Something In The Way You Moved

Something, The Beatles

I Don't Have ... Since I Don't Have You

Since I Don't Have You, The Skyliners

Wow, it's a particularly rough night tonight.

But do you remember?

Highwayman, The Highwaymen
Like theTraveling Wilburys this was a super-group. Two different genres, the Highwaymen and the Traveling Wilburys so one really can't compare the two. What I like most about this concert is how the audience responded to each of the singers as they each came up separately. The audience was genuinely thrilled.

Eight Years

She said it would take eight years.

It's been eight years.

And not a moment goes by.

I Don't Know Why (I Didn't Come), Norah Jones

Yorkshire...meteors...pitch black midnights...village churches...Te Deum...you will be on my mind forever...but...

I've Got To See You Again, Norah Jones

Handle With Care

Saturday night; beautiful night for a bike ride; here, now, at Starbucks.

The Starbucks playlist is incredible:

• Don't Know Why, actually sung by Norah Jones
• Handle With Care, by an unknown group; written by Traveling Wilburys
• Dance Me To the End of Love, by an unknown female vocalist, Leonard Cohen's song

Writing credits for Handle With Care are shared by all five Wilburys, but the words are mostly Dylan's it seems, unless George Harrison, who appears to get most of the credit for the song, was greatly influenced by Dylan. Perhaps the idea for the song was George's and all band members contributed a line or a stanza, but certainly this is a "Bob Dylan stanza":

Been stuck in airports, terrorized
Sent to meetings, hypnotized
Overexposed, commercialized
Handle me with care.

A random note, that's all.
Handle With Care, The Traveling Wilburys

Rievaulx Abbey

The other day we were in Provincetown, Cape Cod, Massachusetts, which has become a mecca for artists, much like Martha's Vineyard.

There was a painting there that reminded me of Rievaulx Abbey: the proprietor did not know the background to that particular painting. Perhaps the painter had been to Yorkshire; perhaps he/she had seen a photograph.

But it brought back many sweet memories.

There was a time when I could discuss the various religious sects and the many abbeys in Yorkshire, but I have forgotten much. Memory fades. I was going to post a YouTube video of "Faded Love," but the love did not fade. Memories fade, but the love did not fade.

So, maybe something else:
Sea of Heartbreak, Don Gibson
This was a huge hit but the tempo and the light-hearted back-up singers don't fit the lyrics.

Everytime I see "Barnhill" and The Visual ...

All Alone Am I, Brenda Lee

More Whitby Memories

From another site:

Scoresby became Vicar of Bradford -- where his parishioners included the Reverend Patrick Brontë of Haworth village, and his young daughters -- wow, wow, wow; "Scoresby turned his scientific attention to the mysterious forces of mesmerism; instead of dealing in oil and whalebone, Whitby now traded in jewellery carved from the shiny black jet found it its cliffs and made mournfully fashionable by a perennially grieving queen."

I still remember -- vividly -- the black jet small cross that I bought in Whitby for our older daughter.

Idle Chatter: Yorkshire, and Cape Cod, and Ten New Songs

After almost a decade of an aggressive reading program, I think I am most fortunate to have spent so much time in Yorkshire, and interestingly enough, Cape Cod. Much of western world history has its roots in Scotland and Yorkshire; and surprisingly, one can say the same for Cape Cod.

I wrote this random now while reading Philip Hoare's The Whale and listening to Leonard Cohen's Ten New Songs. Sublime.

Whitby Memories

From another post:

Burton Constable --> Bridlington --> Filey --> Scarborough (I hiked this area some years ago); "If the past is a contraction of what has passed, then the future exists only if we imagine it."; giant white golf balls of Fylingdales listening station; Whitby; author's great-grandfather emigrated from Ireland, ended up in Whitby; grandfather raised in Whitby; Bram Stoker living in Whitby at the time.

The halcyon days of Yorkshire. We were so fortunate to have that time together. 

Gentle On My Mind.

Link to an earlier post. The feelings have not changed.

Wow, Isn't This The Truth?

One year of being with you ...
One Year of Love, Queen
I guess I'm in the mood for music tonight:
And I love her, The Beatles
The St Louis Cardinals should have been in the World Series this year. They weren't.

