My last concert “in the old world” was Vixen who played at the Monsters of Rock Cruise, while we were sailing back to Miami from having been at sea and in the Caribbean, enjoying life and our beloved rock’n’roll to the fullest.
Without those regular concert-journeys, my life would feel pretty meaningless.
I’m not the only one, there are thousands of us out there in the world.
Live music is our oxygen, our reason for living if you will.
The first sign of something going wrong, was when the Debbie Harry/Chris Stein “In Conversation“-event in Hamburg, Germany on the 7th of March was canceled because of Covid-19.
I didn’t get it at the time. I thought it was just an exaggeration from the media, it wouldn’t be the first time. I laughed about it and went to Hamburg anyway and met up with a friend from a record label – where we both sat across from each other, both coughing, sneezing, feverish, not thinking much of it – cause in the “old world” that was nothing but a common cold or possibly the flu. Who cared?
Shortly thereafter, the world closed down. BAM!
My best friend in Hannover called me one day, extremely upset, telling me to take this seriously and stay indoors. He had seen people dressed like the scientists in E.T, rolling people to an ambulance and it had scared the shit out of him.
I lived in fear for months, because that’s what our media and our governments told us – this is very dangerous, don’t go out.
Don’t meet other people.
Since then, I’ve acquired enough knowledge and information to know how to handle this, and I think that the way it’s being handled – especially the way they’re killing our music – is terrifying. Only those who don’t understand the importance of music would do something like that so casually, like it’s nothing.
Mothers sing to their newborns to form a bond when they rock them to sleep. Children learn skills with the help of music, they can learn how to count, or how to cross the street safely, by singing songs that make it easier to remember those things. Music has saved many from poverty, hopelessness, possibly from living a life in crime.
For many of us, it has given us our identity, our sense of belonging. Without it, we’re lost, cause what ELSE is there out there worth living for? I still don’t know. Seven months of this vacuum has left me feeling like a numb zombie. I work from home, I visit my mother, I go back home. That’s about the extent of the life I’ve lived since March.
My “old life” was ALL about TRAVELING THE WORLD FOR CONCERTS. The reason I had a job was because something had to pay for those trips across the globe. Nothing else mattered.
I was on a constant quest for musical adventures. Bright lights, loud guitars, pumping bass, the collective ecstasy of thousands of screaming fans – where the music united us all.
We could be from different countries and cultures and speak different languages – yet the language of music made us a FAMILY and CLOSE FRIENDS for the hour or hours that our favorite artist or band was on stage charging our inner batteries so we could go on with our “other” lives.
That energy is like charging your cellphone. When you don’t charge it, it fades and locks down until you charge it again. That’s where I feel that I’m at right now.
I am forever grateful to DENMARK for being the first country to find a solution, and making it WORK. Karosserifabrikken in Helsingor, Denmark, arranged a concert with Jesper Binzer from D-A-D on the 21st of August, which was so long-awaited that I could have just cried. It was a small club with a small crowd – but you know what, there’s a charm and an exclusivity that is very appealing with that too.
Shortly thereafter, the owner graciously invited me to an by-invitation-only gig with Danish rock queen Sanne Salomonsen & Electric Guitars band, that had rehearsed for their upcoming tour at Karosserifabrikken and kicked it off with a private dress-rehearsal gig that was kick-ass.
She’s the real deal, she’s been around since as long as I can remember and she still sounds and looks great, still has that organic love for what she does – much like we in the audience have a neverending love for the experience that those on stage bring us.
It’s not “just entertainment”. It’s what we live for. Our everyday jobs are what we live of. There’s a huge difference.
And now, it’s started to move in the right direction in Denmark, concert-wise. D-A-D was supposed to play at Royal Arena in Copenhagen, but for obvious reasons, they had to cancel that…HOWEVER, they didn’t just sit down and sulk.
They announced a series of smaller concerts at the Tivoli, and I just went ahead and got a ticket for two of those. I contemplated going to maybe one more but figured two would be just enough to keep my spirits alive-and-kicking for another while. :)
Following that, is a show with Mike Tramp (ex-White Lion) at the Karosserifabrikken again – which I now see as my “hospital of the soul“. While nurses and doctors are treating Covid-19, these clubs are treating our bruised SOULS. We need both.
But I see little beams of light in Sweden as well. The movie theater Spegeln in Malmo, announced a viewing of the Phil Lynott-documentary, which is as close as we will get to anything music-related in Sweden, so I got a ticket for that. Should be fine, the salon takes 167 people but only allows 50 for that which is safe enough.
