The People News, a free newspaper serving Cleveland Tennessee (TN) and Bradley County Tennessee (Tn).





Of Bradley County Tn.


APRIL  2005

                            The People News, a free newspaper serving Cleveland and Bradley County Tn.

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REALM OF REALITY

A NOSTALGIC WAVE

by Toneeke Henderson

Welcome to another month in the new millennium. Wow can you believe we are now five years into the new era? It seems as though it was merely yesterday that the clocks had turned Father Time into a Grandpa.

Yes, time is flying by rather quickly. It seems like just yesterday that our kids were kids and yet now all grown up and were waiting in anticipation of the arrival of their own children. Now both of our newest grandchildren are here. Little  "Amarina Rose and Liam Wesley" have made their way into our huge world only to better it I am sure.

They both have characteristics of our children that we can visually see and I am sure that the other sets of Grandparents can say the same. Speaking of

Special Grandparents, I am sure a lot of you know who Mamaw & Papaw Crisp are. They seemingly have been Grandparents to children other then their own. That is a gift that only grandparents know how to give.

They have been bestowed the honorary position of great grandparents to our very own grandchildren. I am sure many benefit from their love. I want to take a moment to say "Thanks for sharing your hearts."

Those of you who can remember letter writing, I just want to make sure you are aware of the facts  that what goes around will surely return in another era.

Toneeke Henderson


I was looking at some of my vintage photographs and Post cards and letters written to loves across the world from WW  I and WW II. You can fall into each heart that dared to write its soul's breath upon their pages. Before post cards or the stamps that marked them, where even a penny love existed in notes of overwhelmed thoughts and commitments.

Reading these wonderful pages of nostalgic views of promises fulfilled and those that never came true, leave one's mind to linger in the midst of a moment that time preserved for the future to see. Oh yes, letter writing, what a wonderful gift it would be.

You see some people still write letters to others, people like me. Do you know how kewl it is to get a note from a friend or a relative who never seem to think they have much they want to say but wanted you to know they were thinking of you all the time anyway. I have a friend like that, her name is Kaye, she'll probably get crazy when I tell you her real name was Candy Kayne. I guess her parents knew what a treat she would be to her friends and wanted to ensure that giving quality by calling it in her name. 

This is where I remind the world of the letter writing, for what goes around simply returns one day. Just like the bell bottom pants and ruby red lipstick and grandma's old polyester blouses, hip hugger jeans, peace signs and a few other favorite things, like jelly beans.


A few years back in 1996 I opted to photograph the whitewater travels of a few rafts that went on the rivers tour. I enjoyed my job but I needed more to feed my brain. I was set up at a place called "Double Trouble." I had met a lot of people on the river and gotten to know of few of them well enough to spot them coming

down stream. (That helps so you can have the camera ready.) I even managed a picture of the guys practicing for the Olympics, to which I later photographed on site during the actual events.
I came home and wrote a story about it that day, the following is part of that story.

"I have watched kayakers and surfers alike and all I saw was kayakers and surfers, but today I stood on the river bank and noticed something I never had before. I saw a breed of people all of their own, they play, they paddle for hours as if to stitch a quilt among the river, leaving no rapid unchallenged. Like trying to ride a bicycle for the first time and not giving up till you succeed. Kayaker's have that determination, a self maintained energy that refuses to let them give up. With patience and fortitude they strive to surf the hole and master it and for those who can, the greatest triumph brings cheers from their river family and onlookers alike, victory until the next hole.

There is no pain from those who dwell upon the waters. One young man had chunked a place in his knee while bustling down the river and I gave him a paper towel to clean it off. There were so many kayakers  stopping that day to eat lunch, that I felt like an intruder, yet I was among a class of people who share the river with God himself.

I had the opportunity to meet one of the river's own, Grateful Ed they called him. He is a dedicated kayaker who studies the river from one side to the other. He holds a oneness that is a tribute to only a few who as brothers in the spirit of wilderness, can attribute great knowledge and sacrifice as they travel on the river of "Heavens Arm".

My spiritual self, now years later, revives the essence of the message of the river. Once again I stand on the banks of the river with the musical breeze passing through the trees as if it were windchimes delicately moving. The waters begin to flow in a steadiness unnoticed by most. The sun begins to crest, the sensation of dawn fills the sky ready to illuminate the vast space above me. Voices are heard as the river begins to speak of her venture for the day, louder and louder as the sun makes her appearance. Glimmers of Elani's sparkle as they dance to the music of the wind and sun as they sing together. Day has begun. With onlookers seemingly in amazement, the wild flowers as they yawn with outstretched petals, smiling as the butterflies make their busy flights to chatter among them. So much joy just to see life. The hawk fly's above on cache's of warm wind to surf their idle spot within the sky. The eyes that watch them from the forest, sit and ponder at the peaceful fortress they have around them. All taking only what they need from mother earth and leaving love behind to regenerate what has been taken. Slight words can be heard as the breeze carries wild bird tales amongst the swirling curves of the river.

There is a sense of oneness within the waters, touching the soul and filling it with peace and joy."

In short summary here lives the lives of all. We, like all things else, seem to recycle our lives. We live for our children, they become our lives and their children live on just like the river flowing strong. Keep in mind the peace your soul is born with, and remember to share. Wind blows the dust away, rain nourishes the foliage, the sun warms the earth and God touches our souls with a baby's birth.
.

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