When I get call after unsolicited call offering something free, even money, to our family, then, If I can think quickly, I give my husband’s favorite answer to solicitation calls, “She died,” or, “We’re dead, and no one lives here any more,” but so often now they are Robo calls, so I just hang up, for it is a very sad truth that few people will ever want to give us anything.”  Either because we feel work is character building, which it is, or we feel as if the world is after our material wealth, which on those horrible calls — That is what they want, to get some forlorn or elder human being who does not understand the rule of life, “No one wants to give you anything;” and take them to the cleaners.  It shows our sadness that someday, we may be that elderly person from whom the children have to take our check books, because the Nigerians in Canada who are not the good people of Nigeria — These are mean and ruthless people who would take all that you own for self boasting if for no other reason. 

If I did not know a 90 year old man to whom this happened, a gentleman who had assets here in San Francisco, then I would have thought myself that no one falls for that, but he had sent twenty thousand dollars before his son caught on and took him before a judge to get power of attorney, a subject which my husband and I chose to broach well before we are disabled, but people almost fear that it is a jinx to life if they prepare for their disability.  I understand exactly where they are coming from.

I have been noting a lot of anger on Xanga as of late. I have been a victim of someone I will never contact again, for they were rude, hostile, and that I had ever befriended them must have been that I never looked them up first.  I will admit that I, almost always, check out a friendship request, for we are in an age and time when we do not know the person behind the plastic keys, so it is better to come in to Xanga with a full profile of yourself, and if you are evil and intent on causing harm, and that is your life’s purpose, then you can hurt people on here.  You can hurt people anywhere, but maybe this is where I begin my thoughts of what I could possibly give to each of you that may make tomorrow morning begin in a nice way.  I have been thinking about this a lot, and we all get wrapped up in our needs, in our mortal wishes, and in the desires of our hearts.  You may not understand this yet, but whether we are older or especially when we are younger, it is very hard to understand that all ages have certain needs which are spiritually embedded within us, and they need to be filled, or we speak to robots, or worse — We fein friendship.

I so wish that I could give you all the gift of, “Care.”  It takes time, and if you asked people what they need, most often it falls in the realm of worldly goods, or we do have some few who have learned from, “The Wizard of Oz,” that there are internal gifts which are so much more important than the things of this world.  All of scripture is filled with the need to give of ourselves, so if each of us had enough care, and if we could ask people to spread around the gifts of caring, then loneliness would all but disappear.  We take so much every day without even thinking, the phone call from a joyful child, the kindness of a spouse or lover to do those things which we can no longer do for ourselves, the incidental card from an old friend or now, if we are lucky — We might receive an email which changes our day.  I read back on my friend, Melanie’s letter today, the friend who plants every inch of her front yard in the earliest blooming of all the flowers from snow drops, to crocus, tulips, daffodils, iris, and she has planted so much that in the spring time her whole front entry to the delightful old Victorian where she lives is too beautiful for words.  I may have mentioned this garden before, because I have never seen anyone who has done this, and when the blooming ends, it seems as if little grasses and a touch of ivy fill in until another year her exquisite space.  But I saved a letter to read again which she had written to me as she was receiving surgery and chemotherapy for an astrocytoma which means a star shaped tumor which was on her brain, and she had gotten through the treatment, but she cared enough to mention that her garden was fooled by some early warmth in Cincinnati, but she thought they would be spared, for snow and some cold that followed seemed to have put them back in to their dormant phase.  She has had cancer, safely removed;   “Thank you God,” but she is concerned that I get back to Ohio early enough to see the splendid garden.  I am not much of a drinker, but I will swear that if her garden is all in bloom; Then when I get in and get unjet-lagged, I am going to take a bottle of wine, and Melanie and I shall enjoy the garden and wine.  She lives across the street from where Mr. Proctor of Proctor and Gamble went to church and thought up the name for Ivory soap after a sermon which dealt with, “Ivory Towers,” and masses are still held in this little Episcopal church.

I would do something of care for each of you, because I do not feel that people are feeling very much cared for in their lives.  With younger people and corporations, it is often, not how happy are our workers, but how can we possibly take another dollar out of their wages to make those in the upper offices happy.  In hospitals, “How can we possibly get Mrs. Smith home today, for we cannot get enough procedures done on her today to make this whole day of hospital care twenty times the room charge?”  Care has taken on a factor of cost, and believe it or not younger people, that it used to be that management other than Google and the internet companies really took care of you if you proved to be a loyal employee.  If everyone had a grievance, then a grievance was apt to get resolved, but now people have to form unions to make those things happen, and the power of most unions has been shot in both legs, so even the unions are broken.  I would care for you someway and somehow if you were in need, for a person in need is not a happy person.  I believe that we do show concern for our brothers and sisters who are hungry and unclothed, for I have endeavored to explain to people who complain that cities do not do enough for their homeless when places like San Francisco try so hard to find homeless food and shelter.  Most chronic homeless people could only be kept in lock up mental hospitals, for mental illness is a primary cause of homelessness, and paranoia and a fairly decent climate will see them living out doors.  They are terrified to come inside.

I would do something about all of the anger and bitterness which seems to flow as if bitter herbs were the first meal of the day.  I would endeavor to sooth the angry spirits, and maybe I am giving too much credit here, for there are people who are just mean, and that is the way they are, and nothing is going to change their miserable persona.  We are beyond helping them.  Along with those are the evil ones who hide like jackals ready to pounce always willing to sacrifice another at any cost, for there is evil in this world, and we are warned of evil — The power, the cunning, and we turn our televisions on to it every day.  Today in the Bay Area, it was learned a missing girl had made her last call from The Golden Gate Bridge, a favorite spot for jumpers who desire death, for over the years since its building, I believe one person has survived, and it is a horrible death, for the fall is so fast and the water so deep that the bodies react as if they had hit cement, not a nice picture.  What can be said to sooth anger, for we all experience it, but when it eats people, destroys the lives of families, offends or destroys, then anger is not a very useful tool.  I have certain bottles of anger which I cannot fix or throw away, for some anger is justified, especially if it began in the absence of care by those who inflicted it.  It is the every day anger that raises our blood pressures, that makes us dread the hours, that filters in to every aspect of our lives, then we are overwhelmed with this force, and I wish that there was a way to silence angry voices, anger which is inflicted on women and children, anger toward the elder man who cannot walk fast enough in the crosswalk.  I believe that there are ways of letting that anger just flow away, and to encourage meditation, to encourage an action event such as to confront the person who is inflicting what is bottled up within them, then perhaps we could help an angry person to just walk away and to be free of it.  Anger, being the opposite of love, re-enforces that it carries some evil turf with the emotion.  I cannot take it from you, for every person has their rational as to why this emotion is allowed, but the little stuff of every day; You have the power to lose that.  Save your anger for the hurts which are more malicious and where the opposite of care has been shown to you.  Let it be known, and as best you can, then let that person and that hurt go,  My sister feels that those who have wronged others significantly invariably wind up, “Getting their dues,” a somewhat southern fatalism as she and I were raised in, but as the years go by, I have seen my sister’s words come true.  Is it satisfying to see those who have harmed you in some way hurt?  To my sister, it is just amazing that people do tend to, “Reap what they sow.”   She has been right more than she has been wrong, so the long term things are harder, but I ask you to free yourself of the small things, for the elder man will cross the street many days, and you may as well sit and wait, sing your favorite tune, or if all else fails; Know that is you walking in front of your car, and if you live long enough — It will be, this I promise.

Hope, wonderful hope, I would give you hope.  Hopelessness and despair are terrible bed mates, and they are so terribly needy that it might be hard to have any hope, but until you draw your dying breath, then there is the gift of hope.  I want you to have hope, for it will greet you each day with the news that you are alive, and in this day there is a ray of hope.  Tell that to the parents of Sandy Hook right now, and I think they would almost tremble.  Hope is more easily had if one is on a spiritual journey as such life does not end but begins when we have lived out our natural course of life.  How do I possibly give anyone hope?  How does anyone?  The more atrocities which I hear about, then the less I understand of, “Hope.”  It seems to have to begin with just helping each other through the next hour after Columbine types of incidents, or death in useless war which we continue to wage, and so we begin with a seed, and that is all we have.  I believe the parable of, “The Mustard Seed,” is our lesson on hope, that when darkness falls so deeply we cannot take the next step, then I would like to beg you to first, just rest, and then rise from your bed, and if that is as far as the pain will let you go, then you lie back down, but I think we, all of us out here, we are your hope, and you are hours.  The next day, I want you to rise up and to take a step, but I want a hand reaching for you, and when I think of the parents who lost their children in such horrible ways as holocaust or famine, or murder, I simply pray that someone else with more strength is going to be that hand, and the hands will begin coming from all over, and one step will lead you to the next place one must go, but hope is the narcotic for those who feel hopeless, and we, most of us, have felt hopeless at one point or the other in our lives.  Losing small children has to be the worst of all, and I can only say that were I reaching for a parent and endeavoring to help them make that next step, I believe that I might get around to this statement when they can finally open the door to the outside again — ‘What would your child want you to do the very first thing every day,” and most of us know the answer, “Mama,” “Daddy,” lets go out and play, and if the child is silenced by the evil of death, I would want that parent to know that a child did not want grief every day.  My children wanted to play, and no matter how old they were when you lost them, then I would ask you to begin what they would ask of you.  “Please go out and play.”  Those are words which might sound callous to some, but if I could go back and be with my now grown children, I would do just that, get out with them more.

