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. 

Fairy Tales and Such

I'm sharing two poems that I wrote for my daughters when they were quite young. One I've shared here before, written with my youngest in mind when she encountered falling snow for the first time. Both have copyright dates decades ago, but copyright still applies. 

What's up next regarding writing is simply deciding which route to pursue. I have three books outlined; maybe I should take a poll with the most popular choice being the manuscript I start writing next. Decisions. 

Thank you to all for "the reads" and don't forget my websites, www.veronicabatterson.com, and www.veronica-batterson.pixels.com for more updates, photographs and artwork.

Fairy Tales

 

By Veronica Randolph Batterson

©Veronica Randolph Batterson 

 

Once upon a time, the story began,

We have heard it over and again.

It happened in a far away place, a very long time ago,

Where kings loved queens, and knights braved places where no one else would go.

 

The dragons breathed fire and villains were mean,

Wizards knew their magic, or so it seemed.

Damsels in distress were trapped high in a tower,

Witches and warlocks fought each other for power.

 

Unicorns were horse fairies that flew through the sky,

Granting wishes to good children they often passed by.

Stardust and glitter mixed together on the pages,

To stay with each reader forever through the ages.

 

This fairy tale kingdom we all seem to know,

Has pixies and purple castles and seven dwarfs who never grow.

What is the moral and what message does the story send?

Just that everyone lived happily ever after.

The end.

Playtime

 

By Veronica Randolph Batterson

 ©Veronica Randolph Batterson

 

A child of three moved far away

Where heavy coats and mittens were needed to play.

For outside it was blustery, cold and wet

“Whoever heard of playing in weather like this?” her mommy would fret.

 

Where they were from the weather was warm and sunny

Here all the children looked kind of funny.

For they were bundled and covered, not a visible face

Resembling martians, UFOs or something from outer space.

They wobbled and they hobbled, barely able to walk

Don’t expect words from them for they’re too cold to talk!

 

So this young child stepped outdoors one day

And looked up at the falling snow to say,

“What are these things dropping from the skies?”

“It’s snow, honey,” her mommy said.

“Well, it’s getting in my eyes!”

 

The Little Boltons

 

Twenty years ago, while visiting London with my family, we stayed in a flat on a street called The Little Boltons. Located in the Brompton District of the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea, I remember the location being convenient to the Earl’s Court Tube Station (which we utilized a number of times), Kensington Palace, and the Victoria and Albert Museum; it was also a nice change from hotels in commercial areas. It’s a neighborhood, and a wonderful place to stay if traveling with children as we were at the time. 

 The Little Boltons form part of the Boltons Conservation Area built between 1850 and 1870, with The Boltons (mansions at a much greater price) to the east. The word ‘little’ is deceptive. A Maisonette (main floor and ground level residence) on this road is currently listed for sale at £6,950,000. This neighborhood is described as being premiere property in the city of London, and I assume most aren’t leased as short-term rentals.

Our stay was in a beautiful semi-detached house, with four flats occupying the structure. Entrance was through the front door for all residents, then each flat had its own private entrance once inside. There was one flat per floor.  A lovely garden was shared via the back courtyard. 

Early in our visit, the resident of the main floor flat greeted us as we returned from a day of sightseeing. I remember her kindness, and the welcome manner she exuded to a couple of American tourists with young children in tow. She invited us inside her home, chatting about the city, and inquiring of our interests and what we had planned for our visit. The traditional furnishings gracing her reception room, the elegant fireplace directly opposite the door, and the beautiful bay window overlooking the front of the residence remain clear in my mind. Imagine inviting complete strangers into your home; an invitation not extended very often two decades ago, but certainly a rare event in today’s world. 

Her name was Shelley Vaughan Williams. I recall mentioning my interest in writing and someday hoping to publish a book. She was very interested, encouraging, and eventually disclosed that she penned one, as well. Entitled When Gazelles Leap, and published in 1997, the book is an anthology of poetry and prose, written after she sustained a critical brain aneurysm. She graciously gave us a copy, inscribing it with a personal message. 

