I have been, and a little more about self-publishing, and I could write you several more pages, but I am going to have a heart and tell you that the one stupid thing I did was to not ask around, so you need but ask;  I am here, and we can talk about what might be a rational goal in a world where books are about to become a dime a dozen for about the next 50 years, for that is the point where the old will become new again;  All of life is a cycle;  and I waited to late to enter this market.

For now it is known about as a book from Noe Vallley in San Francisco to a sweet little community called; Madison, Indiana.  I have left copies along trails, and I will probably never get my money back;  But if I can help you to not get burned like me;  then I will gladly try.

Now it is on Amazon, “Pinkhoneysuckle,” and even kindle, and my name is Barbara Everett Heintz, and I am not Barbara Everett who has tons of academic books and papers from Amherst;  I’m not that old!  I told you that I would wait until the end of the process to fill you in, so there you have it kids.  God Bless you All.  A company called Create Space is about to be changed to Book Surge, so know that it is one in the same.  Create Space has my book too, and that is all I am saying.

Merry Christmas;  Happy Winter;  Glory to God, and Love,
Barbara Everett Heintz

I thought that if Amazon meant anything beyond itself that it meant having some social responsibility to the people of The United States of America.  We took a short drive over Route 50 on this main Holiday which begins a celebration;  An Advent toward Christmas where those who wish can buy the cheap little Advent Calendars, and move along to show the children how and why we celebrate the journey and endurance of an ancient couple moving toward Bethlehem when  more than 2000 years ago;  A child would be born in the comfort of his stable bed near the animals for his mother’s warmth;  And thus began the Christmas which was fortold centuries before in the book of “Isaiah; ” that a child would be born to such a woman and in such a village of modest circumstances, and that this birth would change the face of the earth.

I would like to write all that is so amazing and marvelous about anything which was foretold by books of a Sacred text which began almost 6000 years ago.  The scribes spoke of an event which would occur within the Judaic line, and though our forefathers sometimes were loathe to admit it;  That which was written said this, “Savior,”  would come out of the Judaic line, and the astrologers of old would also teach that the miracle would not occur among the Regal Lines, but would occur in modest circumstances.  From recorded History of such kind;  A child came forth from The House of David,  And for those who must argue, it is true that there were people then who would continue to worship objects;  For it would take another couple of millennium for enough parchment and languages, and the ability to write an oral history of when all that took place began., and the naysayers could continue their denial, and more prophets would touch other cultures;  and the prophets of many cultures on the known earth would tell the story.  It is by full  choice that many of us choose Christianity, and we believe that we are on to something;  Wonderful! Marvelous!
 
 We moved on , and we moved far and wide, and we became many from that age, and we  left much of what was asked of us behind;  except for articles of faith of that event which occurred .  It was a story, beyond human imagination but it would salvage nations after wars, man’s wars  to divide and to conquer left with many a question as to how a Christ could let all of this happen.  Christians would know the Evil was the counter nature, and it was theirs to  Bear shame; To  Bear hope, and it would be almost impossible for  there to be understanding that such a  personal adversary would someday mean an ultimate battle, but that at such time;  Good would conquer this Evil of  many names and so many  faces.

Moving in to this modern age; the now, we are seeing humans search again.  Many are without and spirituality is as empty as the store fronts, and I want to share a story about Amazon and business with them as a small example, for now we are looking for ways to fill all kinds of empty spaces from without and from within, and we have taken the forefathers regarding the intent of the Constitution of The United States, and have made a mockery of those rules of man  guided by people who had come to this country for one main reason beyond wealth;  “Religious life of the Pilgrims was to leave behind the old world and to bring in the new where new ideas had sprung up over a few more millennia, and the  “Freedom of Speech,” they so valued was not to   become the new age cry of acting fully on our own free will.  Gathering in groups of opposing views to that of the English throne no longer had to be feared was the hallmark of  Freedom of speech at the time of the writing of the Constitution of the United States and did  not intend to destroy that a Biblical text was, in their view, a guiding force. In fact most of those laws came from Biblical literature at that time  In our on Colonial years;  a person who openly cursed was apt to face bondage in  painful stocks and to experience public ridicule for going against societal expectations.  The Supreme Court is our ultimate arbiter of what the Constitution meant and to endeavor to make the verbage  for modern lives just under the same laws leads to think tanks asking;  “Now how do we make this one fit as such we can run it by the ravel we call uneducated citizens!!  Let us just face it that Freedom of Speech and Expression came to most Constitutional Lawyers and Supreme Court Justices as a post to lean on when people wanted to change societal behaviors to fit the times.  Constitutional law has little to do with what Washington, Adams and Jefferson envisioned.  If they saw what the three great divisions of power has come to mean never hearing of lobbyist, corporate greed, and even that citizens have been misplaced in the working world by E Commerce, then I believe they would be looking for other lands once more. There may even be more conscious efforts to find life outside of the known solar syatem with plans for new colonies!

