Tag Archive for: The Beatles

Before the Wishlist. The Beatles! and Tales of Yesteryear

/in /by

By Kay Kendall

Ah, the ease of the online wish list. I battled against
the concept for years. But I finally succumbed. 
What I GAINED: several hours of my precious time. What I LOST: the joy
of watching loved ones delighted by their surprise gifts. If you are a boomer (as I am), then you recall when gift-giving
before the wish list hit the scene. You tried to surprise the gift recipient—to
surprise and delight. My joy of gift giving and wrapping came from my maternal
grandmother who reveled in every aspect of gifting. 

In my boomer youth, I watched her decorate packages imaginatively.
She could have hired on for Neiman Marcus—a store back in the day that did
elegant and fanciful wrapping. (Their efforts today are a sad, pale imitation,
fie!) What my grandmother could not do—not to save her very soul—was to keep
her gifts a secret. She got so excited that she just had to give you
hints–hints so major you could easily figure out what your gifts would turn
out to be. I took such pleasure in her enjoyment that I didn’t mind.

Maybe telling Santa what you wanted for
Christmas grew into the concept of wish lists. Yet today’s wish list has
more power. Woe to you if you give someone under-forty a present not on his or her wish list. I fought against wish lists until a dear friend said she gave up trying to surprise her offspring
with delightful gifts. Finally she switched to the dreaded wish list or gave
gift cards. Otherwise her grandchildren and children were chagrined. That’s how I discovered my offspring was participating in a societal
shift. A generational difference, clear and simple. And so . . . I threw in
the towel. But I remember a different time. I recall a December when
I was a graduating high school senior. I wanted Beatle albums and 45s. When asked
what I wanted for Christmas, “Beatles please” was my instant answer. My ONLY
answer.

Meantime my mother and grandmother were in the
kitchen making cranberry loaves, fudge, and mounds of cookies…all the while
talking about the Christmases of their youths. My mother said she’d been
pleased with mandarin oranges and pecans in the toe of her Christmas
stocking, back in the 1930s. My grandmother recalled helping her mother go into
the farmyard in Ohio and select a goose for neck twisting, in the first decade
of the twentieth century–the holiday meal to be! I loved their quaint tales of
the good old days. (Probably these stories helped grow my lust for history.)

When the morning of December twenty-fifth dawned. I went
into the living room with my parents (I, an only child, admittedly a tiny bit
or more spoiled). I had expected to call this my very own Beatles Christmas.
But no. Arrayed beside the brightly lit tree was a set of three luggage pieces.

“You’re going off to college next year,” Delight shone in
Mother’s eyes. “We knew you needed nice suitcases.” I tried to murmur sincere
thanks while eyeing other presents. Where were the telltale signs of even one
33-long-play album? But John, Paul, George, and Ringo were nowhere to be found.
All was not lost however. My paternal grandparents sent a
check that I promptly cashed and turned into two longed-for Beatles albums.
But, oh, I still recall the rush of emotion, the dramatic
upheaval.

Things are so different now in the high season of gift
giving. Well something’s lost but something’s gained in living every day.
That’s the way the song goes, Joni Mitchell’s beloved “Both Sides Now.”

So then, what’s your opinion of the wish list phenomenon?
What do you remember about gift giving and receiving in the “good old days?”
What’s the routine at your house? I’d sure love to know.

*******
 
 

Meet the author

Kay Kendall is a long-time fan of historical novels and now writes mysteries that capture the spirit and turbulence of the sixties. A reformed PR executive who won international awards for her projects, Kay lives in Texas with her Canadian husband, three house rabbits, and spaniel Wills. Terribly allergic to her bunnies, she loves them anyway! Her book titles show she’s a Bob Dylan buff. In 2015 Rainy Day Women won two Silver Falchion Awards at Killer Nashville. Visit Kay at her website < http://www.austinstarr.com/>or on Facebook < https://www.facebook.com/KayKendallAuthor>



 

Holiday Gift Giving, the Beatles and Joni Mitchell

/in /by
By Kay Kendall

Yes, of course, I admit
to rushing the season. Christmas, Hanukkah, and Kwanza are all more than two
months away and here I am, discussing holiday gifts. Although on the one hand I’m
irked at the Christmas decorations going up so early all around Houston, on the
other hand I shopped online today for gifts. It was such a snap that I bought more than half of my Christmas gifts in less than two hours.

Ah, the ease of the
online wishlist. I have battled against the wishlist concept for several years.
Now I’ve succumbed. I give up. I’m going with the times.


If you happen to be over—let’s
pick a number—forty (as I am), then you recall when things were different. You
tried to surprise the gift recipient—surprise and delight. I picked up my joy of
gift giving and wrapping from my maternal grandmother who reveled in every
aspect of gifting. 