Hope takes persuasion, and it takes time, so much time.  I want to give to you my gift of having hope in remembering the parable of the sower and remembering that in your life, you will experience pain, hopefully not the pain some of us have known, and, Please, to all who have lost children — Those who have lost with you are the first with outstretched hands.  Another child cannot take the place of the one you lost, but if you are young enough to endeavor, a healthy baby will bring new hope in to your life.  For those who lost the only child they ever had, then perhaps, to work with teens who think they have been through it all, then they may understand through you that money and fame are useless if we believe we have lost all hope.  The prayers of a nation scatter like good seed, and any idiot who would tell you that it is time you put your grief away probably is living a foolish life, for the only people entitled to ask that of you are the children who are yours and who are living.  I feel longingly as if I would like to offer hope, regardless of what sadness  is in your life right now.  The loss of a person in death requires mourning, so to all who mourn I ask you to visualize an out stretched hand, and I believe that child’s spirit will remain with you, but the child would want to dry your tears.  The periods of mourning end, though tears will come now and again.  Just think of a hand who will help you during these times.  A portion of old scripture called God’s telephone by some reads thus, “Call on me and I will answer, and I will tell you things you may not know.”  For some that is help, but we earthlings are not that powerful, but we can lead, talk, help with chores, and we may not know it, but we are creating a quilt pattern, and it is called, “Hope.”

I would like to give people love, and, “No,” I am not offering romantic love.  I would like to give you love as in where to look for love and to see it in action.  Love is an exquisite word which in English can be a noun, a verb, a command, an adjective, a direct object.  There are virtually no ways to not share love and its meaning.  This is a love letter, for I am talking, just talking about something which I would like to give you.  I believe that love surrounds us in the beauty of the ordinary day.  I used to only see clouds which were gray, and then one day I became aware that they were many colors of silver, pure silver, so the days of gray no longer start my day off wrong.  I see love in action, and my life’s goal is to get well enough to do more service whether it is making a family food when they are in loss, but love will not fail you if it is based in truth.  Romance fails all of the times, and two romantics marrying is a dangerous situation, for the old atage is, “We need a gardener somewhere.”  Love is the easiest to talk about, for there is love of friends, love of home, love of the people who are out there doing the work for the poor which I cannot do now.  I believe that when we are feeling lack of love, then we need to go and watch people, for you are going to see many annoyances, but you have gone to find love.  You will see it in the people who give a smile to ones just passing by, in the child who starts to cradle the hand it holds, and sometimes in the romanticism of an elderly couple still holding hands.  The flowers you enjoy as you take a walk were not planted by someone hating the moment, for they were planted as beauty by someone who knows that you or other strangers are walking by and admiring the beauty.  Every person who works in homeless shelters, the people who deliver meals on wheels;  These are acts of love.  We witness love in times of crisis, for people come together.  We offer love when we stop and talk to a friend who just comes to our minds.  We prepare simple gifts, remember a special occasion, or we decide to give someone a hug, because we have not seen them in a while, and we need to share the blessing of one’s presence.  I am all in favor of romantic love, but love in action never fails.  It is there for you and it is there for me if our eyes are wide open.

In a beautiful concert, we love the musicians who are playing for us, or in a play — The actors give to us their very best.  I love the people of many nations from Sweden to South America, and places in between, that people come to my blog site is remarkable love.  I think of what love could do among the nations on earth as the healing balm instead of the cold forbidden bombs.  I honestly wondered what would have if three thousand or so people gathered on the line of North Korea with bags of rice and food and begged the young beloved dictator to just let them leave the food, then would he begin to think more of nations of the world?  We have dealt in war and scorn for the ages of man even after we were told that love over all things abides.  I wish that I could bring love to each of you this day, but you may be better than me at finding it.  I have admitted before that I am flawed in many ways, but when I love, I give it my very best.  I am broken from having been a nurse, for I loved  those patients, and my back aches now to the point of being disabled, but I can remember it happened, because it felt wonderful to be surrounded by love.  This day, and this hour I wish you love.  I wish you all the roses which will bloom this summer from across this beautiful country, and I wish gifts like Melanie’s garden, and  we, together, may bond in hope and love even if we never meet in this life.  We shall, for love can bind us and when love is tested, or when romantic love is broken, or when we are broken for it feels as if someone has not loved us enough; then walk out and seek the shelter of human kindness which will find you if and when you are seeking love.

These are what I have for you this day, and I cannot tie them up in a beautiful package, but I send them forth, and I bind them with the love and the trust of a child.  May the new day bring unto you a harvest of peace and joy.

Barbara Everett Heintz

Author of, “Pinkhoneysuckle,” – The Book, Amazon, Kindle, Create Space, Awards in San Francisco and a First in Hollywood for Most Adaptable to other Media such as film, a movie or documentary.  One woman’s life through the Appalachian Diaspora from traumatic childhood on to the adult during The Civil Rights era.

Have you ever made friends with Xangans who almost seemed like the friend next door, only for them to be there for a little while and to disappear?  I have had this happen in two instances, and I think it speaks more to our fragile society than anything which I did or said to them, but it makes one reluctant to take on a very communicative Xanga pal, and after they were disappearing, I wrote them letters to encourage their writing, for both were interested in the platform of Xanga to hone writing skills, and one even gave me an extremely wonderful review on my weblog.  I miss her especially, for she was such a genuine heart, but my letter went unanswered.

I believe that I am a dinosaur when it comes to what friend means to others, for many people come to Xanga purely to accomplish getting some feed back or to latch on to a couple of favorites to follow and to try out material on.  I know that I cannot get back to the nearly 180 friends who subscribed to my site, so I endeavor to make this promise. That if you send me a private message, I will find the time to respond, and I mean that.  I hope that internet has not become the cocktail party joke, where you go and settle in with everyone who is your best new friend, and then when one leaves — It was all idle chit chat at best, and sometimes people who have not dealt with such social situations really get feelings hurt, but society is often the social set where one may find poster children for the glad hand, the immediate compliment, and if you find one person who is comfortable to sit down to have a drink and chat and let the smoozers smooze, then that is where you are apt to be comfortable.  I admire that in a person, the one who dares to break the mold and does not have their eyes darting back and forth to catch the next person they feel they should, “Chat up with,”  and we all know those people.  One I know is so horrible at it, that as she is speaking to you;  I mean it, she is looking over your head with shifting eyes back and forth — Checking out her next best plan, and I have known her for 36 years, and she is the same person I met all that time ago.  She is about my age, and her boyfriend left her;  Her husband died, and I feel sorrow that life has not been what she expected.  I could have introduced her to people along the way, but her persona was so offensive, that I would put away the thought.

I think I have made a couple or more people on Xanga where we could meet up someday and enjoy the stories of our lives, but I want to know what you all think.  What kind of place is this; Is it competitive for attention?  Is it a writer’s place to practice their skills, or do you see it as more social???

I used it to write a book, and I would have left, but people kept writing me, and right now, I seem to be drawing from the world, not just Americans, and I cannot answer what the upward tick is all about.  Am I about to launch, “Pinkhoneysuckle,”;  Oh yes I am, and I have a show on March 23rd in this Noe Valley and Dolores Hgts region of San Francisco where I live, so I knew what I was out to finish.  I did that, and now I have some special friends.  “Pinkhoneysuckle,” has not had big sales which happened as a result of Xanga, and I would warn writers to have a different plan for Marketing your book, but to just add:  Barbara Everett Heintz, “Pinkhoneysuckle,” Amazon, Kindle, Create Space, and to say yes that I have won two awards, the most meaningful being a first in Hollywood Book Festival 2012.  For those of you who find it offensive, I deeply apologize, for those who offer advice and love; I show as much thanks as humanly possible, and for those who have bought it, I simply Bless them and thank them with all of my heart.

