Rainbow Bridge

 My best girl, Lily.  July 3, 2008 - December 11, 2021.  Over thirteen years, full of love and happiness.  I miss her so. 

The Looking Glass

 Ten years have passed since I started this blog and as I've written many times here, I never thought it would last very long. Setting goals with respect to it, keeping it eclectic in content with no theme made it more interesting for me (and easier) to continue. However, the biggest encouragement through it all has been the readers. Thank you to those who continue checking in, reading, and having interest in what I write and have to say. That's the greatest motivation of all. 

Regarding 'The Looking Glass'...there's a cartoon that depicts how differently men and women perceive their reflections when looking into a mirror. While it's a generalization and in no way accurately depicts everyone, it is somewhat spot-on.  A woman looking into a mirror focuses on the flaws she sees in herself; the flaws become so emphasized that the image staring back is a negative, ugly caricature.  A man, on the other hand, will gaze at himself, seeing a caricature of Adonis-like perfection. Again, just a generalization, but it does explain how too many women have a negative body image complex, and we unfairly compare ourselves to what we aren't and never will be. 

As women age, the issue stays with us but the comparison shifts to the younger version...what we looked like in our twenties and thirties. We weren't content with our appearances then, yet it's what we long to have on the older model. Rather than being content and happy with what we are, there's comparison that's never achievable.  I know I'll never look like the beautiful Christie Brinkley, but that's okay because I never did in the first place.  However, I should be okay with how I've aged, but that "never quite good enough" is on repeat in my head. We're too tough on ourselves, ladies. 

The selfies I share in this blog are an example: I took them looking into a mirror in front of my Christmas tree. While I think they're better than normal of myself, the lighting is actually terrible. The lights on my tree are not yellow, they're white/clear. Go figure. 

Finally, sharing 'The Looking Glass' below, with more emphasis on memories. So many thanks, yet again, for those who have inspired me the last ten years. The plan is to keep it going, and I hope you continue to read it. Much love and appreciation. 

The Looking Glass

 

By Veronica Randolph Batterson 

 

 

She was just a girl.  One that stared back at her sixty-year-old image reflected in the looking glass; gone were the age spots and wrinkles, replaced with the wide smile, strong jaw and smooth skin of her early twenties.  She wore the pink Chuck Taylor high-tops she loved, and carried a novel, sketch pad, and camera in her arms. Staples of her life. Was she listening to Train in Vain by The Clash, or Cyndi Lauper’s Girls Just Want to Have Fun? Had she been to class or was she going to class? The image turned her back, glancing over her shoulder at the future, then dissolved.

She was just a girl.

An even younger version appeared, gazing into the glass with wonder and curiosity about life; the future stared back, remembering.  She was awkward and skinny, self-conscious about both; she wrote poems about it and daydreamed.  Head in the clouds, always in the clouds.

  She was just a girl.

Then a jumble of images…Barbie dolls and Dancerina, Tippee Toes and The Muppets, Etch-A-Sketch and Easy Bake Oven, Mood Rings and Class Rings, Tip-It and Operation, Berets and Mortarboards, Close ‘N Play and Transistor Radios, Chrissy and Velvet, Pet Rocks and Toss Across, Baby Beans and Baby Alive, Thumbelina and Baby Tenderlove.

Mousetrap and Viewmaster, Spirograph and Lite-Brite, Barrel of Monkeys and Paper Dolls, Duncan Yo-Yos and Clackers, Peace Signs and Nike Classic Cortez, Love Beads and Puka Shells, Chokers and Neck Scarves, Earth Shoes and Bell Bottoms, Crochet and Macramé, The Hustle and Tetherball, Noxzema and Oil of Olay, Love’s Baby Soft and Avon’s Sweet Honesty, Scrunchies and Fingerless Gloves, Wayfarers and Shoulder Pads.

The looking glass cleared, along with the memories. Six decades stared at her, the mirror no longer reflecting the past.  She was just a girl, but a modified version of her younger self. That girl of ten, and 16, 21 and 30…the same girl at 40, 50 and even 60.  Experienced, but still a little naïve, skeptical and yet hopeful, still full of questions but possessing more answers to life. Always thinking and wondering. Creating.

She was still just a girl. 