In the decades of my boomer youth, I watched her
decorate packages so imaginatively. She could have hired on for Neiman Marcus—a
store back in the day that did elegant gift wrapping. (Their efforts today are
a sad, pale imitation, fie!) What my grandmother could not do—not to save her
very soul—was to keep her gifts a secret. She got so excited that she just had
to give you hints–hints so major you could easily figure out what
your gifts would turn out to be. I took such pleasure in her enjoyment that I
didn’t mind.

Perhaps the idea of
telling Santa what you wanted for Christmas grew into the concept of wishlists.
But the wishlist of today has more power. Woe be to you if you give your under-forty
offspring something that is not on his or her wishlist. I fought against using
wishlists until a few years ago a dear friend said she had given up trying
to surprise her offspring with delightful gifts. Instead she chose from
the dreaded wishlist or gave gift cards. There was no pleasing her
grandchildren or children otherwise. 

This friend’s example was my first glimmer hinting at a mass societal change. A generational difference, clear and simple. And
that’s when I threw in the towel.

But I remember a different
time. I recall a December when I was a graduating high school senior. How I
wanted several Beatle albums and 45s to add to my collection. When any grownup
relative asked what I wanted for Christmas, “Beatles please” was my instant answer.


Meantime my mother and grandmother
would sit in the kitchen making cranberry loaves, fudge, and mounds of cookies…all the while talking about the Christmases of their youths. My mother said she’d been
pleased with mandarin oranges and pecan nuts in the toe of her Christmas
stocking, back in the 1930s. My grandmother recalled helping her mother go into
the farmyard in Ohio and select a goose for neck twisting, in the first decade
of the twentieth century–the holiday meal to be! I loved their quaint tales of
the good old days. (Probably these stories helped grow my lust for history.)

The following week saw
the morning of December twenty-fifth dawning. I went into the living room with
my parents (I, an only child, admittedly a tiny bit or more spoiled). I had expected
to call this my very own Beatles Christmas. But it was not to be. Arrayed in
front of the brightly lit tree was a set of three luggage pieces.

“You’re going off to
college next year,” Mother explained, delight shining in her eyes. “We knew you
could use some nice suitcases.” I murmured what I hope sounded like a sincere
thanks but kept eyeing other presents, looking for the telltale signs of even
one 33-long-play album lying under the tree branches. But John, Paul, George, and
Ringo were nowhere to be found.  

All was not lost however.
My paternal grandparents sent a check that I promptly cashed and turned into
the longed-for Beatles albums. But, oh, the rush of emotion, up and down, the
dramatic upheaval.

Things are so different
now in the high season of gift giving. Well
something’s lost but something’s gained in living every day. That’s the way
the song goes, Joni Mitchell’s beloved “Both Sides Now.”

So then, what’s your
opinion of the wishlist phenomenon? What do you remember about gift giving and
receiving in the “good old days?” What’s the routine at your house? I’d sure love
to know.

*******
Kay Kendall set her debut novel, Desolation Row—An Austin Starr Mystery,
in 1968, in an anti-war group. The sequel is Rainy
Day Women, set for 2015, and this time her amateur sleuth Austin Starr must
convince police her best friend didn’t murder women’s liberation activists in
Seattle and Vancouver. A fan of historical mysteries, Kay wants to do for the
1960s what novelist Jacqueline Winspear accomplishes for England in the
perilous 1930s–write atmospheric mysteries that capture the spirit of the age.
Kay is also an award-winning international public relations executive who lives
in Texas with her husband, three house rabbits, and spaniel Wills. Terribly
allergic to the bunnies, she loves them anyway! Her book titles show she’s a
Bob Dylan buff too. 
*******

And the Beat Goes On (aka, Our Favorite Music!)

/in /by
Do you have a favorite tune that you can’t get out of your head?  Or a song that reminds you of something from the past?  A beat that, the moment you hear it, makes you get up and dance?  We do!  So we figured we’d share our best “pick-me-up” music with y’all, and see what you recommend.

Maggie:  Every one of my books has a soundtrack but they all have a common thread:  they are danceable.  So, if I’m stuck, I crank up a great dance song (usually Beyonce’s “Green Light”—it starts out “give it to mama,” which makes the kids laugh hysterically) and let my freak flag fly until I get inspiration.

Rhonda (Southern half of Evelyn David):  One of my favorite songs is, “The Water is Wide” by James Taylor. I just think it’s a beautiful song and can listen to it over and over.

Marian (Northern half of Evelyn David):  We’re great writing partners, but unlike Rhonda, I can’t listen to music when I’m working. I find it distracting—and goodness knows, I’m easily distracted and quite prone to procrastination. When I’m not writing, it’s show tunes and classical music that I enjoy and often inspire some great plotting for future mysteries.
Bethany:  Picking out THE ONE most inspiring song is too difficult for my brain – it tries to sort through the entire library of beloved songs all at once and then comes up with the default answer, which is “Maybe I should have some toast.” But one song that I distinctly remember inspiring me is “Love Song” by Sara Bareilles:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qi7Yh16dA0w.  It’s a clever little video and when it was brand new it got a lot of airplay on VH1. Along with the video, they frequently showed interview clips and in one Sara said that the song was actually about her record company who had demanded that she add a love song to album after it was complete. Since I was I was going through a rather difficult list of demands from my editor at the time, I really appreciated her way of giving the record company what they asked for without compromising her own vision. Interestingly, I only saw that interview clip once. Did someone at the record company have it pulled because it was unflattering to them? I’m going with yes.