I have never said that you better get out and buy my book, and if you do not give me a good review; then the hell with you.  I just write a note at the end of my articles, for it seemed harmless enough.  Others even have store and their web sites are all about that endeavor, though they do post as well.  If I can order from a Xanga person something which I need, then I am going to check out the price, and I would choose to help a Xangan, just like choosing local markets, although our nearest Whole Foods has simply priced a lot of people out of there, for their is great wealth around here.  I am not against going up the hill to the local Safeway, for they are rather good also.  We all have a limit on what to spend.  We all have limits on what interest us.

But, what are you looking for in a Xanga site?  I know why I got involved, and I know why I will stay on a little longer.

My Blessings Be With All of You, and to the Catholics, Let us please pray for our church to come more in to the new world.  So I am praying for a pope who is a reformer, for it is time to bring the unwelcomed back to the table of plenty.

Barbara Everett Heintz

I am looking around as I have done so many times to see what to take with me when I leave for Ohio, and I have boxes of many sizes to take the things I’ve collected over a year back to the river, and it is much harder this time, for I’m just now getting well enough to even want to go back to grandchildren, the moments I love to drive by the houses we rebuilt, then moved on from for a child needed a better school, or we were the city folk in suburbs, for there were a few places which just seemed away from what we value , that a house lives, breaths, takes in your soul piece by piece, and you will visit to see what happened to all that you once did when we can transport our ions across place and time — the way of Kirk and Spock; or when Jesus appeared in white garments and entrusted his disciples with the three tents of white gleaming in the sun; Was this a metaphor for the power of one who shall return when times are right, and the earth grows dark — Clouds making sounds of groans and thunder, and then the call, “The Call,” and shall we see the marvelous tents radiant against all things with a central figure we have called, “Behold Our God,” for if we are to believe in mysteries, then it would be satisfying to think that we can transverse death and enter where we please to see the work we left behind, to see ourselves at work or play, and to have those days when all feels so well.  We walk with the children until night fall.  What a sight, the vision of ourselves.

What shall I place in my boxes, for I have acquired — Presents for another birthday, angels for another Christmas tree unless I return here by then, and I wish not to, for California is the suburb to me, and for all of the beautiful movies, somehow the arts simply do not speak to me in the same way as near the prarie  where the glaciers left more subtle marks, and where the very air itself becomes excited and electric, spinning off great storms and rainbows to mark their end.  I need to be back in this hospitable place where we swell with pride that we are beautiful in our actions governed by the purity of the way we were — As well as the way we might be.  I see things becoming less diverse in this place at times, for one way of thinking is governed by masses, and think the other way, and your out of the ballpark, and; “You are not good after all, because we know what is right for everyone,” and if all America was up to the standard of California values — Then all is right with the world.”  There seems to be some incongruentcy  in deciding one place is a model for how the country should go and the idea of diversity.  To be diverse, if I understand it, is that differences of thoughts and values are tolerated, and I just see a lot less of beating up on people for not accepting that just everything is not kosher in California, and that people hold on with claws to live a life which retorts, “We can live with the sentiment, but we are people with many beliefs, customs, and directions, but let the great storm fan over the land, and we will go to the unseen  brother or sister of mankind.

Maybe I will take the unanswered Christmas letters and let people know that I needed no death certificate again as another blood clot decided to tear in to my right lung, but since it did not I am feeling nostalgia for Isaac’s baby garment, for Isabella’s gold cross which I got for her on the day of first communion.  I want some more pictures for Rebekah, for she loves pictures so, the daughter Jacob married and brought to our family, Rebekah.  Erica is one I save linens for, Isaac’s special wife, and for Mary — there are the little horse broaches,  and for Catherine, something she may keep for a while, just a while from my collection of small things, for many things are shattered, but I will give her something whole.  My boxes take weeks to unpack, a special dress if I go to a book signing, my favorite pens with which I write thoughts, and the pewter tray of, “Give Us This Day.”  I pack boxes well, for I know now that some will not be opened until I am but vapor on a cold morning’s air.  Dating with death too many times can make one morbid at times, but I will leave as much morbid out as I possibly can.  I asked for new sealing tape, and I already have the bubble wrap, and I close my ears when Frank suggests things are too expensive to ship anymore, for shipping cost more than to purchase, and so he says, but I know better.

I want to take the fire which we use so much in San Francisco, for we are really not where you want to visit for a heat wave.  I have asked for a recipe or two, though the heartland people do not develop a taste for the ocean fish, so those I shall just leave behind except for when the fresh fish comes in at Whole Foods back there.  I have my presents from Christmas past, so those should go in, but my Valentine from Frank will store in my draws where I keep joy and sorrow, the small poems and prayers, and I hope to remember the passport, just in case we travel soon, though will we  The time seems rarely right, but I am even thinking that we might go to  the East Coast for a change, so I must make a summer when I am doing the important things, so in must go the list of life and what is important at this juncture. Of course, I will take my book boards off the wall, and I need the posters Frank had made for me, for as the experts have noted, that in a book cover contest, “Pinkhoneysuckle,” could easily take a first prize, but how to mail them, laminated and large would take a mailing box I cannot make, so maybe they are better left behind.

I will see that everyone has their favorite soaps, and I will take things for the friends, the dear friends made over 30 years.  I do have The Emperor’s Tea which I ordered from China in the freezer, for we may save fine teas in just that way, and I am told of the medicinal power of the first leaves taken at the top of the bush in a special land where The Emperor’s regal court passed on gilded carriages with fine horses, and he declared that only the finest of tea grew in this soil and little makes it out of China.  My little books on teas, the proper sort, I have kept in a bookcase here, but perhaps one or two shall go with me to bring the mystique of my ancestors of England and the Isles back to Ohio, for under my skin which will blush with fire, the legend of the face which can hide no shock, just like the voice that trembles unless I prepare to keep Essential Tremor in check, but this face gives me away, and the maternal line of English mothers settled in on me, not the olive Indian of some of the boys, so yes; the tea shall go.

My boxes are so filled and so heavy with thought that they can hardly be carried, and you do not want to open them on your own, for there is something mystical within them, and I cannot be certain that another can handle it, because I make it!  No one knows all of the secrets of what goes in, for I do not even pack them all myself, and maybe you do not know that of life, that even after the tape and the addresses are on, weighty things narrow and slide within the stash of boxes to be mailed, for it refuses to be left behind.  It is the transfiguration that happened over the time you have been away, and the creep in, seep in, like a downpour of rain, but only the weight gives it away that something was picked that you do not always want to bring along, for a year in a life is a very long time when we are forced to think about the years which sail by, sail on, and take you to the place where you are looking back upon yourself and the packing, and wondering why it was important to make it all right, each little box, stuffed with what you could not leave behind is rather much the same from place to place.

 These years, I do not know when I shall return here, for it becomes harder every year, for we get back to the other place, and things have changed there as well.  I can now make trips to Tennessee and not grieve so hard that Mama and Daddy are interred on the hill in Walnut Grove, but I like to take rocks and sea shells, little things that will last from my garden to them, so that will be the box of sacred things.  Stones and shells are sacred you ask?  All should know that one carries the sound of the sea, and the other has made a journey from the center of the earth, and you ask me if they are sacred?  All that will remain, and all that passes by, and all that we have loved has some nature of the sacred, and only we can dis-spell the nature of that being something good, something very good. 

The good heart can turn the stone in to gold, and it can give the shell back to the sea, for our nature has the power to be glorious.  We are visitors in this realm, just for this moment; moments we will rarely count except when our expectations are high or they are broken, but we are so temporal, and yet we have the power of choosing wonderful.

We can be shallow and resist the poetry of miracles, and we can call the pipers to play the music for our dance where we crush feet, crush the sign which read, “Goal,” and we can take away dreams which are precious unto those who carried us up to the ladder, up near the white tents, and we may choose to crush them like an army for the climb is steep and the travelers are weary, stomp the boxes and break the line of love with which they began.  It is a choice, and those who mock the choice at midnight when the deepest sleep summons us to answer in our dreams and before the dawn are apt to miss, “The Emperor’s Tea,” “The treasures in the boxes,” but most of all, “The power of the rock and the stone.”  

I must go now, for, “The Emperor,” is passing by fat, filled, bathed and clothed in all of his finest gifts, so I must pack the box of charms, and make him welcome,  and perhaps he will leave the fabric for fine tents which I may sew for all who have gone before to rest in the warm and glorious sun of another time and another place.