What a Year

Tattered Cover Book Signing

As the title of this blog states, what a year. What an f-ing year. To think my January 2021 post was all about being happy that the wicked 2020 was over… That was good and everything, but 2021 socked me, sucker-punched me and almost knocked me out with surprising health issues and potential life changes that I didn’t see coming. 

At the end of 2020, I contracted Covid and was quite sick for over three weeks. It left me dealing with some long-hauler issues that have gotten much better, but still linger every once in a while, and followed me into the new year.  Then 2021 brought a series of MRIs, specialists, a lot of pain, cortisone injections, a skin biopsy, bloodwork re-checks, a diagnosis of osteoporosis and small fiber neuropathy. In October, I had my first annual Reclast Infusion for osteoporosis. Both vaccines, plus the booster, and always being masked in public are ways I continue doing my part. Fingers crossed that there are no more challenges, but I won’t assume or take anything for granted. 

Two big (really BIG or B-I-G) anniversaries in 2022…this blog will be a decade old. Then shortly afterward, I will enter the shocking decade, the OMG decade, the ‘I can’t believe it’ decade. Maybe I will have a party, or maybe not. After the last two years, I’m just living with gratitude, and trying to remain focused. Very little surprises me anymore. 

Small trips around Colorado, and then my first air travel in over two years: Thanksgiving in Chicago with family filled in the rest of the year. Many thanks to the Tattered Cover Book Store, one of the best independent book sellers in the country, for the invitation to participate in an in-store book signing in November. It felt as if normalcy is right around the corner. My best girl, Lily, remains part of my life.

Finally, an old friend of mine found a poem that I’d written for a high school publication when I was sixteen-years-old. I’ve been writing and drawing ever since I was old enough to use a pencil, and I’d like to share a bit of my teenaged thoughts below. Since titles and proper names can’t be copyrighted, I’ve done John Lennon no disservice with the title. 

In whatever way you choose to celebrate the season…enjoy the holidays. Put the jobs on the backburner and focus on the people in your life first. Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and Happiest of New Year! Thanks for the reads. 

 

 

Imagine

By Veronica Randolph (©1978 Veronica Randolph)

 

Imagine soaring high into the sky

As a seagull gliding, spreading its wings to fly.

Imagine seeing the waves crashing onto the beach

Feeling the spray

Seeing the stars

Looking close enough to reach.

 

Imagine a seashell buried deep beneath the sand

Being worn away 

As the waters roll onto the land.

Imagine hearing the surf, its mighty great roar

Sometimes thunderous

Still peaceful upon the shore.

 

Imagine every evening

Seeing a different sunset,

Beautiful colors dancing on the sand, warm and wet.

Imagine the cool breeze during the night

With the moon in the sky

Large, friendly and bright.

 

Imagine sleeping, waking

And living by the sea.

      There being a sense of peace

       Feeling free.

       Imagine.

 

 

 

 

  

Upcoming Book Signing

 

I've been invited by the Tattered Cover Bookstore in Denver, Colorado to participate in a quick book signing on Sunday, November 28th at 3pm. This will be at the Aspen Grove location. Copies of my books, Williamsburg Hill and Daniel's Esperanza, will be available for purchase. I'm looking forward to getting things going again after this too-long hiatus, and appreciate the invitation from this great bookstore. 

Also, it wouldn't be the holidays with me trying to sell my work in a blog post, so here it goes again. In addition to the appearance on November 28th, my books and photographs/art are always available for purchase either in bookstores, big box retailers that sell books, my websites, or elsewhere online.  Below are some screenshots of recent photos I've added to my Fine Art America page; currently a 20% sale is running on all purchases. Check it out at www.veronica-batterson.pixels.com

Hopefully, all of this will push me into starting (or finally finishing) projects that have been hanging around. It has been tough to get motivated. Which brings up something else. If you enjoy a person's work, then say it, promote it, encourage it, give it open and high reviews, share it. By doing this, more people find out about it, more sales are made, more opportunities happen, and it gives the author (artist, photographer) encouragement and a reason to continue. Writing is a solitary business. Writing a book can take a very long time; getting a book published can take years. Knowing that something you've dedicated this much time to doing is actually getting read can be the instigator for creating the next one. If enough people gave it a public shout-out, the opportunities could be phenomenal...book deals, agents, and/or movie options come to mind. We all need a little help. Be kind. Thanks, as always, for reading.

