This Playlist is dedicated to you

Happy Mother’s Day!

 In My House, Testosterone Rules.       (A Mother’s Day post by Val)

 This color text is as pink as it gets in my house. I’m the mother of four boys. That’s them in the pic above, doing what they love to do when they’re all together, back in town from college and work. They dress up in their too-small childhood jerseys and fleece pants and hurt each other in backyard football games. Inevitably someone comes in limping or gasping in the first 30 min. I’m the one they come to – because I’m cooking mass quantities of food in the kitchen by myself (yea, get out the violin). My reaction to an injury is always the same:  first I yell at them, then I take them to the E.R. But what warms my heart is that they still play together like little kids (they’re 21-26), and that they even want to play together.

The way to their hearts is through their stomachs so my top priorities are Costco & Cooking. As long as good smells are coming from my kitchen I feel good. When it’s 7pm and I haven’t figured out what’s for dinner, I feel like a failure. When they yell “there’s nothing to eat” it’s a stab wound in my heart.  And I’ve gotta admit this happens a lot more lately since I’ve started Valslist…

So this mother’s day I want to honor my boys, because they have to share me with our new baby, Valslist, and with all the artists I mother too. I should just change my name to Mamapalooza, cuz that’s what I am.

My boys are hilarious when together. Like an SNL skit, the play by play banter is quick-witted, often involving sports stats, rappers’ names, and golf metaphors. I rarely know what’s going on, so when I play the ignoramous (ie: ask a simple question) they react with glee. My oldest son did improv in college, and has taught the others well. Whenever we’re in public they’ll fall a few steps behind me and whisper loudly, “is THAT Val of Valslist?!”  and when I’ve talked about work too much they’ll react with “mom, your 5 minutes are up” …  At first I was honestly hurt by this. Why don’t they care? How could they dismiss this fun thing I’m doing?  Then it hit me. Their mom has changed a little bit. She has another interest, another passion. And although they’re excited for me and proud of me, they don’t want this to take me too far away.  I totally get it.

They’re all grown up. They don’t want me by their side. They don’t need constant attention. Of course not. But if they do, they want to know that I’m still there, and not too distracted. I’m the same way with my mom. For my whole entire life, when I call home my mom picks up. It’s been a security blanket to me forever. I love the predictability that she’s there and has the time to talk. That’s what I want to give my kids. It’s what they grew up with when I was a stay at home mom. I was available. I still want to be.

But if you’ve ever been an entrepreneur – or know one – you know that it’s a 24/7 job, the work is never done, there’s always one more email, one more project, one more pitch letter…  It’s insane. And it’s caused me some real angst at times – when I need to choose work over family.  I mother this family. When I’m not around, the front porch lights don’t get turned on. The wet towels pile up. The cupboard goes bare. The fridge turns condiment only. Empty wrappers litter. Dog goes hungry. Sleeping-in takes on new meaning. Doors are wide open. Every light is on. Drawers overflow. Microwave bubbles over. Shoes multiply in the front hall. Laundry sits. Shampoo bottles empty. Toothpaste tubes dry up. Sports gear goes fabreze-less.   … And the boys are happy as clams. They see none of it.  But when I fix it all, something feels better, warmer, calmer, loved. That’s what I do. And that’s what I don’t want to go away.

So for all working moms everywhere – and we’re all working – whether it’s your own biz, or the corporate ladder, or toddlers in your house, or the grown kids who’ve left the nest, or the grown kids who are back – you know how much the little stuff means. It’s all they really want. And sometimes it’s hard to deliver. Maybe we’re tired. Or sad. Or overwhelmed. Or lonely. Or angry. Or sick. Or all the above.

Even when we’re that, we think about you kids.

As our kids grow up, they collect girlfriends, boyfriends, in-laws, kids of their own, and we begin to mother all of them too. We can’t help it. We mother those we care about. With my music business, I find myself mothering my artists too. When they come to my home for a house concert I feed them, let them stay in our basement guest room, I worry when they’re sick and on tour, I pity their late work hours, I listen when it’s tough. But I like to know that I’m a stop along their way where someone truly cares about their well being. I can’t help myself. These kids are working so hard and need some TLC.

So thanks to my four boys for letting me do what I do.

And whatever that is, one thing is for certain ~

Andrew, Peter, Matt & John will always come first.    xo

listen:  MOTHER’S DAY PLAYLIST 

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The SeeShells

By the time we moved to Denver three years later, their headmaster referred to us as if we were a single siamese twin family: Seefrieds+Cashels = Seeshells.