Additional Bethany Playlist, should anyone be interested:

1.  Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps by Doris Day
2.  Mack the Knife by Bobby Darin
3.  Paint It Black by the Rolling Stones
4.  Paperback Writer by The Beatles
5.  The Rainbow Connection by The Muppets
6.  Mexico by Cake
7.  Rock DJ by Robbie Williams
8.  Paradise by Ana Serrano van der Laan
9.  Volcano by Damian Rice
10. Sour Times by Portishead

Susan:  I always, always turn to Def Leppard when I need a pick-me-up!  One of my favorite tunes of all-time (and I can picture the video with Joe Elliott in his fuzzy bear claw slippers at the end!) is “Armageddon It.” If you have never listened to the song before, you might say, “Whoa, sounds depressing!”  Not.  Think “Are you getting it,” which is really what the song’s about.  Yeah, and “it” can be whatever you want it to be (so far as I’m concerned!).  Just a really fun, fun song that gets me going.

Laura:  “Colour My World” has always brought tears to my eyes and made me… Okay, I just wanted to see if I could make anybody squirm.  Gosh, music. There’s a ton of it, but it’s all definitely mood oriented.  Every book ends up with its own playlist, songs I pick up along the way, some old, some new.  The Avett Brothers’ “Head Full of Doubt” was my anthem going into BEAUTIFUL DISASTER’s publication. Foreigner’s classic, “Jukebox Hero/One Guitar,” is the opening act for my latest effort.  That’s a no-brainer; the main character is a rock star. If a love scene needs more sizzle, I might take a walk, listening to Nickelback’s “Figured You Out.”  It just depends.

Maria:  I don’t write listening to music because I find it too much of a distraction, but I do pretty much everything else to the beat of a tune: brainstorming, showering, walking, housework, driving, you name it. My favorite artists are Rob Thomas, Colbie Caillat, Sara Bareilles, and Adele, to name a few. Right now I can’t get enough of Adele’s latest CD, 12. I think my favorite song from that track is “Turning Tables.” It’s so hauntingly beautiful!

Rachel:  I like “Unwritten” by Natasha Bedingfield. The lyrics appeal to me both as a writer and as a human work in progress. They suggest that a blank page or a new day can become whatever we choose. Everything we try may not work, but either way we can enjoy the freedom and creativity of sculpting what comes next for us.

So we want to know what music gets you up and moving??? 

The Definition of Genius

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There are writers who simply blow me away. Their use of language is so extraordinary that I deliberately read every “a, the, an,” etc.” No speed reading or skimming allowed.

When I read Laura Lippman’s To the Power of Three, I decided that I’d never write another word again. No point. She said it all, and so much better. I felt that way when I read James McBride’s The Color of Water. In both cases, while the story and memoir were compelling, I was dazzled by the imaginative metaphors and similes the authors used. I just knew I’d never be able to replicate that kind of genius.

Those feelings, while understandable, should be transitory. What I should have learned when I read those books was (1) enjoy beauty where you find it, and (2) genius is, as Mr. Edison pointed out, “one percent inspiration and 99 percent perspiration.” I suspect that Ms. Lippman and Mr. McBride sweated bullets over the language that leaves me in awe.

I was prompted down this road of reflection by an interview I recently watched with Malcolm Gladwell, author of The Tipping Point, Blink, and most recently, Outliers: The Story of Success. Gladwell insists that success is never an overnight event, but rather almost always the result of much practice. He uses The Fab Four to illustrate his point. While the media and Ed Sullivan were proclaiming the shaggy foursome from Liverpool overnight sensations, in fact, The Beatles had spent two years as the house band for a strip joint in Hamburg. They played 8-hour sets, 7 days a week. That kind of practice and experience gave them an edge that most garage bands simply don’t have. As Gladwell posits, “no Hamburg, no Beatles.” His take on genius: “Talent is the desire to practice.”

Murder Takes the Cake debuts this month. Both halves of Evelyn David have been up to their collective eyeballs in promotional activities. We’re going to mystery conferences (Malice Domestic and Deadly Ink), speaking in libraries and other venues, appearing for booksignings, blogging, Twittering, Facebook-ing, MySpace-ing…just about everything except actually writing a new mystery. Whenever we start a new project – a book or short story – the first few pages are like pulling teeth. Hard and unpleasant. But once we get into a rhythm of writing every day, the words begin to flow, the ideas flourish.

I wasn’t stirred by Lippman’s or McBride’s promotional efforts. It was their writing that inspired me. I need to get back in the groove again – and that takes practice.

Please share books that inspired you.

Evelyn David