Barbara Everett Heintz,  Author of, “Pinkhoneysuckle,” Amazon and Kindle Ready — Create Space, With awards in San Francisco, as well as a First in Hollywood, California Book Festivals 2012

I am tragically imperfect, for I know of myself that I cannot. “Walk on Water,” change the world to a peaceful kingdom, and I cannot end the sorrows for the lost.  I will never paint like Michael Angelo, and first graders can draw stick figures better than me.  I have probably spent more time with psychiatrist than the number of years you have lived, fodor I could not prevent horrible things happening to me nor within my family.  I was fully unequipped to enter an adult world at 17, but I had no choice.  I graduated college with only a 3.45 so I did not get full honors or come in first in my class.

I love sweets, and I eat them knowing that they will shorten my life, and I can say that it is good for grandchildren to have a lot of me to hug, but I know better.  I saw Oral Roberts when I was a little girl, and I laid my hands on my own head, and I tried to believe that if I was good enough, and never did anything wrong, then I could heal my brother who was born with facial deformities, and most 4 year olds have more social skills than James, but I layed my hands on him too, for I thought that I might have the power of Oral Roberts, and that I could make James in to a new creation.  I mourn his death, and he has not died yet, for he had the worst abuse a child could ever live through.

I want all wars to end, and I keep thinking that if I could sit all leaders of all nations down and just talk, that I could show them that war has been a reality since recorded time, but the time for it to do good is now over, and I want to stop these kids from coming home with PTSD which I have suffered from almost my first memory.  I am an egotist, for I feel that people could learn from my book which I wrote that America uses its people but in a more subtle way.  I have zero control over the fact that money, oil, the untouchable out of site rich own all of us in one way or the other, and I have not been able to convince billionaires that they are sinning against the world even if God was not a reality.  No person or persons should be billionaires, for people should be better than to accumulate that kind of wealth when there is famine and illness anywhere.

I cannot clothe but a few of the naked, and I can no longer see a world where scripture is taken in any serious manner, and I find myself doubting God, and I have to remember the times when I was rescued by some powerful goodness that was more than happenstance.  I refuse to denounce God, and in not being able to determine that he is not, then I must believe in scripture, and I certainly have a whole list of sins on my plate.  I would like to preach sometimes, but it is what I believe, and I do not know the right words to help everyone be just a little better.

I fear never knowing fame, even though I have been told a million times that I am a gifted author.  I confess that I long for my book to become known, for a part of me wants those who made my people of southern Appalachia out to be the country’s trash to have to eat their words and to choke on them.

This is my first confession in some time, so I hope a Priest reads it and grants me absolution, and some of you think confession is wrong, for you say you do not need a Priest to forgive you.  They do not forgive you; Rather, if they are good priests they will help you to know how much you need to pray, and they will ask you to sin no more, and you tell them, usually, I will not, “In The Name Of The Father And The Son, And The Holy Spirit.”  They cost a lot less than psychiatrist; Infact it is a freebie if you need confession, plus they are sworn to secrecy, a bond they have with the Church and with God which cannot be broken.  Absolving you of your sins is a way of saying to get your butt out there, and pray to God, and as far as Priest go; they are sinners too, and they get the picture.

I have worked harder on getting my book out than I have at making food or anything for my family, so I am selfish, and I am not expecting any of you to get up and cheer that I have opted to spend my last years putting books together when everyone and their dog is publishing a book these days.  Some are really rather good, like mine, but it is hard to find people who even care about anything of American History, and I absolve you from having to care too much about me or what I think.  I want you to choose my book from the other million.

I have too many sins to list, but if any of you want to hash out some of yours; Go for it, but you know where to go to get them off your chest, Protestant, Catholic, Muslim or Jew; Get down on your knees and pray, and if you are a non believer, then you should at least read Ms. Manners so that you will not be a total arrogant pig who states that we believers are a bunch of nuts – For we all have days of doubt and pain, but we do not need your arrogance added to all of it, for if you are wrong, then there is the distinct possibility that you may be sent back as a dung beetle.  I repent; Amen

Barbara Everett Heintz, Author of, “Pinkhoneysuckle,” on Amazon, Kindle, Create Space, and a Xanga Blogger 

This evening I got a request from an interpreter from The Republic of China who has kindly asked for my book, and China, to my knowledge is unable to order from our Amazon Books, and believe me, I notice when someone has read enough to describe my book as a, “Masterpiece,” for they have gone to the reviews.  I have been told by Xangans that Xanga is a terrible place from which to market  books, but that  being said — Last week was the first week which I remember when I had ove 1000 visitors from my site, so I would like for South America, and most of Europe to know that they may order my book, “Pinkhoneysuckle,” by Barbara Everett Heintz through your Amazon, Kindle, and Create Space.  Now, Japan is added, and your footprints have meant much to me as they have streamed in to my blog, because I wrote the book on my blog site.  There may be a few eastern European areas that may have a harder time seeking to purchase my book, and I have seen cities in Poland, Slovenia, Thialand, and so many others reaching out to my writings, and I wish to help those who truly want my book to be reachable to those who have the ability to have the benefit of an interpretor, especially to be able to purchase a book that tells about the USA as you will never see it advertised and rarely on the news open up to you through the aegis of Amazon.

I apologize to those who come to my web blog often to have to hear the, “Pinkhoneysuckle,” explanation again, so I  have done much blogging lately, and I think there is something for most people.  I have added a Photo Album, for the pictures take you to times and places in my life and of my families.  My mother’s younger picture shows so clearly the outline of the little baby which she is carrying, my sister, and it shows the men in the best they had at the time.  My father appears as worn as the mule which he is endeavoring to put away, and you could look at these and not even know especially that you are not in some place withing another country.

Just let me thank the hundreds of people who stopped by.  I do encourage you to come back from England, France, Germany, Japan, and other countries who can reach Amazon and to put, “Pinkhoneysuckle,” in your reading cue.  Though ill health kept me from achieving a formal launch of this book, at the end of March, I will do so with WVXU in Cincinnati, and I thank the talented, Lee Hay, for bringing me on for this happy occasion at the end of March, as soon as I can make it back to Cincinnati with some strength after blood clots formed in my lungs twice while in California.

“Pinkhoneysuckle,” takes you to southern Appalachia which is known as The Buckle Of America’s Bible Belt, but this book is one woman’s life as she and her family deal with The removal of Appalachian people from their Southern Farm by America’s choice of sending cotton production to other areas of the world, like India.  Strong backs of mountain men and women would hit Rust Belt cities to take the hardest jobs, for they needed a paycheck to feed families who came with them or who stayed home.  Our Daddy lift us as did most in our area, and we would grieve his coming and going for 6 years.  Where he worked closed after those six years, and he wanted to try again to farm, but we would find ourselves with nothing when the next winter came along, for our mother had only her children to help, and we did work so hard, but that year, Mom was losing all good sense, and she had canned mainly stapeles of sauerkraut, pickles, and tomatoes.  What little Dad had put back had to go on the farm mortgage, or we would have been homeless, but worse — We would have lost our mother and father in their violent acts.  Children and women were the targets for angry men, and my already beated down mother would always just keep pressing harder and harder, and we would all weep as the hitting, and worse, the gun threats began.

We were among thousands who stayed lost for more years, too late to give us any sense of ever being children.  We were slaves in white face, and only Dr. Martin Luther King was good enough to want us marching with the black poor, but I was the one who broke away, studied about our lives and realized that we belonged in the poor people Marches.  This book is careful with history, careful to tell my truth, for the fury of some of my family who did not want to be a part of the story has been hard to bear.  I made certain the story was the period that covered my life, and it brings to the world what happened to all the little towns which people walk down in to from the world’s longest dedicated walking trail, “The Appalachian Trail.”  We never even knew it was basically in our back yard, and here it was founded by The Great John Muir, the same John Muir who backed making the John Muir trail which goes all the way from Marin County to Sierra peaks, but no one would take us to, “The Appalachian Trail?”

Pinkhoneysuckle holds two book awards from the summer of 2012 — Honorable Mention in San Francisco, A number one in my division where it is mixed genre weaving history, family, and my story, all which I say could be thousands of women and children from my error of birth — mid-century on in to my adult hood.  It is seen as a book which would be easily adaptable to other media, and I am working toward a movie, for this is southern farmer’s, “Grapes of Wrath,” only John Steinbeck was touched by the Oklahomans, but we were kept in our place, and that is the darned truth of it.