Many of my favorite moments from those years are punctuated by memories of Nicki and Meg  marching around the house shouting “Laughing Disease! Laughing Disease!” or  standing on stepstools stirring their questionable version of “Vegetable Soup” or dramatically wailing in unison as we pulled away from the Cashel’s house for the last time before flying westward.

It’s a rare friendship that stands the test of time and distance; rarer still is a whole family of friendships that lasts. We’re fortunate beyond our wildest dreams to still call these folks best friends, and have an abiding love for Meg, the little girl nicknamed Moo, who once had a pet ghost called Spooky…

Recently I read her college application essay, and  was bowled over by the personal awareness and maturity it belies. They rival that of many, if  not most, 40 year-olds.  So I couldn’t help but ask if I might share her smarts with you, my faithful friends and readers. I hope you’ll be as inspired by her as I was.

Meggie at 4

Driving is our first taste of freedom; the first time that your parents don’t have complete control over you. Getting your permit is like taking those first steps out of the nest, and getting your license is like diving out of the nest head first without looking back. I am an 18-year-old senior, with little hope of obtaining a license. It’s not that I didn’t want my drivers license; I did. I thought driving was just as glamorous as everyone else did. I imagined myself parking at school, driving underclassmen to drama club events and being able to leave my house whenever I wanted. I never imagined, however, that having a learning disability would hold me back from something that seemed like a birthright to teenagers.

When I was diagnosed with my math oriented processing disorder in the 2nd grade, I didn’t think much of it. To be honest, being pulled out of class to go to a smaller room felt like a treat. Growing up, I understood that I would not become a mathematician and allowed myself to be content with my hard earned B’s, accepting what my parents told me: “Your brain just works a little differently Meg!” Throughout my childhood, I yearned to be out of school, where I knew my learning disability would not affect me because I simply would not be taking math classes.

When all my friends started getting their licenses, they urged me to get my permit, saying that I needed to stop being lazy and just go to the DMV. Although I was nervous, I studied and got my permit with ease. When I began driving however, I noticed something strange; the problems I had in math class were surfacing on the road. An intersection looked like a division sign; a stop sign was a hexagon. Other cars were variables, and I had no idea how to solve for them. One day, while attempting to turn out of a parking lot, I simply didn’t process that a car was coming right at me. I felt as though I was taking a math quiz and all of the numbers were swirling around in my head. I did not have my IEP to protect me; I only had my screaming parents, who did not understand why I couldn’t process the cars coming at me, or the tree uncomfortably close to the passenger side of the car.

For most people, driving is the beginning of adulthood, the first glimpse of independence in a teenager’s life. My coming of age ceremony, however, was embodied by the decision not to drive. Realizing that my learning disability will affect my life outside of math class is a daunting concept. Now that I know it will however, I am realizing that it’s ok. Everybody has difficulties to overcome, but I am beginning to understand that who we are in the face of confusion and fear, can shape who we are as people. Not being able to drive for the time being seems trivial, but it made me realize that I had to take responsibility for something that will affect my life both inside the classroom and out. I hope that going forward I can take my disability in stride, and perhaps even one day drive along the freeway listening to my favorite Broadway song, without the feeling of panic I have when I sit down to take a math test.

I can’t explain the scientific reason why, but his music impacted me like a drug. Literally.

It wasn’t the night, it wasn’t my mood, it wasn’t an accident. I’ve seen him live three times and it’s the same each time. And it’s not just me – when you look around the room you can tell it’s happening to the entire audience. I saw an 11 year old with his mom, swaying in a way that 11 year olds don’t do. I saw an older couple so intensely watching together, in a peaceful trance. A table of young twenty somethings sat at their table, focused & still, eyes on the stage for the two hour show. I whispered to Mark, “his music makes me high – what is it?”  I saw a group of high school girls up front – they weren’t acting their age – they acted much older. His music had us in a trance – it was bigger than us.

This is what I do. I write about music, but I write from the front lines. From the fan point of view. I’m in the audience and I observe everything. What are we doing out there in your audience? What’s focusing us? What’s distracting us? How does the artist hook us? I’m like a reporter, or a spy. I’m out in the field, reporting back to you the artist…  As you play your notes, I’m taking mine.

This time it was difficult to break out of the trance to glance away from the stage. But when I did, the chemistry in that room was palpable. His music was in our veins. We were one. And we just wanted more.

