There Are No Roads That Do Not Bend

There Are No Roads That Do Not Bend

As I watch the leaves fall to the ground, I am reminded of my first years in Vermont back in the seventies. Coming from New York City it was a magical transition. From concrete and brick to buds and bulbs. I had actually never seen a tree bud into leaf when I was a kid in Brooklyn. Until Vermont. I swore I’d never go back to a big city again. But, life has a way of changing our plans. I wound up in San Diego, yes a big city, for many years. Now that I’m back in Vermont, I again glory in the beauty of nature and wildlife. This time, I’m sure I won’t leave.

I wanted to share a song that seems fitting to the environment . . . and the times we’re living in. The singer-songwriter is long gone and unfortunately I only became familiar with her recently. I hope you enjoy. Stay safe and well!

The Times We’re Living In by Kate Wolf

Down by the river the water’s runnin’ low
As I wander underneath the trees
In the park outside of town
The leaves turned brown and yellow now
Are falling on the ground

Remembering the way you felt
Beside me here when love was new
That feeling’s just grown stronger
Since I fell in love with you

Now we’ve only got these times we’re living in
We’ve only got these times we’re living in

Winter wood piled on the porch
Walnuts scattered on the ground
And wood smoke risin’ to the sky
An old man comes home from work
And he hugs his wife in a sweat-stained shirt
Walks through that door to
Where it’s warm inside

And I’m walking as the wind
Rustles in the fallen leaves
My footsteps picking out a tune
My heart sings silently

Now we’ve only got these times we’re living in
We’ve only got these times we’re living in

See the roses dried and faded
The tall trees carved and painted
With long forgotten lovers’ names
Old cars standing empty
And dogs barking at me
As I walk through the quiet streets the same

If I could I’d tell you now
There are no roads that do not bend
And the days like flowers bloom and fade
And they do not come again

Now we’ve only got these times we’re living in
We’ve only got these times we’re living in

Music Stirs the Soul of a Novel

Music Stirs the Soul of a Novel

As I write this, I’m listening to Antonio Vivaldi’s “Violin Concerto for Violin, Strings and Continuo.”  I have a hard time writing to music with lyrics – the words tend to wind up on my page — so I opt for background music, usually classical.

Music is a terrific way to bring your characters to life.  Let’s take a peek at a fictional guy, Ray Salvo.  He’s eighty-five, fought in two wars, a widower with four kids, nine grandkids and two great grandkids.

Ray’s at home now, a small craftsman in southern California, dusty, threadbare, mostly because he can’t see well enough to care.  He’s alone, as he often is.  How can we paint a more vivid picture of Ray?  Use music.

He rises stiffly from his old recliner, ambles to the record player, an old Kenwood turntable, and his large assortment of record albums.  His kids want to get him a CD player, his grandkids, an iPod.  He’ll stick with vinyl.  As he sorts through his albums, memories blow in and out of his mind.  Is he thinking of his dead wife?  Good place for a flashback.

The albums are sorted by date, decade, actually.  The 30 and 40s, when Ray was a kid, he was one of the lucky ones to have a radio. The sweet sounds of Benny Goodman and Tommy Dorsey.   Maybe Ray’s picturing his old family home in his mind?

The 50s.  Elvis and Buddy Holly.  The Isley Brothers, twistin’ and shoutin’.  Ray picks up a photograph of his wife – ahh, she could dance the lindy.

The 70s brought the Disco craze:  Bee Gees, Gloria Gaynor and the Village People.  Ray gives a few hip lurches as he hums “Y.M.C.A.”   Ouch.  He remembers watching Saturday Night Fever with his kids.

He flips some more.  Classical albums: Ravel’s “Bolero,” hmmm.  “Scheherazade,” by Rimsky-Korsakoff.  Mozart, not his favorite, actually.  He loves the Russian composers better.  But classical is not the choice for today.  Too maudlin.  Good opportunity for description here.  Maybe Ray’s worried about his finances, his son’s cancer?

He smiles when he gets to some newer recordings stacked on a side table — CDs that his grandkids have given him, in hopes he’ll upgrade from his turntable.  He reads a jewel case label: “Radioactive” by Imagine Dragons.  Or is it “Imagine Dragons” by Radioactive?  Argh.  Now he really feels old.

Which record will it be?  This is the defining moment for the character.  Is he locked in the nostalgic 40s? 50’s?  What does he want to listen to?  What is he thinking about, what is his mood?

Ray flips back to earlier albums and after a few seconds finds exactly what he’s looking for.  Not swing or jazz or blues.  His fingers grasp the music he loves best.  Classic Rock.  The Rolling Stones.  Yea.  Now, he can get some satisfaction.   So can you.  You have a better handle on this character, just through his music.

Ideas welcome.