And our local rock club, KulturBolaget – KB, which is more than just a club, it’s an INSTITUTION, has tried to survive by streaming live gigs but now they’ve introduced “lounge-concerts”. Seated by a table, and only using a fraction of the premises, but nevertheless, you’ve got to work with what you’ve got. It’s the only way forward and it brought a big smile to my face and such relief cause I was worried that they wouldn’t make it through this.
They’re still hanging in there, and although none of the acts that they’ve announced is “my cup of tea”, I’m thinking maybe I should go anyway just to support the cause. Or else there won’t be any other concerts there ever. This is critical, it’s not the time to be picky – just freaking to to everything, and spend, spend spend for dear life!
Otherwise we’ll all be stuck in our homes for the rest of our lives, “saving our bucks” – for what?
Music has been such a strong force in so many ways, we tried to stop hunger with Live Aid back in the mid-eighties, The Beatles refused to play for a segregated audience forcing the promoters to change the rules which politics couldn’t or wouldn’t have done as quickly, the glam- and disco-era helped the gay community in a way that wouldn’t have been possible any other way, we’ve been there to change the world since rock’n’roll was born. It’s time to help ourselves now, go buy that ticket as if your life depended on it!
Cause maybe it does.
I just read an article about a booking agent who’s been exposed for sexual harassment. The whole world seems to be in a rage because of guys like that.
There used to be a time when nobody would even react to that kind of behavior. A time when that was even considered normal.
When I was thrown into the crazy world of rock’n’roll in the mid- and late eighties, it was a completely different game.
Tour managers and crew guys would pick out girls in the crowd at shows and slap backstage passes on them – because the band would have their fun with them later. The girls thought of that as a sign of approval, not harassment. It was something to brag about. There was no shortage of girls who would line up for that.
The backstage area when bands like Guns n’Roses and Skid Row were on tour, looked like a Kelly Bundy-lookalike contest. Every single one of them wanted to be the Chosen One.
Or at least one of the Chosen Twenty if it was Kiss…
It was such a big part of the scene, nobody even thought of it as being weird in any way.
The videos back in those days always featured tits and ass-girls, trying very hard to be remembered as sex kittens. Metoo? Huh, what the fukh was that??
Then there were girls like me…
I loved EVERYTHING that had to do with the music biz. The only thing I was NOT interested in though, was being a Kelly Bundy-type of gal. I enjoyed dressing like it occasionally, but it was just for “window-shopping”, I wasn’t for sale. I went home alone.
One thing I KNEW after having hung out with the guys in my first band, was that if you slept around (and especially with musicians), you would be branded forever. I remember a female reporter that had given a famous musician a blowjob. After that, the ONLY thing people talked about, was THAT. She was never taken seriously as a reporter again.
If you wanted to be taken seriously, you simply couldn’t afford one single wrong step. Pants stayed ON.
But that doesn’t mean that I didn’t get in many situations that never seemed particularly weird to me, because it was such a normal part of the scene at the time.
One guy, who worked for a super-duper-superstar rock legend (no names will be mentioned here) seemed genuinely nice and had tons of interesting stories to tell about his life working for said star, and also on his own.
He was funny, down to earth, and fascinating. We were a handful of people who had stayed in the hotel bar until 3 or 4 AM and I was so tired but couldn’t drive back to where I was staying cause I had been drinking a bit. So he offered me a bed for the night. In his room of course.
I said I wasn’t that kind of girl.
He said he wasn’t looking for “that kind of girl”. It was just an offer so I could get a few hours of sleep. “There’s an empty bed in my room, you can have that one“.
I went with him to the room, only to find out that the “empty bed” was the other half of his King size bed, and he just shoved all the stuff he had put there, on the floor and offered me a t-shirt to sleep in.
I politely declined the t-shirt and kept my own clothes on and even just slept on top of the blankets and duvets.
And you guessed it. The minute the lights went out, his hands “accidentally” ended up on my side of that bed and eventually where they definitely had no business being.
I jumped out of the bed, realizing that I might have been a bit naive – and left to sleep on a sofa in the lobby. The guy was offended. Apparently, I hadn’t played his game the way he had wanted me to, and he threatened to “punish” me by telling his boss not to talk to me or sign anything.
However, Mr Superstar was very kind and in the end, he even made the guy treat ME like a princess! :D Sweet revenge.