I am expecting now to take off on a real deep and dark discussion of how that has served the rich and a society, such as ours who left all that was precious behind from our beginning.  Look around my friend, and see the newer age where Americans continue to lose any intent of what was meant by the forefathers which would lead to the prosperity of lands and people then to engage ourselves and to see that powers, mainly money mongers, think tanks and Congressional and Presidential decisions have made a mockery of much that was good enough which began when a ragged group who did not bath very often sat down to write the laws of our land as such we could grow in the spirit and truth of those times.  Bless the souls of the dead who now see the harm that comes with sabotaging the intent of our Fathers and Mothers to see that we are a people who need to re-evaluate how this country, its courts, and our people actually would live if we accepted that we were once a country of laws who felt scorn even then that the rich who came just got richer.

I will begin by sharing news of Amazon, a company we thought had a uniquely American Flavor for service, and please do not be too amused that I could go from the father’s of Judaica, the birth of Christ, and the United States Constitution to endeavor to show you how troubled and selfish our Ultra Rich have become.  I begin to show you we need serious help after my encounter with our old and dependable friend, Amazon.  I begin with my intent
 to ask a question  of them when and learned that the customer service to be albeit unable to comprehend that I was a writer of a book and that I wanted to know how one sets apart Create Space, Amazon, and Kindle royalties;  and with particularly pathetic service from phone Amazon services before;  I asked the sale’s person what place I was calling;  What sad shark tank, and low and behold;  I was reaching the Phillipines for USA Amazon customer service;  And I wondered what callous CEO decided that these jobs should have left the United States of America, for along route 50, we saw business after business closed while many CEOS pockets are bulging.

The story and guide for Christianity suggests that we live modestly and h;humbly ourselves, and meanwhile the pockets of the E companies pockets are bulging to the brim, and Amazon is counting on your business this year.  I have never heard many CEOs profess that they care or know much about the meagerness of a Virgin’s answer of, “Yes,” to God’s question so long ago, and in fact it is the opposite, for they are so very self absorbed  that they have become little Gods themselves.  I have mentioned before that we are apparently too darned stupid to look out for our own well being;  So our ultra rich must lay out their foundations and must reach Billionaire standards and send jobs to India, to China, To the Philippines , and over the the earth to make even more money than to trust US poor people with the opportunity to make a living.  “Trust,” what a beautiful word to cast about when companies need business and are ready to lower the profit margin by forsaking fellow citizens by going across seas for cheap labor, not for the benefit of mankind, and certainly not for the benefit of helping working Americans.  Do you remember when a white shirt suggested success in business?  I do, and that is done away with, for one step higher;  and you might add the coat and the tie.

It is all a lesson;  you see, We dumb rich and middle class Americans with what we have been able to accumulate need to pay more taxes, to wage war, and to have no say in national politics, and that is why we have to be kicked in to shape now and then to be reminded  that only those of wealth, and who avoid the ancient stories, are allowed to change our Christmas traditions to;  “Happy Holidays,” and even those of the lineage of Jesus avoid this, “Merry Christmas,”  for it means something tabu to so many, offends the sensibilities of the non-worshippers;  And American citizens;  Once again, endeavor to destroy our heritage with this Christmas stuff, just too offensive for the tender ears of those who want the celebrations, but not the reasons behind the feasts and giving.  Meanwhile it is their ability to cash in on shows where women on women, and guys on guys;  And needless violence takes away so much beauty which was a part of our early traditions to mix it all up with some wacky events folks like to call fairy tales now to avoid the tougher text of how a line of rebels would die in the name of Christ and to keep celebration with faith symbols at arms length except for cashing in at the box office or the money barrens.  Kindness;  What is Faith without a dollar sign behind it?  Merry; “What do you call it?” Again, we gave up the best part of ourselves as people of faith, because we are afraid to offend! 