The artist was Trevor Hall.

If you’re skeptical, I will quietly offer that you had to be there. I can’t provide a physics equation to support my theory.  It was a spiritual thing.

Trevor Hall, singer/songwriter from South Carolina stepped onto the stage in bare feet, rolled up jeans,  dreadlocked pony tail, beads around his neck, peaceful tattoos and that smile that tells us he’s so happy to be here.  His band members surround him as they look out at us and humbly accept our cheers and shouts of love. Ego and attitude do not exist on his stage, and you’re very aware of that. As we quiet, his eyes close and the music begins.

The vibe is alternative pop rock with an always present reggae / calypso undertone. He takes the various components that make up music including pitch, rhythm, melody, harmony, tempo, loudness, beat, and adds surprises with timbre, tone, key, chords, reverb, timing, intervals, octaves and scale to send an auditory message that feels. so. very. different.  It’s visceral.

But that’s only half of it. It’s the voice. His influences are Bob Dylan, Bob Marley, Ben Harper and Bjork, but he’s found his biggest inspiration through meditation and regular trips to India. His voice is unusual. It’s a blend of spiritual chant, Indian raga, anthemic grooves, soulful praise, with a Matisyahu spin. Yet the gentle melodies are simple – and inclusive – he’s singing to his people.  His depth and passion, far beyond his twenty something years, embrace and comfort you – singing of things bigger than you, more important than your problems. It makes everything okay.

In 10th grade, his music loving parents sent him to California to attend Idyllwild School for the Arts, an international boarding school east of Los Angeles. Trevor says these were some of the best years of his life, studying classical guitar and meeting wonderful people from around the world who greatly influenced his life in a profound way. His greatest lesson there was observing how art spoke to everyone… no matter what race, what faith, or what country you were from. Trevor: “I saw how it brought people together, and that made me feel good.”  Hence his mission now.

He signs his bio:  “Until we meet again…   So much love, Trevor.”      (read bio)

Watch video:  

Trevor’s last 2 shows on this tour:   

Apr 10   Stargazers Theater  - Colorado Springs, CO

May 11  Boulder Theater  - Boulder, CO

Yours,

Val Haller

(founder/owner Valslist.com) 

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SEE BELOW FOR A FEW MORE ARTISTS TO KNOW …

http://dawnyaclarine.bandcamp.com/track/unknown-and-all-alone

Feel free to share with anyone you think may connect with the message.

I had no idea I was doing anything wrong.  I started around age 10. It was fun and socially acceptable; it was the trend, brought people together, a status symbol if you will. So I went along. I wanted it. I valued it. And I didn’t use protection. Most people didn’t back then. It wasn’t really important and we weren’t afraid of the consequences.   Anyway, it would never happen to me…

But it did.

My demon is the sun. I played in it, worshipped it, and it got me. I now regret every minute I spent bathing in it. I wish I had those years back. I would have played differently. I was a swimmer, diver, lifeguard. We grew up with hobie cats, windsurfers, and water skiis. On vacation we unveiled our winter white skin to the blazing sun with a “have at me” attitude and additional accoutrements such as baby oil and reflecting mirrors. If we arrived in Florida and it was cloudy, we drove south til we found the sun. We burned, blistered, and thought a beat red face was beautiful. Why wouldn’t we? The magazine models were bronzed and that was the standard.

Now I’m paying the price. Four years ago the dermatologist found something on my forehead – it had to come off. The scary part was that this large basal cell carcinoma was invisible. I couldn’t see it. It didn’t present in any of the ways we’ve been taught to look for (brown, irregular, pink, scaly, bleeding, changing….)  Nope, not this one. Mine looked like my regular skin, the only difference was it behaved a bit differently. When I scrunched my forehead this circular area the size of a silver dollar didn’t wrinkle like the rest of my forehead. I knew something was wrong. A Mohs surgery and 66 stitches later, the front center of my forehead now has a big scar. I hate the scar but I’m lucky it wasn’t melanoma. I made a promise to myself: no more sun.

I’m writing this from Florida and it’s not easy. It’s awkward to shun something that most others love. I’m odd man out. I dress and act differently now, and I’m not a ‘player’ when a sunny outing is planned. I won’t go to the beach at noon. I won’t sign up for the boat tour. I frantically and frustratingly cover myself on long car rides when the sun is beating in through the window. To others I appear paranoid. But really I’m just not giving in to peer pressure on this one. I’m a sun wimp because I know it could kill me.