Keep up with my work here, or on my website at www.veronicabatterson.com.

The Playlist of My Youth

One of many albums in my collection

I’ve often written in this blog about the impact music has played in my life, how it fed my imagination and dreams, and its relevance in how I’m able to create. It sets the tone and inspires. My musical discovery began in the same manner as most pre-teens: the extreme dislike of what the older generation of the time favored, and listening to radio stations that reflected my own likes (often when my parents weren’t listening, but much easier to do so when I got my first transistor radio). 

I know most women of my generation rushed to the magazine stands at the local grocery stores looking for the latest issue of Tiger Beat Magazine, which had monthly sensationalistic coverage of the current heartthrobs, with color photo spread accompaniment. So many of those photographs were torn out and taped on my bedroom walls. Tony DeFranco and the DeFranco Family. The Bay City Rollers (which I think is the first time I’d ever seen a kilt, and it was cool. Of course.). Young teens. I was one of them, and it was how I also got to know the music of the time. 

When I was about seventeen, I attended my first concert. Peter Frampton. I’m sure he was featured in those Tiger Beat issues but, by that time, I’d grown out of them.  My tastes were maturing.  Over the years, I would see dozens of artists in concert, some I was fortunate enough to see before they were famous: Cheap Trick, The B52s, R.E.M.... What’s interesting (and wonderful) about my generation is that the great music of that era includes three decades of differing sounds and genres. It endures.

Then MTV launched. I was a communications major (broadcast journalism) when it first aired, and remember sending in an audition tape in hopes of being added as a future VJ (many did). That didn’t happen, of course, but I thought MTV the greatest thing of that time period and watched probably too many music videos at the time.  Many artists of the 1980s owe MTV much in spearheading, if not reinventing, their careers. 

My daughter has some of my albums of that time, or vinyl as it’s called today. She and I were talking about some of her favorites and I told her I’d make a playlist of my own for her. Then I turned to Spotify because you’re able to share a playlist you create with others, but as in most things that involve a password, I couldn’t figure it out because I’m technology-challenged. Oh, well. It takes me a while, and it’s much faster if I just share it here. 

So, I’ve included what I call a playlist of my youth in no particular order. These songs are so relevant to me that every time I listen to them, I’m taken somewhere else…nostalgia does this. This is not a soundtrack of my life (only part of it) because there is so much music that I currently listen to that was created much later, and none of it is listed here. I’ve also not included any tracks by my favorite artists and bands, such as Fleetwood Mac, Eagles (including Glenn Frey and Don Henley solo), U2, Heart, Journey, Elton John, etc. because I like most of the music from these artists. All of this is music of my life. Below are simply individual songs that influenced me in my early years (pre-teen, teen, and early twenties), and I’ve certainly overlooked/forgotten some.  Also, I’m only mentioning the songs and the artists who performed them. If you can figure out Spotify, maybe create your own playlist. I guess I’ll continue using my iPod until it dies. Thanks for reading.

 

For What It’s Worth – Buffalo Springfield

My Back Pages – The Byrds

Get Together – The Youngbloods

In My Life – The Beatles

Drift Away – Dobie Gray

Dance with Me – Orleans 

Coming Around Again – Carly Simon

Will You Love Me Tomorrow? – Carole King

If You Could Read My Mind – Gordon Lightfoot

Alone Again (Naturally) – Gilbert O’Sullivan 

Wedding Song – Noel Paul Stookey

Sentimental Lady – Bob Welch

Sister Golden Hair – America

Ventura Highway – America 

Holiday – Madonna 

Borderline – Madonna

Freedom – George Michael

Father Figure – George Michael

You’re Only Lonely – J.D. Souther

Reminiscing – Little River Band

Just Between You and Me – April Wine 

More than a Feeling – Boston 

Good Times Roll – The Cars

Since You’re Gone – The Cars

How ‘Bout Us – Champaign 

If You Leave Me Now – Chicago 

Just Remember I Love You – Firefall

You Are the Woman – Firefall

Right Down the Line – Gerry Rafferty

Our Lips Are Sealed – The Go-Gos

Rocky Mountain High – John Denver

Imagine – John Lennon 

Lola – The Kinks 

I Melt for You – Modern English

Always Something There to Remind Me – Naked Eyes

Lotta Love – Nicolette Larson

Magic – Olivia Newton-John 

Baby, I Love Your Way – Peter Frampton

Show Me the Way – Peter Frampton

You’re My Best Friend – Queen 

Don’t You (Forget About Me) – Simple Minds 

Into the Mystic – Van Morrison 

 

