As usual, I loved this letter (I don't know if you can tell, but I'm slowly working my way back through your catalogue!😂). Your story about your Mawmaw lacking dolls in her childhood reminded me a lot of my own grandmother. She was born later, in 1945, and grew up in Liverpool during the years of post-war rations. I remember my disbelief when I learned that she was 10 before she tasted jam for the first time! But of course, she couldn't miss what she'd never tried. This same grandmother sailed boats with her big brother, became a nurse after hating school, and saw The Beatles perform at The Cavern before they were *The Beatles* -- all before she came to South Africa with my grandfather to start their new life together. Your letters remind me to think of all the little histories of my family and celebrate the assemblage of stories that had to happen for me to exist!
I love your story about your grandmother! And you’ve made me feel seen and heard as you work through my back catalog. Your interest gives me encouragement! Yes, exactly, so beautiful all of the tiny turns of a foot or the blooms of a smile that meant we were born!
When this post drifted into my virtual letter box last night I consciously set it aside to enjoy with my first cup of tea this morning (rather than my last cup of tea last night). Thank you for singing so sweetly while I sipped my potion of dried leaf soakings dressed with bee spit and the opaque white fluid rich in fat and protein yielded by the friendly bovine living just over my garden fence (tea really is a bizarre substance once you break it down). You reminded me of the dolls my auntie dressed for me and my cousin. They were a flat-chested product sold by Mattel, called Skipper. My cousin’s had pale skin and blonde hair, like her. Mine had brown skin and long brown hair like me. We loved them. Auntie Māra made them each a wardrobe of outfits in each of our favourite colours…including velvet sharing dresses and tiny cardigans and mittens she knitted using darning needles. Mine (and all her clothes) were in a treasure box in the attic when the bushfire swept through in 1983. Oddly enough that might (in retrospect) have saved me the distress of watching the grandchildren I adore (but who have so many toys they have no concept of why this one would be so precious to me) casually losing all the tiny treasures. The universe works in mysterious ways.
Thank you so much, India, for sharing the story of your Skipper and her lovingly made treasure of a wardrobe. When you speak about the possible positive side of her being caught in the bush fire, the way you said it made me think. There are some things that though we may miss them (even terribly) have an existence in their absence which tells a story, too. It’s only a small object, but I remember my Dad giving me a little vintage metal badge when I was in my twenties that said, “Keep Fit. Play Hockey.” He knew I loved vintage badges and he wasn’t a frequent gift-giver. So, I loved it and wore it all of the time until it fell off while I was gardening. Even though I looked in the soil where I’d been working and retraced my walking paths, I never found it. But I still think about it and how it’s in the ground at my Pennsylvania farmhouse where things didn’t work out as I’d hoped. And maybe it’s rusted into the ground or maybe someone digging a hole for a rose or azalea will find it and say, “Hey, look at this cool old badge! Keep fit. Play Hockey.” Thank you for helping me to see all of this in my mind this morning, India! And thank you, again, for writing about your Skipper. xx
I love this peek into your songwriting process and especially this: "The song follows me around for a while – sometimes years." That's what happens with my stories, too. And realizing that they are not yet ripe is such a nicer way of putting it then beating yourself up because they aren't written yet.
I like knowing that your stories follow you around for a long time, too. Stanley Bear and Odile say hi! They’re relieved that the dolls have their limbs all in place again. Being nursing assistants is not as good as being bakery assistants in their opinion. Though they are very gentle helpers. :-)
Everything about this song is wonderful! Thank you so much for sharing it! (I'm afraid dolls give me the heebie-jeebies, but your personal recollections might make me reconsider...one day...perhaps. They do look happy in your photos.😉)
I’m so pleased you like the song and I’m so glad you’re here. I totally understand about the dolls. I draw the line at clown dolls, so even I have my limit 😂 But, yes, it’s nice to remember how Mawmaw loved to give me dolls.
Yes! Something’s just not right about adults hiding behind painted on expressions…🤣 (My apologies to the career clowns out there. I’m sure you’re wonderful people beneath the scary makeup!)
Re. songwriting: exactly that. I have a Notes folder on my phone called “Song Ideas”. Some of the ideas are just a line or two, others are nearly a full song worth of lyrics — which often change radically as the song percolates in my head over the months. And some are Voice Memo recordings of hummed melodies or guitar riffs with no words attached to them. I think it’s important not to push them to a finish until they’re ready — and sometime I think they’re finished and I go out and perform them live and then decide they weren’t finished after all and I need to let them percolate some more in the back of my mind — and at least one of the best songs I’ve written did that for about 3 years, then came back to me with a totally different rhythm and melody to that earlier incarnation I’d performed in concert three years earlier. It’s all part of the process. Sending love!