So what’s your demon?

Neil Young quietly sings, “oh, the damage done…  a little part of it in everyone…”

What do you do even though you know it’s not good for you?  The music industry and business world are ripe with offerings. Everyone’s a player, right? Demons lurk in every paradise. Many are seemingly benign like late nights, no sleep, no exercise, junk food, excessive travel, work and stress. They’re basically benign until they’re the norm. If you get a warning sign like I did, make a promise to yourself. Crashing isn’t an option.

One of my favorite emerging bands, Minneapolis’ Communist Daughter, is a great example. Frontman Johnny Solomon is a recovering addict. At a house concert in my living room he talked openly about his dance with alcohol and other demons, and why he decided to change. You should see him now. He’s clean, sober, happy, and engaged to his lead singer Molly. Best of all – the band is taking off  fast.  Johnny is another who’d like those years back. But instead he made a promise to his future.

If you’re looking for us I’m the one under the umbrella and Johnny’s the one with the diet coke. We took our warnings as a second chance.      (Listen to Johnny below)

Yours,

Val Haller

(founder/owner Valslist.com) 

7 Artists to Know

(for a quick listen, click on the video samples)

THE ZOLAS   (Canadian progressive rock band)     Listen in iTunes

COMMUNIST DAUGHTER   (Minneapolis indie rock band)     Listen in iTunes

HOSPITALITY  (American indie pop trio from Brooklyn)       Listen in iTunes

MILAGRES   (Indie rock band from Brooklyn)    Listen in iTunes

RAY WYLIE HUBBARD  (American Texas country singer/songwriter)  Listen in iTunes

CIVIL TWILIGHT  (3 piece rock band from Cape Town, S. Africa)     Listen in iTunes

JUSTIN TOWNES EARLE  (Americana musician – son of Steve Earle)   Listen in iTunes

www.valslist.com

A boutique music website that helps busy adults keep up with new music. Effortlessly.

 JUST LISTEN

I have always been into music. I mean, really into music. But I am not a musician, I am a listener. I made playlists long before they were called playlists. At 54 I’m still making playlists; it’s my hobby (and passion) to keep up with new music. But it’s getting more and more difficult for busy adults to keep up with new music. Since the advent of modern catalysts like internet, satellite radio iTunes music store and iPods, many busy adults have simply lost track. So I created a boutique music website www.valslist.com – that’s like a music concierge service – I keep up with the newest artists, and list the best tracks in easy to download playlists. Valslist.com is linked to iTunes so format and price are the same. The only difference is, with Valslist you know WHAT songs to buy. JUST LISTEN.

First, I apologize for the past two weeks of radio silence.
To you who have written wondering why I haven’t posted in a few weeks, let me explain. Well, let me vent. My life has been one big pity party over the past 4 months, as I moved my 89 year old spinster friend into assisted living – by myself.  I’ll probably post about that another time, but suffice it to say it took ALL of my time, ALL of my energy, and a bit of my spirit. For all of you who are going through the same thing, you’re in my thoughts.

One thing has emerged for the better: Valslist.com got a facelift. We’ve been working on it for awhile now, and we’re unveiling our new user-friendly format today.

We had one goal in mind as we tweaked our website:  make it easier to use, get to the music faster, and put the newest stuff first. We hope to deliver.

Let me explain.

You want simple, so do I.  No one has time for a new learning curve or trying to find things on a cluttered website.  So we’re giving you everything  right on the home page. Pick what you want.

Instant info is gratifying. The internet has spoiled us. So Valslist is putting our newest playlist front center on the home page – with a new music player – so you can listen instantly. Run through the songs to see which ones you like.

I hate TMI and I’m assuming you do too. We have a lot of music information, but we don’t want to overwhelm you, so we’re giving you a “taste” of everything on the home page. You’ll see 1 playlist, 1 new album, 1 new artist, 1 music video, 1 blog post by Val.  Basically this week’s music news.

If you like what you hear, then click through to hear more…   We have a lot more of everything – playlists, new artists, new album releases, Val’s blog posts.   If you have the time, we have the music.

We know you’re busy.  But if you have a few minutes each week, you’ll learn a lot!

We don’t try to sell you. We just introduce you to new music and emerging artists that you might not find on your own. From there, you decide.

Valslist has no agenda.  Our goal is to bring artist to fan. But you can help us bring fan to artist – which is equally important – by telling your friends about Valslist and liking us on Facebook.