The coming of age story adds some romance, and as horrible as things were;  You will find that you laugh almost as much as you cry. I greatly invite all friends of the world to go to the Amazon site, and see the places where you can purchase it through Amazon. Kindle and Create Sjpace are all Amazon as well, and Amazon is now making movies with several in the wings, but I need those of you who come to my site to also go to Amazon, and help them to understand that, “Pinkhoneuysuckle,” is able to attract 1000 footprints.  Please make your footprints count, and know that you are how and why I would ever get selected, for only you can demand more product, and I believe that when you get caught up in the book, then reading is what you will want to do.  I beg when you come to my website that, if you like the blogs which I write, then I have carved a place for you in my heart to receive, “Pinkhoneysuckle,” and I hope to meet you all over this country this summer.

Please help me show why all Rust Belt cities have Appalachian poor and hot spots to this day from Cincinnati to Chicago, and I would beg your kindness to purchase or rent, “Pinkhoneysuckle,” for I am endeavoring to show that the old friends and the loved ones who farmed with us and whose children like I are left without the independence we need to share with future generations, for we lost our crafts and self sufficient ways, and what was everyday to us is now marketed as, “Craft.”

Please citizens of the world give my story a chance, and I will never forget that all of you came to help.

Blessings Across The Globe, And I know that you want to learn about the hidden America which I wrote about and of which I am — Just one.

Barbara Everett Heintz, Author of “Pinkhoneysuckle,” the book and Pinkhoneysuckle, the Xanga blog.

You may send me messages if you have questions about this book.

Many Thanks, Barbara Everett Heintz

I am aware that all police persons are not golden boys and girls.  One night after working at Hospice for a double shift on a New Years Eve, I was driving home on a dark and icy night, and I realized my vision was impaired, and you may not get this, but I was so exhausted, I did not get that it was a policeman following me, and instead of driving slowly on to the next lighted and public place, I stopped for his flashing light, and I had never been pulled over by a policeman before — Never!  In Ohio, we are supposed to be able to pull in to a public place if we feel our safety may be in jeoporady, but the good nurse obeys law enforcement.

I asked him when he got to the car what on earth had I done, for I was tired and extra cautious, and then he, a young and pompous little jerk, without one polite word asked me why I was driving with a brake light out, to which I vowed and meant that I had no idea one of my brake lights was out, and promised that I would have my husband take care of it when I got home, about fifteen more minutes through neighborhood streets.  He, before I knew what was happening, reached his arm in my car unable to avoid touching my chest — shall I say, and he turned on my warning signal and told me to drive the rest of the way home like that, and by then I was afraid of him.  It was before two of my sons had graduated from law school, and I knew that if you piss off one police person, then you are apt to get stopped by his buddies, especially in a small neighborhood force like the one he was out of.

Do not get me wrong, for most of the people are putting their lives on the line day in and day out, and most are well intentioned.  Your best police are not apt to be doing traffic on a residential street with a few businesses and hastleing nurses at 3AM.  He needed to be reigned in, but I mean that I feared future nights.  He said he had followed me for a half mile, and, “Why did I not stop,” and I always tell the  truth, that I thought someone was tail gating me, and the lights were blinding me, and that is how it is on icy cold and misty nights in Ohio, but Mr. Big Man, had I had a camera phone could have gotten himself filmed for battery.  He could have told me to turn my emergency light on.

In the San Francisco Bay area recently, we are noticing more and more of these police chase events where a perpetrator is being pulled over, and the next thing they know, a police chase ensues, bullets wind up flying in both directions, and it actually places the lives of other citizens in danger.  Today there was a 23 police car chase of one criminal, and he was killed, and certainly — He started the chase, but these are beginning to happen far too often out here, and all I can picture are Roy Rogers and Dale Evans chasing the bad guys, guns flashing, and they either wipe out a crew of cow thieving, town harassing good for nothing whippersnappers who aren’t worth a cold grave. 

I am not kidding that within the past two weeks there have been about three car chases, and one or two people killed in the process, so I am wondering how these people who are on the run do not deserve a day in court.  I am the first to say that, by all means, police must be able to use deadly force, though I wish that were not the case, but if citizens are going to be blasting with assault weapons, then police persons must have a fighting  chance.  We had two officers in Santa Cruz killed by a man with a history of violence, but in listening to the list, this guy was mentally ill, and we have succeeded in closing our mental hospitals, so instead we have gravely mentally ill people killing police who have come to their door, for they are trying to be humane.  I am convinced that your average murderer is not an upstanding citizen just driven to bad acts, and usually you are going to learn from the neighbors that the whole darned community knew to be afraid of them; Thus I, personally, fall on the side of non violence, but we cannot count on the sanity of all individuals.

Does that mean that the Scot Pedersen’s of the world should be let go as psychopaths, and the answer is easy, “Not on your life,” for their ability to murder is validated by them as the justification that they are above all societal norms, so keep them locked away forever,  No one recognizes a psychopath, and it may seem that I have a fixation on these people, and to a degree — I do, for what happens when it can be determined by brain scan that a person has such tendency.  The day is coming when that is going to be possible, and I do not doubt that common gene patterns will be found to run through these clever, brilliant, bright, and attractive people who turn in to murderers, so those police persons in Santa Cruz died at the hands of someone who, in all probability had fallen through the cracks, so I feel mercy toward police officers, and I shadow all of those who endeavor to protect us with prayers of well being.

What is with the car chases though, for it would seem more applicable to get the helicopters in the air, and to keep that car in sight;  But it just appears to me that even our justice system is adding to the violence.  The danger of car chases must have more caution and more limits, for police person’s are getting shot, the people who are on the run are winding up dead, and it spreads fear in the hearts of many of us who have experienced an aggressive act by a police force.  No, murderers should not get away, but even the crazy Manifesto writing cops gone rogue did not need to be burned at the stake, and we will always hear those tender screams, even after he had most probably shot himself, “Burn the fucking place down.”  That seems to have begun what has been a serious two weeks of violence out here, the law enforcement policeman who was out to get even.  A wise person well versed in psychology though shed light on that case by saying that when people come to the point of writing Manifestos, nothing is going to end well.  He was a lunatic cop killer, and he was trapped, but are we so uncivil that we cannot give the relatives a body to bury and to grieve over.

We fear when our militia seems to be handing out death sentences, and if one has ever been made to fear a police person, then I can understand the need to run, though I know these are not choir boys and nurses getting shot.  I would just like to hear that wild west chases which end with dead offendors adds to a younger person’s doubts that their best interest is served if they ask for help from law enforcement.  I want to keep advocating that the count of dead due to criminal activity as well as the number of persons who die each week in America should be counted and published every week taking in to account 50 states, and let us get a larger picture of how violent we have become, for the little children growing up today will hear, and they will see, and violence can become what seems the only answer for them, so when can we hear it?  It would be easy to compile weekly reports of how many people die in America from all forms of killing, sanctioned or otherwise.  CNN, will you lead, or will Fox?  But who will tell the truth, the weekly toll of killing in America.

God help us, and, “Happy Trails,” But make certain you do not stop in a dark place.  I was terrified, and recall it like yesterday over twelve years later.

Barbara Everett Heintz, Author of “Pinkhoneysuckle,” Story of Mid-Century Diaspora of Appalachian Families With Extremely Important Story of Children and Women Left To Carry On — A Hidden American Tradgedy

I do not believe that I have ever written a weblog which has had immediate and world wide visitors so rapidly as the article which I wrote about America’s Senior Citizens and the pathetic job market for them.  I need terribly to edit the entire article, but I did write it with my heart in my hand, for I have seen a 75  year old start to clean motel rooms to try to take care of her children and grandchildren.  A very bright man back East who I met through Xanga has had horrible experiences going from place to place job seeking, and when the jobs were filled, a younger and less qualified person would be chosen over a man 50 to 60.  A brother who was a fine machinist worked at Walmart to make ends meet until his retirement money met what was a reasonably good standard of life when his wife decided to take a boyfriend after 40 years of marriage, and he was being nice — giving her his house which he shared with her, not realizing that she would marry within a few weeks after the divorce was finalized.  Otherwise he was in a fifty/fifty state, and that is more and more becoming the standard of divorce in the United States.

A recent movie about seniors who immigrated to India may have predicted a trend before its time — Title not specifically remembered, but; Who could forget the place, “The Marigold Hotel,” for those would hold great potentials for elder Americans.  The problem would be unscrupulous individuals taking dollars and providing no service, and it is a great problem for America that our systems cannot tolerate the flora and fauna, the bacteria, and the viruses found in other locals such as India.