But we keep walking and talking and endeavoring to get on the desert walk to Bethlehem every year.  We unite with Judaica to think of a season of light when people are just a little kinder.  We wrap our packages, and in our hearts;  This is a good thing, and more people than ever may not have money this year for packages for the children, the grown ups, and all of us who once longed just for a string of lights, an apple, an orange, and a big peppermint stick to ease some of the hurt from all the bitter herbs thrown on our plates.  We are supposed to kiss off on this material stuff, because smart people tell us that it is shameless indulgence in the unnecessary;  But you can buy this year, for we have not jobs;  It is fashionable to celebrate Holidays when the country is broke!

Gold, Frankincense, and Myrth were beloved things to bring to a newborn child, and we who have much need to give more; but for the, “Bah Humbugs,” of Christmas, most of you do not understand that generosity means that one day and one hour it was a miracle that you thought beyond yourselves, and in your hostility for the shoppers;  I wish you knew how many people were just begging for a package of winter clothing, or a lotion for their chafed skin;  Maybe food that brings back the memories of people and places long forgotten;  So for whatever you are celebrating, and with what little some can spend;  Then I hope that you shall see some kindness;  Feel a little more loved, and chastize every company that sends our things to other countries, because most of you have no doubt;  We are Americans;  We’re broke;  Call out the Jesus freaks until we get back on our feet.  What we know of the rich, the pathetic banks, and;  “The Families, old wealth,”  is that you were the ones who took the keys from family homes, keep breaking apart the small businesses, and make those great big sexy adds for your sorry companies who are willing and eager to leave Americans even deeper in their devastation of  sadness, because they remember a little better time when you had your galas looking like a fashion catalogue, and gave your sniveling little brats more than most children would see in a lifetime;  But;  Hey;  You worked for it;  Now did you not?  Did you accept your big bonus and take away the bonuses of your workers?  Why do you think younger and younger children feel jaded and without, for you feed them with the slick commercials.

  Yes , the new poor want to start looking for Bethlehem, for the poor have it  figured out;  You have gone over the line and have erased spirits and The Spiritual   The people kow what you have done now, and their tears are not going to wash your pathetic feet any more.  As to your embarrassing hearts of stone;  When will you get it – That you are found out, and we know that  you would suck the blood of the poor to ensure that your family will not be without.  You use your dollars to elect worthless people to our government who are not brave enough to go against your Partisan Pets, but word is out and so many have lost everything, that we are talking to our neighbor, helping where we can, and we have not forgotten that a long time ago a revolution occured in this country, and we can use Email, and fragile little notes to send out the word that real change will come when we vote your kind out, and thanks to our fathers of long ago;  We have courage, and we can read and we can write;  And the time is come for the new generations to end your run of tyranny when you take so much that you have to set up off shore trusts.  We will find new candidates, and we shall endure, for we are many, and where we have no faith is in the hierarchy of wealth, and you chose to few to reach the top.  “Times are changing,” and the people are no longer the new slaves.  Enjoy that with your Christmas Cup, for you thought the bottom had no end, but we who can vote, and we who labored are ready to spread our own word;  And truthfully;  We know you own the media too which we once trusted, but you have lost us there too.  You have manipulated one too many voter, and we are now ready to send you home too;  Unlike you;  the hungry will be fed and the imprisoned shall see Justice, for we are walking to Bethlehem one more time.

We are looking at you;  and we  see your callous heart on the way to Bethlehem as if you had been with us all along.  Slumber, but do not sleep;  For we are on to you, and we do not have Dr. King or the Kennedys to guide our way;  But we know that guidance is not your forte;  Thus we are hand and hand as brother and sister;  The black, the white, The once enslaved, and your sufferings have only begun;  And your fate and your justice is in hands which must turn the other way and care for the poor who have waited since the first cry of cradle birth was written and Christmas the very word left your disdain for the poor on the edge of the mountainside which you must climb to meet the mercy, so may you in your path see the horrors which you inflicted without justice or care when you believed light came at your will, and those without deserved the darkness.

Walk now to Bethlehem, and feed the stranger or the way.  Pinkhoneysuckle by author of “Pinkhoneysuckle,” Book by Barbara Everett Heintz