Valslist.com.  Your music concierge.  JUST LISTEN.

Yours,

Val Haller
(founder/owner Valslist.com)

THIS WEEK’S PLAYLIST:    Face Lift     (listen)

VAL’S BLOG:     Read More…

]]> http://midchix.com/2012/03/26/a-long-awaited-facelift/feed/ 0 http://midchix.com/2012/03/22/signs-of-life/ http://midchix.com/2012/03/22/signs-of-life/#comments Thu, 22 Mar 2012 18:06:48 +0000 Gretchen Seefried http://midchix.com/?p=12678 Last week it dawned on me that  I might actually live. If you read my previous post back towards the end of February, you know that I was in a dark place.  There was too much on my plate in terms of work, stress, obligations, emails, invoices, social media demands and client whims. Coupled with frustration at a calendar ruled by doctors’ and physical therapy appointments and then the sudden loss of my Augie, they had me teetering on the rim of a numb depression.

All I could think to do was cry “Uncle”.  And so began the breather that’s allowing me to imagine taking baby steps back to enthusiasm and engagement.

Four special gals have, perhaps unwittingly, had a hand in my recovery.  The first, I’d intended to write about back in early February, but with my hand still casted, I’d had to hold off. Kate King may be only 27, but she is an old soul.  A Master’s level registered art therapist and psychotherapist, she has warmth and strength that together made me feel incredibly safe and sound.  A session with her led to some intriguing discoveries about myself. Plus staring at these 2 simple drawings done under her gentle guidance has had a hand in reassuring me that eventually I’d find my way back to imagination. I liked her so much, I had my seventh grade son meet her too. He asked if he could see her every week ~ this, the kid who fought us tooth and nail for years over traditional therapy…

My Happy House by a Creek and Apple Tree

Beauty and strength in a coconut tree

Shortly after posting Pity Party Part II, I received another distinct sign that things were going to be alright…not only the literal reminder you can read on the inside of this silver bracelet, but also in the handwritten note that accompanied it when it arrived in my mailbox.  I had recently treated myself to the new birds of a feather pendant made by long-time reader and, master jeweler Sandy Comstock and looked forward to blogging about it.  But then Augie died, and with him my will to do much but weep.

The Bumpy Road

But after Sandy read my post she reached out first by email, and then with the unexpected delivery of this gift, appropriately called The Bumpy Road..delivered to my door.  I’ve been wearing it 24/7, except when I take it off to re-read the inside inscription.. 

After being reminded of internal strength by Kate and reassured of  external compassion by Sandy, meeting Sara Marley  on Monday was kind of like being granted a third wish. Her love of  writing, psychologist’s perspective, and experience counseling women and girls instantly drew me in and then helped me resolve the nagging question that’s had me stymied ~ what to do with MidChix & MadHens?

Sara had written to express her interest in writing about the emotional well-being of women and adolescent girls, and shared this beautiful piece. It’s exactly the kind of story  so many of us yearn to tell and to hear;  the kind of story that makes MidChix & MadHens such a comforting and nourishing destination.

So, though I’ve run out of funding for behind-the-scenes work at M&M, I believe there’s just too much benefit to our readers and writers to let the blog we’ve created simply fade away.  I am envisioning our small blog as a gathering place where we feel safe to share our stories ~ think of it as reading and writing therapy for women and girls.

I’m grateful to contributor Val Haller who has continued to post during my hiatus, and hold out hope that my own return to blogging will inspire our other writers, Donna, Renee, Kathy, Jill, Lise, Michelle, Mel, to begin writing again, while also maybe persuading more of you to consider sharing too.

I’m still working on a plan for a place to offer resources that range from tools and personal safety devices to alternative therapeutic services to help women recover and rediscover  a sense of  ”soundness”, physically, mentally, and emotionally…

There are countless ways of healing, and my sense is that most of them involve creation. Whether through art, music, sand, dance, writing, yoga, meditation, yarn or some other medium, creating offers a powerful instrument for relating, especially when speaking our truth may seem too overwhelming.

I picked up my paintbrush the day after Augie died, and was jolted by the solace I’d forgotten could be found by the simple act of creating. Gracias to Birgit Whitelaw of The Art Connection whose studio workshop afforded me that reminder.

Augie

Making time for making is my motto for now.  May you consider making something this spring too…

Bob Seger:
We’ve Got Tonight (1978)
Buy in iTunes