Sarah! I love hearing about your process too! And I love that you don't "push" songs either. They really do need to find their way into the light and onto the stage or onto an album. Sooooo very good to share this camaraderie with you in our methods.
add surgeon to your never-ending collection of hats. amazing! 🫶🏻
As usual, I loved this letter (I don't know if you can tell, but I'm slowly working my way back through your catalogue!😂). Your story about your Mawmaw lacking dolls in her childhood reminded me a lot of my own grandmother. She was born later, in 1945, and grew up in Liverpool during the years of post-war rations. I remember my disbelief when I learned that she was 10 before she tasted jam for the first time! But of course, she couldn't miss what she'd never tried. This same grandmother sailed boats with her big brother, became a nurse after hating school, and saw The Beatles perform at The Cavern before they were *The Beatles* -- all before she came to South Africa with my grandfather to start their new life together. Your letters remind me to think of all the little histories of my family and celebrate the assemblage of stories that had to happen for me to exist!
I love your story about your grandmother! And you’ve made me feel seen and heard as you work through my back catalog. Your interest gives me encouragement! Yes, exactly, so beautiful all of the tiny turns of a foot or the blooms of a smile that meant we were born!
I'm so glad! 🥹 it's rare that you get to interact with an author you admire, so I'm relishing the opportunity!
When this post drifted into my virtual letter box last night I consciously set it aside to enjoy with my first cup of tea this morning (rather than my last cup of tea last night). Thank you for singing so sweetly while I sipped my potion of dried leaf soakings dressed with bee spit and the opaque white fluid rich in fat and protein yielded by the friendly bovine living just over my garden fence (tea really is a bizarre substance once you break it down). You reminded me of the dolls my auntie dressed for me and my cousin. They were a flat-chested product sold by Mattel, called Skipper. My cousin’s had pale skin and blonde hair, like her. Mine had brown skin and long brown hair like me. We loved them. Auntie Māra made them each a wardrobe of outfits in each of our favourite colours…including velvet sharing dresses and tiny cardigans and mittens she knitted using darning needles. Mine (and all her clothes) were in a treasure box in the attic when the bushfire swept through in 1983. Oddly enough that might (in retrospect) have saved me the distress of watching the grandchildren I adore (but who have so many toys they have no concept of why this one would be so precious to me) casually losing all the tiny treasures. The universe works in mysterious ways.
Thank you so much, India, for sharing the story of your Skipper and her lovingly made treasure of a wardrobe. When you speak about the possible positive side of her being caught in the bush fire, the way you said it made me think. There are some things that though we may miss them (even terribly) have an existence in their absence which tells a story, too. It’s only a small object, but I remember my Dad giving me a little vintage metal badge when I was in my twenties that said, “Keep Fit. Play Hockey.” He knew I loved vintage badges and he wasn’t a frequent gift-giver. So, I loved it and wore it all of the time until it fell off while I was gardening. Even though I looked in the soil where I’d been working and retraced my walking paths, I never found it. But I still think about it and how it’s in the ground at my Pennsylvania farmhouse where things didn’t work out as I’d hoped. And maybe it’s rusted into the ground or maybe someone digging a hole for a rose or azalea will find it and say, “Hey, look at this cool old badge! Keep fit. Play Hockey.” Thank you for helping me to see all of this in my mind this morning, India! And thank you, again, for writing about your Skipper. xx
I love "Picnic in the Sky" so much!
I love this peek into your songwriting process and especially this: "The song follows me around for a while – sometimes years." That's what happens with my stories, too. And realizing that they are not yet ripe is such a nicer way of putting it then beating yourself up because they aren't written yet.
I like knowing that your stories follow you around for a long time, too. Stanley Bear and Odile say hi! They’re relieved that the dolls have their limbs all in place again. Being nursing assistants is not as good as being bakery assistants in their opinion. Though they are very gentle helpers. :-)
Everything about this song is wonderful! Thank you so much for sharing it! (I'm afraid dolls give me the heebie-jeebies, but your personal recollections might make me reconsider...one day...perhaps. They do look happy in your photos.😉)
I’m so pleased you like the song and I’m so glad you’re here. I totally understand about the dolls. I draw the line at clown dolls, so even I have my limit 😂 But, yes, it’s nice to remember how Mawmaw loved to give me dolls.
Oh, dear...don't get me started on clowns...😨 I definitely love reading your warm memories of family!
Eeek me neither. Especially not humans dressed as clowns. They terrify me.
Yes! Something’s just not right about adults hiding behind painted on expressions…🤣 (My apologies to the career clowns out there. I’m sure you’re wonderful people beneath the scary makeup!)
Thank you for sharing my song, Steve!
Re. songwriting: exactly that. I have a Notes folder on my phone called “Song Ideas”. Some of the ideas are just a line or two, others are nearly a full song worth of lyrics — which often change radically as the song percolates in my head over the months. And some are Voice Memo recordings of hummed melodies or guitar riffs with no words attached to them. I think it’s important not to push them to a finish until they’re ready — and sometime I think they’re finished and I go out and perform them live and then decide they weren’t finished after all and I need to let them percolate some more in the back of my mind — and at least one of the best songs I’ve written did that for about 3 years, then came back to me with a totally different rhythm and melody to that earlier incarnation I’d performed in concert three years earlier. It’s all part of the process. Sending love!
Sarah! I love hearing about your process too! And I love that you don't "push" songs either. They really do need to find their way into the light and onto the stage or onto an album. Sooooo very good to share this camaraderie with you in our methods.
Indeed it is! ❤️❤️❤️
Really love this!
Thank you, Steve!!