I’m going to get right to it––the condition of the world, the condition of getting old, and the condition of the condition that no one wants to talk about has become more than we can bear.
Like being between lovers and without friends. Painful.
Some of us in this possibly God- blessed country would deny a few square millimeters to those who are trying to find freedom or even continue existing. No one wants to feel the razor cutting through the tissue of denial in thin sushi slices, making a mockery of being too careful.
Did you believe Pinky had been left behind, like forgotten laundry, washed but unfolded, tired, wrinkled and put away before his time? Didn’t I tell you that Pinky wasn’t done yet? He still has lots to say, so no sense burying him before his time, thinking his ashes won’t come back and burn your tongue. Like Moses, who picked up a lump of burning coal, put it in his mouth and lisped from then on, yet found the words to lead his people out of Egypt, Pinky will singe your innards if you think he is kaput.
The man can’t be trusted, God knows, not if you are trusting him to stay silent, because that is not going to happen. The man has seen the stone tablets and has a voice––a baritone vibration filled with a lifetime of hard earned, raked-over-the-coals lessons, often flying by the seat of despair, yet coming through the smoke like a surfer through the barrel, upright and breathing fire and spouting like Kilauea everything that needs to be said, showering kisses that love and kisses that heal on all who are lucky enough to come across his serpentine path.
The news of the day is already the news of yesterday because something is happening every minute and if you don’t want to get left behind, hang on the utterances from Pinky’s lips. You will hear some echoes of the past, some wisdom of the present and now and again a portent of what just might be around the next rainbow bend, full of all of the colors that give life it’s flavors of apple pie and ice cream, something that no matter how hard the forces trying to bend the tendencies of this public, there is no chance to remove the fundamental taste in the Declaration that there is room here for everyone regardless if you are chocolate, strawberry or Cherry Garcia. Bring on your best shot. Sure vanilla is OK too, but licorice, lemon sherbet, and cookies and cream are not to be shut out.
If you have flavor, a willingness to share and to not inflict too much damage––because let’s face it, we all do some damage––step right up and ignore those fools who think they can suppress the will of even those of us who are slightly asleep.
Pinky will tell it like it is. And there will be hugs and passion fruit kisses for everyone, until the world is free.
4 X 6 encaustic on paper by David Dinner - “The Way”
When David Dinner retired, he set out in search of a fresh start. On a visit to Kauaʻi, he heard a kumu (teacher) shake the earth with a pule (prayer) and knew he had found home.
The island awakened his love of writing. He co-founded Write On Kauai, a community writing group, and later helped create the Kauai Writers Conference. David creates beloved Pinky stories on Wednesday’s with LITerati Academy.
The Spirit of Thunder Beach is his debut novel.
Follow David’s wisdom filled essays on his Substack - Elder Insights.
It would be helpful to know who Pinky is as an intro to this essay.
Many thanks for posting this piece, Laura. As you know, Pinky is the main character in a novel in progress. In line for publication first by Acorn Publications is THE SPIRIT OF THUNDER BEACH, due to see the light of day in around six months. Then it will be Pinky’s turn.