  

The Silent Partner

 

On a visit to Pagosa Springs, Colorado, I bought a book called Coyote Cowboy Poetry from a local antique store. Written by Baxter Black and published in 1986, the book is full of entertaining and straight forward thoughts from a person whose bio describes him as an American Cowboy, Poet, and Western Humorist. One doesn’t have to be a cowboy for his words to resonate. 

I would like to share one of those poems here.  For all the partners, spouses, and couples, the ones that built together, started from scratch, and sacrificed together, the silent ones laying the foundation for the exuberant ones, the behind the scenes ones to those in the spotlight, the worker bees to the queen bee, the ones who know the business and how it works but remain in the shadows for that not-so-silent-partner, the ones who take care of the incidentals so the big stuff can happen, and so many more too numerous to mention…The Silent Partner is for all and is timeless. Its message is clear. Appreciation. Humility. Equality. Acknowledgment. 

As for Black, born in 1945, he is a former veterinarian who has written a number of books, all still available for purchase. 

 

The Silent Partner

By Baxter Black

 

Her name’s on the note at the PCA, boys,

Though she might have questioned the loan

She signed her John Henry ‘neath yours on the line

And she will ‘til the kids are all grown.

 

Nobody’s counted the pickups she’s pulled

Or measured the miles she’s put on the rake

Kept track of the pancakes or lunches she’s packed

Or the number of times she lay there awake

 

Praying her prayers for the man in her bed

God only knows, ‘cause He’s keepin’ track.

She’s buildin’ up interest somewhere down the line

To use in a trade on your first cardiac.

 

She puts up with cows she knows you should cull

Scourin’ calves on the livin’ room floor,

Tracks in the bathroom and mud on the sheets, 

Flies in the kitchen from broken screen doors.

 

She patiently listens to stories you tell

Recounting the skill of your blue heeler mate.

She wishes, herself, if that dog was so smart

You could teach that pot licker to open a gate!

 

She offers opinions that seldom sink in

‘Til time, oft as not, proves she was right.

But it’s damn hard to figger how she coulda known?

You’re not the only one who worries at night. 

 

She’s old as the mountain and young as the spring

Timeless in labor and wisdom and love.

Of all of God’s creatures that man gets to share

The wife of a cowman was sent from above.

 

So lay there tonight when you go to bed.

Remember your partner, she’s tried and she’s true.

You’re lucky, my man, to have such a friend

Take care of her, ‘cause she takes care of you.

 

Illustration by Don Gill, as seen in the book

Quotes About Living

 

Lately, I've found the need to read more motivational words that offer wisdom and clarity. While I have a number of books that provide solace, peace and encouragement, there is one little book that I try to reach for every morning. To say it clears my head is an understatement. It's needed during these challenging times when nothing seems to being going in the right direction; when kindness and common decency are missing in how people are treated.

Below are some quotes from the lovely book, Quotes About Living, written by Doe Zantamata. 

Behind each set of eyes lives another wandering soul who, under different circumstances, could have been you. 

Your intuition is a sense that has been given to you not to ignore but to use and and to help you navigate through life. Trust your intuition. If something feels wrong, it probably is. 

Let your intuition be your guide, but keep your mind alert to process what that sense is telling you. 

Forgive yourself for not knowing what you didn't know before you learned it. 

An apology doesn't come with an eraser. Forgiveness doesn't mean memory loss. Once the house of trust is broken, it has to be rebuilt. Things aren't the way they were before, and they may not be for some time. 

Loving and supporting someone is not the same as loving and supporting someone's actions if they are harming themselves or others. The first encourages, the second enables. 

Don't let something entirely out of your control entirely control you. 

Circumstances that were out of your control put you where you started. Choices that are in your control get you where you end up. 

Time must be good at hiding. If you don't make an effort to find it, it sure will sneak up on you. 

The freedom to be yourself is a gift only you can give yourself. But once you do, no one can take it away.