With no disrespect, let us used India for example, for you can have trained doctors from our best schools, Harvard, Yale, and Stanford, for instance, but if you do not have a staff who is meticulously clean, using standard hand washing techniques, and the American training where care settings know individual Universal precautions such as handwashing before you touch anyone, then care settings cannot work.  We are an overly antibiotic use country, so Americans can become deathly ill from any lack of general precautions, and if such care facilities could operate it third world countries — It could be a win win situation.  Medical equipment has to be thrown away which is personal to the patient from any kind of tubing, masks, syringes, and if a cities water supply is dangerous for drinking to its own population, then it is a certainty that it is probably not a good idea to be using it even for bathing.

Yes, we Americans are hung up on the clean thing, the deodorant, no bugs, or varmits running around.  Vermin is not acceptable, nor is the use of cancer causing poisons to kill such things.  I looked at that movie, and I thanked God that I would never have to make so a choice with several children and a planned future, but thousands and thousands of Americans would welcome such an opportunity under the right situation.  The finest diagnostic equipment in the world which is affordable in some third world hospitals is useless if a person with unclean hands comes in and starts and IV, and — Again, this happened to a friend traveling in a third world nation, and the next morning the red streaks of severe infection were running up his arm, so now not only did he have atrial fibrilation; he also had a nosocomal infection that was even more dangerous at that point that the A-fib which was becoming controlled.

If I could send a message to third world countries, then Americans first, fear crime.  After crime would become the fear of becoming ill, so instead of adopting the ways of our West which is so offensive, the eforts to accumulate wealth, then I would hope that third world countries would show that they are taking care of women and children.  Dumping poisons and trash in to rivers and streams and misusing water, the source of life is going to keep nations third world; so perhaps we should be spreading with hope the news that nations may thrive far better by adapting serious world clean up issues, and that means to not just physically clean dirt and trash as well as polution from cities and water ways; It means to show that you can care and clean up your own back log of the poor –  And that begins with one building, getting the population interested , and one by one, by one, the word and pride begins to spread.

Why are Americans so hung up on the problems with dirt, garbage, and the washing of their bodies and clothes?  For us, horrible smells add up to horribly dangerous areas for people to travel.  It takes great leaders, and I know there are great leaders all over the world who can help their people to understand change, the sharing of dollars, and of personal goods begins with the great leaders who note that something as simple as teaching their nation how to control vermin, how to cleanse bodies and clothing, and how to rehab their decaying buildings, but above all to clean up waste, sewage disposal, and the bodies of water which are the staff of all life will help to stamp out elder American’s fears of foreign neighbors.

Great and reasonable leaders are aware that soap, water, clean air, and helping citizens to understand that the discipline of the use of antibacterial products will not only benefit their people for whom they are the torch bearers, but it begins to open more doors for equality of  how and where money may be more widely distributed just by the use of basic inexpensive materials like soap and water.  Yes, I see it as a perfectly logical advent for elder persons with little family to be able to see options around the world, and care begins at the most basic of human needs.  Hear me please, Great Leaders,  and may we see ourself as one earth, the dreamed of global community of mankind.

I beg this of the nations of the world, for your children have great value as citizens in a universe where overall birth rates keep falling in developed nations.  I plant this seed in my heart, and I beg that it will flower across the globe.

Blessings to those who see God work through all nations, to feed the children, to open gates to all nations, and to begin the cleansing of our 3rd world brothers and sisters.  What good have our wars done?  Our first war must be to end poverty at the level where children and women are made slaves, for some few of us as Americans knew similar poverty, but our pride was to make clean the worst that we had.

Blessings, Barbara Everett Heintz, Author of, “Pinkhoneysuckle,” on Amazon, Kindle, and Create Space — A story of America where farmers lived subsistence lives, but even had these lives taken in mid century.  Come to our hidden towns along The Appalachian Trail.  I invite you to read my book, for I believe it helps to know there has been greed in America well in to the 20th century; And our war on drugs has been fruitless compared to the dollars wasted on law enforcement instead of following the example of Denmark where addicts may contribute as workers on methadone programs.

confess that I am among the lucky in more ways than I can count, even as my head aches tonight from the brilliant spring and pollens which fill the San Francisco air, and  at the end of March, I will return to  Ohio where we took a place in a condo building which is older, has highway robbery condo fees because of its age, but our place was owned by a company that kept it so very well, and most people moving in seem to be really going for the low price of larger condos in older buildings and fixing them up to please themselves rather than taking on the double cost of other places with less of a river view.

Am I rich?  We live within our means, but I come from a generation who firmly believed that jewels were a waste of a good dollar, and we are very adept at shopping for most things.  Having given our children most valuable furniture as we sized down or  sending it to an auction; I do believe a robber would be most disappointed, for we even use cell phones that the thugs would be ashamed of carrying out on the street, and as far as a bunch of techy things; since sending attachments is a trial for us, we are better served by the use of our older sound systems which play the music from our lives, and if a criminal had their heard set on CDs which are operatic, high chorale, or the glorious old hymns sung by a choir at Oxford or Cambridge; then danged; you crooks should come to our place.  My husband uses three different remotes as well as the tevlevision, and it is just gauling to me, so for his birthday, then he is getting a universal remote, for I am tired of looking for the blessed things, and madder than hell when he does not swithch back to the TV settings, for I have to go back to the  cable box, use three damned remotes, and somehow, I am able finally to get the news on if he has gone to his men’s club.

We do not keep a lot of money at home, and if you wanted to raid our savings for old age; then you would have to go see our lawyer in Cincinnati to see which account could be tapped in to now, for my husband is a saver to the point that everything is so locked up that we usually have to call the lawyer and the old broker friend if we want to make a real purchase, so all of you thieves out there can really find places where robbing would be a much greater comfort than coming to our place — Then we are gated, have full house alarms, a tenant, vicious dogs up the hill from us which start howling if you look as if you do not belong at the places around here, so this is just not your ideal place to rob.  I would highly recommend that your needs would be better met by going where you might find something worth selling fast, or just forget your life of crime; Go forth and sin no more.

I have heard that pennitenturaries are not very sexy places, and what a waste of life to be behind bars!  I know that as I am compeled to write this that robbers are not apt to be blog sharing folks; so all of this falls on deaf ears, for a criminal is rarely a person who has totally rational motives.  We are supposed to pray for those who are incarcerated, and for minor crimes, then when they are released — Just had to snatch those slim jims and breath mints from a convenience store and got caught with a loaded weapon on the front seat — for instance.  Had this always been an upstanding citizen prior to the arrest, then it would be helpful if more people would have the heart to hire criminals.

The aging population in this country is running in to serious money problems, for either unforseen changes in a work location — A relationship which did not work out, and those pesky kids really do want Mom and Dad’s help when it comes to housing, and the period just after high school when many decide that college is what they have lived to approach.  Life without reporting to parents, coed dorms, and keg parties for four years, and you can put up signs which cue your room mate in to the fact that a special visitor is on board, so go eat a cold pizza left outside of room 13 F, the room where there is always something going on besides dull old preparation for quiz or exams on the next day.  Yes older people feel they owe so much to their children, though the most I ever asked my parents for was forty dollars, and I cried when I had to ask them for that.  Mama was so excited that she was making minimum wage by that time, the $2.25 per hour, and Dad got more than that, but I was ashamed that I asked them for one dime.

Aging people in their early to mid sixties who find themselves unemployed when they really need money coming in go from interview to interview when the pressure is on for income from their family, and  plans they made to retire have not worked, but this is among the groups that are not treasured for past accomplishments, and what I am seeing and hearing from old friends going back in the work force is that it is pure discrimination when it comes between them and the younger person, then there is absolutely no incentive to hire the elder person even if they were the best at what they  did, from banking to hospital administration, to heading a janitorial crew;  They are apt to get the thanks — But no thanks.  About the best a senior citizen can hope for is a minimum wage job in some store selling, for they are jobs the younger people get out of as soon as humanly possible.  Elder folks can find jobs folding clothes in department stores, or the person skilled with the used of tools fits weel in hardware facilities like Lowes.  With a college education, they are apt to be passed over from cleaning services, for the personnel realize that a Grandmother/Grandfather/Parent is apt to have health problems, but it is the social issue also.  Who wants to have to work with someone college educated 30 to 40 years ago, for everyone knows that it is not someone cool, and they are apt to be superior in though to the other employees, and no one wants anyone that might share they have had a life, been educated, and never expected that returning to the work force would be like pulling hen’s teeth.