I wish there had been enough time to get to know her; if instant access to information around the world had been available then, it would have been easier to do. She was an accomplished woman, and according to her bio in the book, “Profoundly Pro-American”. This might explain her interest in us. Shelley Vaughan Williams passed in 2016 at the age of 87. 

As for the neighborhood, a search on Google (as I did for researching this post) will reveal the number of prominent people who have at one time owned one of the mansions in The Boltons. However, my husband and I were surprised at discovering someone who called The Little Boltons home at one time. 

At the corner of Old Brompton Road and The Little Boltons, Lady Diana Spencer lived for two years in 60 Coleherne Court while engaged to Prince Charles. Her parents bought the flat for her, which she shared with three roommates. All of the paparazzi photographs of her at the time outside of her apartment were less than a two-minute walk from where we stayed. As my husband asked once I told him of the discovery, “How many times did we walk past it?” We didn’t know at the time, as there were no markers indicating it. Her death occurred in 1997, four years before we stayed there. I read that a marker is in the works to commemorate what would’ve been her 60^th birthday. 

To end, a poem from When Gazelles Leap by Shelley Vaughan Williams.

 

The Inbetween

How do we live and how do we die?

What happens in between?

A child or two who grows away

A marriage or not,

Forget-me-not,

And rue and rosemary.

 

But sometimes inbetween

The monotony proceeding

A star shoots up in the vast night sky

Brave force of love and being

And moonlight, moon-bright,

The inbetween

Is suddenly a rosary.

That Quote from Daniel's Esperanza

 “When you turn around, you’ll see something I bet you’ve never seen before. If it takes your breath away, then you’ll fit in nicely. If you don’t feel anything, then maybe you don’t belong here.” - Daniel's Esperanza, Veronica Randolph Batterson 

 

 

In 2014 my novel, Daniel’s Esperanza, was published and I never imagined a quote from the book would mean so much to so many people.  Someone somewhere used it, applied it to something inspirational, often in reference to the state of New Mexico, attached hashtags and it took off into the virtual world like wildfire. Thank you to all who give me credit for it, and for referencing the book.  I’ve posted about this previously, but I continue to be amazed at its relevance to so many people and that it came from this little book, which means so much to me. I’m grateful.

The setting for Daniel’s Esperanza is New Mexico, and I wrote it to draw attention to the plight of wild mustangs. After researching and visiting a wild horse sanctuary in northern New Mexico, the story evolved to include characters living in the west. The quote comes from dialogue between two characters, Frank and Daniel. Frank is referencing the band of wild horses that Daniel will see for the first time when he turns around.  The book continues to sell, is available on Amazon in both paperback and Kindle, and can be ordered from any bookstore or big box store that sells books (Target, Walmart, Costco, Meijer, grocery store chains). 

Below are snapshots of some of the places this quote resides. Again, thanks to all who give me the appropriate credit for it.  It’s appreciated.  

Almost Thirteen...My Best Girl

Last week, I had to take my sweet dog to the emergency veterinary clinic. Ongoing issues mostly attributed to the fact she is in her senior years were the reasons, but as I was driving her there I worried it might be the end for her. Antibiotics, an anti-nausea injection, plus an IV helped her recover and 24 hours later she was resting comfortably at home by my side, as if nothing had happened. But it has been a little difficult to focus on much of anything else, as I worry about when the next episode will happen.

Lily will be thirteen on July 3. This sweet golden retriever has been my beautiful dog since she was about six or seven weeks old.  She has been such a relevant part of my life, being there while I completed and published all four of my books, and readily obliging me in being the canine subject model in many of my photographs. She cares very little about being photographed these days, but she used to be this pose-for-anything-supermodel. I've written about her here more than once in this nine year old blog; she's earned many nicknames as I've shared, but the one now is Best Girl, the companion. That's what we become in our older years, and that title is earned. 

Almost thirteen. My patriotic dog.