And more:
Oh, Darling! The Beatles

All I Can Do Tonight

Re-post an earlier song --


Try Not To Look So Pretty, Dwight Yoakim   Interestingly, I don't think you ever had to try to look pretty. You were naturally gorgeous.

Not A Moment Goes By

Maybe later I will have the energy to find a video to put here.

Yorkshire.

Cutting back the overgrown hedge so you could see your beautiful valley

Midnight walks; pitch black; middle of the winter. 

Okay, I'll never find another you.

I'll Never Find Another You, The Seekers

Some Memories Never Die

"Full Circle" was written specifically for you.

Te Deum, Arvo Part

I Hunger For Your Touch

Updates

September 9, 2012: Sunday evenings are always the worse for me. It's a Sunday evening and I think I miss you more than ever.

Original Post

Hi,

 So many folks have covered this song, it really doesn't matter which version to play.

I just happened to be surfing some "Hank Williams" music (see Jerry Jeff Walker) and ran across LeAnn.

I hunger for your touch.

Unchained Melody, LeAnn Rimes

Time can do so much.

But not in this case.

I bought a small book this evening: Shakespeare's sonnets. It would be fun to read them aloud to you.

After Midnight And I Can't Get My Mind Off You

We never listened to the Bond theme songs. There is absolutely no connection between the Bond theme songs and you and me.

It's after midnight and I can't get you off my mind. I need to listen to music and for some reason the Bond theme songs connected me with those wonderful months in Yorkshire.

But that's all I can write tonight.
The top ten Bond theme songs

I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do See You in This ...

I see you on the left when Anna and Anni-Frid are singing

Walking

Last night the house was a whirlwind of activity. I was starting a shower for the 6 y/o granddaughter. Our daughter and son-in-law were packing for an early departure the next morning, to return to Portland, Oregon. In the background, a CD of Ennio Morricone's soundtracks for Clint Eastwood's spaghetti westerns, such as A Fistful of Dollars; The Good, Bad, and The Ugly, etc. Listening to such music puts me in a melancholy mood ("Lara's Theme" is perhaps the most difficult soundtrack to listen to); the mood brings back memories of Yorkshire where I had a soul mate for walking.

There are times when I look back I feel I was walking with Emily Brontë -- not Jane Austen -- when I was walking with Pat. I think Emily Brontë would have been "fun" to walk with.  I don't think I could have met Jane Austen's standards; I don't think Jane would have been a walker. Emily would have definitely been a walker. Emily no doubt spent a lot of time on the wind-blown moors by herself, probably to get away from her father, her brother, and even occasionally, from her sisters.

16 Parkside Lane

This has nothing to do with Barnhill HG3 5DH, but it's a story I would love to have shared with ...

Many, many summers ago, during my college years I met the "Linda" of my life. I have never been able to get Linda out of my mind though I last saw her back in the early 70's.

Fast forward.

Tonight while in my late-night fugue state drifting through YouTube songs, I stumbled across Harry Chapin's Taxi.  Early in the song he mentions "16 Parkside Lane" and someone in the comment section asked if anyone had ever google-mapped "16 Parkside Lane." It turns out there is such a location just a few miles east of where Linda grew up in Westfield, New Jersey.

Just looking at that map again brought back a lot of bittersweet memories. Wow. Incredible. And then I think of all that has happened in the past forty years or so. Linda is gone now, and she never would have ended up at 16 Parkside Lane. Or could she have?

Not a Moment Goes By ....

There Ain't No Sunshine ...

It is amazing the effect music has on some folks.

Sitting in Starbucks this morning, updating my Bakken oil blog, with non-descript elevator music in the background. And then, "There Ain't No Sunshine..." a cover...but very good.

It immediately brought me back to 1971 and Boston. I don't know why. It was not a song we shared, but wow, the neurons are firing, taking me back to the brick brownstone..

There Ain't No Sunshine, Bill Withers

You Are The Prettiest Star

There are a handful of songs that can transport me back to the asphalt roads where I walked in Yorkshire so many years ago, where I would get picked up by the prettiest star ...

And this is one of the songs. It is impossible to articulate the feeling of the cerebral and neck veins dilating and the cascade of blood in free fall to the chest when this song comes on. The first few distinctive chords, and if sitting, my whole upper body slumps. I don't think I could remain standing if the song "appeared" without warning.