These are remarks I have heard made about foks in the very age range which I am now; Again, “Thank you God,” for being careful, unless I live to be 120 or my husband longer than that, then we can make it on what we have, and my body has endeavored really hard to wipe me out on more than one occasion.  Now that we know the root problem though, I might get a lot of extra years tacked on, and my husband must have had a cardiac surgeon in 1994 with golden hands, for his cardiac grafts have given him such little problems; so we are not checking out.  But I have heard younger professional people calling our baby boom generation — “Old and smelly,” “Ugly,”  “Ridiculous to think they have sex partners, making gagging sounds while explaining such,” and among my favorites is that, “Older people already had their chance!”  I could make the list longer, but I would assess that you are getting the very ugly picture that older Americans are facing heavy discrimination in the work force.  So the question arises; “What can be done about all of this?”

Bwho qualify for no disability.  I would talk with everyone that I knew about their work place and how many people on the work force are over 60 years of age.  I would take a meanial job in the interim — whatever I could get, for the worst thing is to do nothing or to worry yourself to death.  But it is time that age discrimination is brought out and in to the open, and ladies and gentlemen; The activist who brought great changes in laws which affected voting rights for people of color in 1965 are now the older people who need the confidence and the support of each other to begin addressing age discrimination as the demon which it surely is.  I am hearing of more and more cases where this is a pertinent issue, and for many it is not a matter of wanting the lap of luxury;  It is that our generation, for the most part, was brought up to believe that honest and hard work was what had built this country, and once the marching shoes came off, then this same age group hit the work force, but many are solidly cut out, because technology and computer skills are like learning a brand new language

But who will begin the conversation?  It takes some heart for older lawyers to come down from high places to look at so many people who are victims of the challenge to make more money, and no we plans; “When I am older, I want young people to remark that I stink, that I have had my turn, and I thought the money was going to last longer.”  People do not see late years of marriage falling apart, nor can they be lucky enough to predict that health care — Or lack of it now, is so expensive that Social Security which they paid in to does not come close to meeting the needs of a family where ill health pops up and starts eating  away at the next egg which they had built for their family.  Who would guess their husband or wife was in a battle with cancer, and out of pocket care was the only way their type of cancer could be dealt with at an institution not part of the network.  Marriages are ever fragile, and with longevity many married couples are finding themselves at a crossroads after 30 or 40 years of marriage, and the young can say something about old geizers not deserving to work out problems with each other, but when children have left home, you’ve both worked for years to see the kids had the best, but along the way what did not get nourished was the marriage — And yes, we old geizers really enjoy companionship, and we are not among them, but it is a horrible thing for people to wake up and to know they are living with a stranger, because the children were the bond, and you talked about work, but strangers are not always able to mend lost years, and some are so desperate that leaving the marriage seems to be the only soloution.

We can all look at it and think; “Well, all you are looking at is a death bed, so why ever would you leave a marriage at that age,” for younger folks are going to be together for ever and ever!”  It may not be practical, but we are somehow guaranteed that all of us irregardless of age are entitled to, “The pursuit of happiness,” so if you did not get that out of the forefather’s plan, then you need to hit the history books once more.  Our Pledge of Allegance to this nation is rather outspoken regarding such a liberty, and I am not encouraging anyone to get out of a marriage, for it is a sacred bond isn’t it? Tell that to the young adults who divorce within the first five years, look at that statistic, and kiss where the sun does not shine if you believe elder people are not entitled to happiness or the pursuit of such as well spelled out by the founding fathers;  Then, you are either plain stupid, or had plugs in your ears when The Pledge of Allegance was learned in your schools.  Part of citizenship for non nationals includes learning our most basic of rights, and those who are born here have been miserably failed by any school system which does not teach basic Civics.

I hurt for these troubled older people, and I lay my heart out to anyone who is in such a predicament.  I do feel that people make snap wrong decisions which they will regret later when they are troubled.  Depression is a growing problem of mature citizens, and many fall in to social isolation, and some even end their lives feeling that when or if they have no control over their lives, then it is a way out, and it is “Youth Worship,” which is the level of advertising, sales ptches, and does anyone think it is an accident that evening news features adds for hemmerhoids and Depends which is actually insulting to aging individuals.  Yes these things may be part of where our lives are headed,  but we purchase a whole lot of things which have nothing to do with gas, bloating, bowel, urione, and other private functions.  Would it not be advisable to advertise, for instance, if we who are growing older are the evening news watchers to share the adverising of food, vitamins and minerals, beautiful women who are older with fresh washed faces enjoying the afternoon with friends in a garden.  FGS, At least give us a shot a miracle grow, and as people gloat over the skin on my face, I can tell you that I was and still am a Noxema girl with a little Estee Lauder come the night, but there are people 35  who have worse skin than me.  Just give us a break; will you not dear worshippers of the youth culture.  We have not signed on to check out of here yet.

I have few credentials to give employment advice, for it is not part of my education.  I do have a lot of education, but what I tell unemployed seniors is what I have written.  Do not stay unemployed even if you have to suck in all of your pride.  You owe not one child a free ride for college, for most students with whom I went to school who were the party crowd took their education the least seriously, while those who worked seemed to put their hearts in to it.  It means more when you are helping parents pay the tab.  I also ask people to list all which they have done and like to do and to see if there is a way of making a living as a creative self employed person.  What do you do well which only you can provide that is legal and which can bring in needed income.  This is an area where many folks just do not think to go — Their passion, the gifts which they have learned, then see in your community if you can become a paid tutor, and get some help setting up a small business.  One of my sisters is gifted in taking care of elder persons — the genuinely elder people who have infirmities, and her work is providing them with the service she learned through taking care of her husband as he was dying from Huntington’s Disease, helping Tennessee actually get a program in order which should be a model for the nation for mentally impaired citizens for whom living alone is impossible, and the program is, “Tennessee Cares,” but she does this work out of love, and the fact it has provided her with income is her eternal gift.  She could easily become an advisor to many familes with disabilities, but she has all the work she can do now with a beloved friend who knows her situation and whose family is 3000 miles away, so she does make some income in this situation, for the friend is coherent, and knows she is the lifeline.

Dear ones who are without work, and you yourself feel fully unable to work, then seek help from whatever community social services are available.  You are special, and if one looks around, there are lines of care in this country — Not enough for the aged, the infirmed, and the oldest citizens, but learn all that is available to you, for those of us who can;  We are quiet givers, and we support with the few dollars we can.  It is time that the Billionaire networks takes a look at the poverty among the elderly of America and be hand led to situations such as one aunt whom I bless has taken on tow little girls a drug addicted grandaughter brought in to the family.  The same girl had four other children;  So these are great societal misortunes, and other problems within the family structure makes one fear to get involved.  Angels have come in to the lives of two of the oldest of the six children, and their Great Grandmother, until now, was most of the care they had ever known.

Know your angels, for there are people who want to help, but they do not realize the extent of problems.  We are all capable of losing all that we have in a moment, and for the younger people; I can promise you that Mark Twain’s comment that the two things which certain are, “Death and Taxes,” will greet you in your life, and in your years; sometimes you long for time to move on, and the misfortune is that longing, for after middle age life is so filled from year to year with all that you need to do vs. all that you ought to do, and you too will be in the exact place many of the elderly are right now.

I set a goal to do a couple of articles about the subject of aging individuals, and I feel as if I have placed my heart in what I have written.  I am well aware that there will be few readers, that younger people cannot relate to the situation, for it is the way of youth to guard your fear of becoming old, so you isolate yourself from people as young as 50 who feel every emotion which you do and have from the time you hit late puberty or finished high school.  I live wanting to impact lives for the better, even my own and my family’s, but I need to raise the issue for one more time; “We need to be walking and talking about the aging of America,” for it is here.  We face challenges which are larger than some can bear, but we began our adult lives seeking change and with the hope of civil rights.  May as much passion be shown to the elderly for civil justice as has been shown for the GLBT communities, for we are a large body of people, and if we brought mercy to those who were me, the poorest, to people of color, and The Supreme courts have addressed many diverse issues, so with passion;   “Who will stand up and be the torch bearers for older citizens in this country who need Jobs?

We need powerful people to step forward, and when you do, then we are going to march along right behind you for those of us whose burdens are not being taking seriously anywhere from the halls of Congress to the 60 year old pounding the pavement with swollen feat, for our bodies do age, but we still have skills, so for those who need it; Let the justice begin to flow like the waters over this land, and once more prove America actually does care about the civil rights of every citizen.