I've never really listened to the lyrics closely -- until tonight.

Cold fire, you've got everything but cold fire
You will be my rest and peace child
I moved up to take a place, near you

So tired, it's the sky that makes you feel tried
It's a trick to make you see wide
It can all but break your heart, in pieces

Staying back in your memory
Are the movies in the dark.
How you moved is all it takes
To sing a song of when I loved
The Prettiest Star.

One day though it might as well be someday
You and I will rise up all the way
All because of what you are
The Prettiest Star

Staying back in your memory
Are the movies in the past
How you moved is all it takes
To sing a song of when I loved
The Prettiest Star.

One day though it might as well be someday,
You will rise up high and take us all the way,
All because of what you are:
The Prettiest Star.

The Prettiest Star, David Bowie

Dido's Lament

Don't ask me how I got here.

But when I hear this, I hear Arvo Part. I think of that little church in the middle of the night.


Dido's Lament, Henry Purcell

I See Your Face

When I want to see you again all I have to do is watch this video:

Viens, Viens, Marie LaforetNote: the performance is dated 1973, the date we graduated from college.

Just a song tonight...

Try Not To Look So Pretty, Dwight Yoakim   Interestingly, I don't think you ever had to try to look pretty. You were naturally gorgeous.

BDUs at RAF Lakenheath

I remember distinctly how you told me that one day visiting RAF Lakenheath, every time you turned a corner and saw an airman in uniform (BDUs) you thought you had seen me.

No YouTube video for now; just a memory. I suppose if I had the energy, I could post a video clip of "Ghost" with Demi Moore, Patrick Swayze, and Whoopi Goldberg.

But tonight no energy. Just memories.

Memories? Memories of walking in the Yorkshire parks -- bright sunny days, overcast days, drizzly, cold days; rainy days. Windy days. It did not matter; it would not matter. Hypoglycemia. Needing to be held to keep from falling.

I couldn't post without a video. I looked for something. I finally found it. I can't tell you how I got here, but here I am, "until I gain control again."

Until I Gain Control Again, Willie Nelson, Emmylou HarrisUntil I gain control again.

What Becomes of the Broken Hearted?

What Becomes of the Broken Hearted, Jimmy Ruffin
... of that sweet love, now departed?

Let's Just Kiss and Say Goodbye

"When in the end, the day came on which I was going away ... "


Let's Just Kiss and Say Goodbye, The Manhattans

Just A Closer Walk With Thee

I am weak but thou art strong. 


Judith Durham and the Seekers

A World Of Our Own

A World Of Our Own, The Seekers

No Words Needed

Goodnight, Sweetheart, Goodnight, The SpanielsWell, it's 3 o'clock in the morning...
I hate to leave you...
....because I love you so.

I Still Go To Pieces

OMG.

I heard this for the first time tonight.

And within the first few phrases one vision flashed across my mind. Wow, do I miss you.


I Go To Pieces, Del Shannon
When I see her coming down the street
I get so shaky and I feel so weak
I tell my eyes to look the other way
They don't seem to hear a word I say
I go to pieces
And I wanna cry
I go to pieces
And I almost die
Every time my baby passes by...

I remember when she said
When she said
Goodbye
Baby
We'll meet again soon
Maybe
But until we do
All my best to you...

Deep, deep storage....

Memories ... Again

This takes me back to the house where I cut the hedge so you could see your beautiful valley, and where I ran down to the country store Sunday mornings to get bread, cheese, ham, and two Sunday newspapers.

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen
And this takes me back to the evenings when I had to leave, running across the dark highway and back to Boogie Street.

Boogie Street, Leonard Cohen

Highway 61 and a Blue Toyota Yaris

Whether it is reading or listening to music, I often get into a phase, "my Hemingway phase," "my Virginia Woolf phase," etc.

Right now it's Bob Dylan's Highway 61 Revisited.


Highway 61 Revisited, Million Dollar BasherCritics have written that Dylan's ability to combine driving, complex, blues-based rock music with the power of poetry made Highway 61 Revisited one of the most influential albums ever recorded. -- Wiki

If I've listened to this song once in the past 72 hours, I've listened to it one hundred times. The louder the better.

If I could I would take a drive from Minnesota to New Orleans on Highway 61. If I could plan it, I would start walking and then have a beautiful woman in a blue Toyota Yaris pick me up. Smile and all.

Postcards from the Yorkshire Dales

Yorkshire Dales

Buttertubs Pass, Yorkshire

Viens, Viens, Marie Leforte

I can't recall the language requirements any more, but suffice it to say I took one or two years (I forget) of Latin in middle school and two years of German in high school. In college I took two years of German. I signed up for and started first year French after the second year of German. Both Latin and German "made sense." Latin was a "dead language" so we didn't have to learn to speak it; that knocked off about half the challenge, for me. German was easy in that one pronounced words pretty much like they appeared. But, wow, French. It seemed like half the letters weren't pronounced. I never got it. On top of that my instructor was a mousy little Frenchman with a speech impediment. French was his native language but teaching was not his forte. I dropped out before three weeks was up to prevent from getting an incomplete (or worse) if I dropped out later.

And that is what led me to post this little note and embed this video. Had Marie Laforet been my French instructor I might be fluent in French today. Or not. Her enthusiasm would have been contagious. And no speech impediment.

Viens, Viens, Marie Laforet

Was It All A Dream?

You Only Live Twice, Nancy Sinatra

You only live twice or so it seems,
One life for yourself and one for your dreams.
You drift through the years and life seems tame,
Till one dream appears and love is its name.

And love is a stranger who'll beckon you on,
Don't think of the danger or the stranger is gone.

This dream is for you, so pay the price.
Make one dream come true, you only live twice.

And love is a stranger who'll beckon you on,
Don't think of the danger or the stranger is gone.

This dream is of you. And I am paying the price.

Fly Me To The Moon

It's been, or will be, eight years, and not a day goes by that I don't think of you. I'm lying here this evening, going through my list of love songs, and I come to this one:

Fly Me to The Moon, Doris DayYou once answered a question I asked you with: "Yes, but not active. I would just like to fall asleep and never wake up."

I thought the same today. I think that a lot.

Not a day goes by that I'm not thinking of you. Nay, not a conscious moment.

Sappy, sentimental, and who cares? 

I bought two more books today: one, the diary of H. L. Mencken, and the other, another biography of Hemingway. Only by reading do I keep me mind off you. Only by reading am I able to keep on. I enjoyed reading to you.

How Can I Go On?

We never listen(ed) to this enough -- perhaps my favorite singer/my favorite song.

How Can I Go On, Freddy Mercury
I have no idea how this happened, and I'm almost embarrassed to admit it, but until 2002 I had never heard of Queen. I may have heard some of their songs, but never knew the band. During the "Queen era" I was stationed overseas and simply missed a lot of good music. But I must have been really in a "bad place" not to have heard Queen.

Then, in 2002, the US Air Force sent me to northern England for a special duty assignment; it was open ended. I did not know how long I would be there. I thought my days of traveling for the Air Force were over; I was never more depressed than that summer when I left for England.

I remember checking into the inn, and turning on the television after a long flight. Wow, there was nothing on. And then, for some reason, there was some celebration, the Queen's birthday? I don't recall, but I heard Queen for the first time and was blown away. I became addicted. I could not get enough of Queen. I did not know the "back story" of Freddy Mercury. It didn't matter.

And then, the more I read about him, the more I knew about him, the more I listened to him, the more I loved Queen.

I was sent back to that remote air station in northern England several times over the course of the next two years or so. I came to love Yorkshire. The trips became life-altering events, a second, maybe my third coming of age.

And now I associate Queen with that time in northern England. 

I could listen to this, over and over, through the night.

You Called It Your Valley

It's interesting how the mind works.

So much I forget. So little I remember.

Cutting your "hedge" so you could see your beautiful valley is something I remember vividly. Four hours out of 60 years of living. Four hours.

Listen to My Heart

I took the blog off-line for a month or so. Things seemed better for a while. I felt better and thought I could take the blog off-line.

But the memories are just too strong. Not a day goes by that I'm not thinking of you.

I Don't Want To Talk About It, Rod Stewart

And so the blog is back up.