God Bless All Who Seek Employment

I Am Counting On A Ground Swell; I am, Barbara Everett Heintz, Author of, “Pinkhoneysuckle,” Amazon, Kindle, Create Space, and Winner of 2012 Book Festival Awards — HM in San Francisco, and 1st Place in Hollywood; A story of the uncivered Diaspora of The Southern Appalachians, One Woman’s Journey   

I  have worked enough computer hours to pretend that I have two full time jobs, for this is my trial and tribulation, the sad nature of a woman who, went around my sons and daughters who would finish nursing just in time to sit in front of the computer and to make idiots of their father and I as we marveled at accomplished technical skills.  When you have to ask five year olds to clue you in, then an awareness that the new world is at hand, that you are headed for aa technology crisis, somewhat like being the last mule on a share cropper’s farm when someone drives up with a tractor which could turn the earth despite bolders the size of  two ton elephants without the snout — One goes out to pasture, kisses the pens and pencils farewell — And if it is your luck to own the mule, then you can lie down and chew on straw or roll in the hay, metaphorically speaking, of course.

I endeavored, and I accomplished placing the pictures, many of which are in my book, “Pinkhoneysucle, on my weblog pictures as well as the Xanga picture album, because I thought it might give more of a sense to readers of how the book with generations explained, for various roles in Appalachian life, Southern Bible Belt ideals, and show the progression of a woman’s life, for I took much of, “Pinkhoneysuckle,” from the deepest dark place where I had to go endeavoring to convince you that A Diaspora occured  in America in the mid century. Front line soldiers who made it back were caught up in it, as well as all poor farmers in their overalls had to head North, and no one has bothered to bring it to the attention of the American people, because if you think we are a bunch of, “White Trash,” then should you be bothered.  Pictures, I thought;  these folks need pictures to get the idea of where this story is going to lead them.  See the pictures, please, and I will someday let you guess how many hours it took me to get these in order.  I am sorry the quality is poor, but you know that thos pixels were not born back then in the 60s and 70s, and I saw Berkeley’s great big computer room, when a computer required a building, and those punnch card gals;  Where was their place in history.

Next up,  I purposefully deleted my template or let us call it, the header which embarrassed me to death, and with my,  “Computer’s for Dummies,” I endeavored piece by piece to replace that SOB, and I wound up on some craft book site signing in, flicker, other related companies, and I may have  accidentally bought a car trying to replace my header, and I wanted it to knock your socks off, but right now my blog is a headless horse, and it is apt to stay that way until I get back to my river town this summer and let my computer programmer do his magic — Swirling pinkhoneysuckles and swaying southern pines with the golden needles of past seasons carpeting the forest floor, three sisters gathering flowers by the armload to take to Mama;  I wanted that header really badly. but Microsoft crashed in our area, and in addition to that between joining art schools, craft pledges, and God knows what else; Now I have no template at all!

I have now come to late evening, and in the hallway, I saw a black spider climbing up the wall, so I think this is the sign which I needed that these books are useless, that whoever wrote them sucks, and when I get back to the hallway as perturbed as I am now, I am going to smack the sweet innards out of that spider, and realize that I may be a computer pathetic and hopeless case, but I can still whack the big guys!

I should list the good things my mother in law did for me, how you could wash dishes with that material which was used a lot in can can slips or to make the white neeting for church hats or Easter bonnets.  I know that little, if anything, ever gets discarded, which is among the reasons I go through my things almost every year and send everything to a store which somehow serves mentally disabled persons down in the Mission area.  I admired that she would spend hours with our children to make the perfect thank you cards for the aunts who would give them little presents of money on their birthdays, and that she was able to amuse herself never spending a dime on a new piece of clothing, except she must have had to make at least one order of underwear in those 35 or so years, but I would not swear to that.

Living in what was her house and is now ours sometimes makes my skin crawl, for I can see her, or I automatically do something just like her in the kitchen, but she and I were as different as if were a Queen of Hearts, and I had come out of the fields of China, a peasant, latched on to my husband’s leg one day and would not let him go. I would talk with her in the early mornings when I was nursing my babies, for she was always up between four and five, and the sound echoes in this house.  Were it empty, I think it might have less personality than a very large barn except or the view, for my pictures of a great remodel only came to pass in the kitchen which is as modern as most of years, but I did not have room for the pot filler feature, and a wine fridge was out, not such a deal in San Francisco, since there are very few ways of steaming head.

My readers may remember this story, that on my very first visit, she informed me that this family does not hug, and I should have heard the words as cautionary, but my husband and I were so young then, I had no problems getting hugs, for it was something I never turned down, and only after about two or three children were born would I realize that all hugs ended in passion, and even if I was not in the mood for passion and the feel of my body fully given, this was usually the response, so I went along for years where I never felt under hugged, quite the contrary,  I do admit that I could make things happen with as much lust as the Madam or a house dedicated to the satisfaction of men, and if you were a 70s woman, then you know that was during the time of all the expert books from anything you were afraid to ask, to refreshing one’s techniques with a chaper from The kama Sutra, “Fear of Flying,” and who could forget Marlon Brandon and, “Last Tango In Paris.”  It was more free out here for the homo sexual crowd,  but for straight people it was a time of Testosterone flowing from ceilings, because, for the first time, a woman could put her arms around her man, for we had written permission to drive them to depths of desire they did not even know they had.  I hear lesbians talking a lot about, “Girl Power,” and I want sometimes to say that I am convinced that new sexuality was at its peak with men and women sharing heightened sexual awareness together, for women learned how, and we were not afraid to take our beautiful men to the stars, and we wanted to get there with them.

We had rules — You will do nothing which hurts, and many of us found the greatest gift in sheere male superior sexual positions, for we are sort of built as such that fit is just right for reproduction — What we were born on this earth for in the first place, that we — the highest of the mammals, even us, we had a time and a season which went on somewhere around 28 years before women’s ovaries just were not going to put out those eggs any more, and most women are like cats in hear near periods of ovulation, for nature is saying, “Make us a baby,” and to say women are in peak child bearing years at age 27 may be text book, but you still are going to be contributing eggs for several more years after that, and I can say for certain a lot of women at 42 to 45, if careless or just baby hungry can wind up with little babies shrieking, “Milk Time,” enough to awaken the dead if they are not well protected from pregnancy.  We always like to have romantic evenings, and do we have phermones; We seem to, for our bodies perspire more, and genitalia naturally lubricates during child bearing years.  Surely you’ve noticed that lubricants get extra news time along with viagra on the evening news, for who watches the evening news.  We people who are older with time on our hands.  It is not geared to young people in heat, and that is for certain.

But my mother in law said, “We do not hug in this family,”  and as the days of great passion have come in to days that are hardly yours to know about, but people getting older still make love, but things become planned, and the script is written, the understanding, and if you do not know what the person likes by this time, then you are probably out of the relationship anyway; but the idea of, “Hugs,” would haunt me, for I did not know how tragically my husband would fall in to the pathetic affection category with age, and he is indeed, a really ackward hugger; One quick arms around me, a brief kiss if we have not seen each other for awhile,  And, you get the picture that my over bearing mother in law was absolutely right.

I have one male friend with whom we share lunch some times, and he is wonderfully taller than me, and has great arms.  He holds we closely, for I have known him for about 38 of my years, both of us in health care, and I find myself, not so much turning back in to the days of, “Last Tango,” but I just want him to hold me right there, so that I can hear his heart beat, and I can feel so very warm, but he is Methodist, and his Mama raised him to do the right thing, to let it go at that, but I can even remember other men who simply had this wonderful way of holding all of me in their arms, and you can believe it or not, but you could probably hand me an old coat of theirs, and I could pick who it belonged to, way back when, blindfolded.

So if you are young and in love, and note that most hugs are associated with sex, then meet their Mothers, find out about the loving ways of the family, and if your mother in law tells you; “We are not a hugging family,” ou need to then you need to decide then and there what you are willing to live with those other years of your life.  But you listen, and remember my story,  and unless you’re comfortable with zero romanticism after the season of youth have faded, then you just might want to file your nails, look up at the moon and stars which will still be the same ones shining down when health is failing, when aches just happen, and when you go to sleep – Yes think about it, and talk with your loved one about the cold family way and that is upsetting.  If he can hold you in his arms, and make you feel like you want to crawl in to his waiting arms forever, then you may have lucked out.

If he breezes over it, and does not want to embarrass Mom too much by holding you in his arms or holding your hands with people around, then you just might want to polish those nails and hit the road.  You cannot change the person, but you can make a more informed choice.  We had the babies, and we take care of each other in sickness or health, but I am missing out on another special part of growing older.  I also will see his mother comin g out of walls, mending in the kitchen, or bringing us in her parlor on auntie visit day, so I love with the warning, and I walked the path thus far, so I am not apt to start looking for anything else at this point, so I count the other gifts, marvel at the first blooms of springtime and remember the hours when we were both on fire.

Barbara Everett Heintz, “
“Pinkhoneysuckle.” Book on Amazon and Kindle — Pinkhoneysuckle, The Blog onXanga
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