All I had to do was say no. And stick to that no.
There were more situations like that. The tour manager of one of the most famous heavy metal bands on the planet, liked me for whatever reason and showered me with backstage passes.
First, he brought me a guest-pass (I hadn’t even asked for one), then he got me a VIP-laminate and escorted me backstage to meet the band. I was very tired and wasn’t that much of a fan personally, so once the guys in the band started coming in, I didn’t feel like standing in that crowd of fans, so the guy went and led the guys in the band to me, one by one, in some sort of attempt to impress me. It was a bit bizarre.
When they left, he asked what my plans were. I said I was going to drive back home. I had a 3-hour drive ahead. He placed a room key in my hand, told me which hotel they were staying at, and his room number. “You can freshen up there, take a shower before you leave“, he said without waiting for a reply and disappeared.
The idea of going to his room and waiting for him there was ridiculous. That simply was not in MY plans, but here I was – with a room key.
I went to the hotel and left it at the reception desk, telling them which room it was – and left the premises to drive back home.
There were plenty of situations like that.
I had finished an interview with the guitarist and the drummer of another famous band, and during that conversation, the guitarist and I realized that we had a mutual friend.
He hadn’t heard from him for so long and didn’t have his number anymore, but I did. So, I went with him to his room, dialed the number, gave him the handset, and left the room.
He was an absolute class act and always has been. No weirdness, just a really cool dude. He said he would put me on the guestlist for the show. He even called and left a message to confirm.
Well… Once I got there, I had to find the tour manager, who, didn’t have the list at hand, but just assumed that I was the usual…”type”… He said he could help me of course, but stopped for a few seconds, looked me up and down and said: “But what’s in it for me?”
I was pissed. “NOTHING dude“.
He left, thinking that he had punished me by displaying his power.
His long face, when he saw me backstage anyway, was priceless. The guitarist had spotted me and brought me inside. And there was nothing “in it” for anyone, other than good conversation and a few laughs.
And then there was Gene Simmons who I will name because he’s just funny and has the reputation he has, who asked if I wanted to be the mother of his children. I can’t even get mad at that. I took it as a joke and think it was intended as that in some shape or form. :)
The only time I got really furious over actual sexual harassment, was in the crowd at Sweden Rock Festival many, many years ago.
I was watching one of my favorite bands in the world, when some drunk asshole grabbed my tits from behind and refused to let go. I hit him with my elbows, stepped on his toes, fought like a wild cat to get his fucking hands off of me. What the actual f**k?! And in the middle of this struggle, my hero stops the show for a few seconds to point at me and the drunk idiot behind me, and go: “I don’t blame you man, she’s got great tits!” Oh, you did NOT just say that?! Seriously??
Instead of telling that guy to stop, he encouraged it and got the crowd roaring. I refused to go to the band’s shows for a good while after that. At one point, I had to go cause his band was headlining and I knew the opening act, so my boyfriend at the time and I, had been invited to the gig.
Mr superstar-frontman spotted me in the crowd and started interacting in his usual charming way. I was still mad though, who the f**k ARE you, dude? I got over it after a few years, but that was just uncool.
There was the pig who already had a bad reputation, who tried to lure me up to his room by asking me to “help him look for a guitar pick”. He had to go look for himself, I wasn’t going anywhere with him.
Or wives of stars who thought that I had screwed their husbands when I was probably the ONLY person who HADN’T…
Back in those days, you learned that you simply couldn’t apply the rules of the regular world to the world of rock’n’roll.
I hated being mistaken for a groupie, cause I worked hard to make a name for myself as a reporter, not as the chick-of-the-day.
Some gossip-stories that I heard about myself were creative and hilarious, whoever made them up didn’t know the first thing about me and who I really was and still am.
There was no metoo back then. You were on your own. And in some ways, I think we have to take matters in our own hands and be warrior queens to make the changes that need to be made.
First gig since Monsters Of Rock Cruise in February. Jesper Binzer, D-A-D‘s frontman, doing his solo thing with his band at Karosserifabrikken in Helsingor in Denmark.
Man, that was like finding water in Sahara after having walked for miles being thirsty without a drop of water in sight!
It was the perfect way to kick our gig-arses back into gear – Jesper Binzer is one of those artists that is 200% genuine and so living-and-breathing rock’n’roll that you could throw him in someone’s back yard and he would turn it into a party. You simply can’t go wrong with an artist like that. He’s stuck to his guns for decades so I for one forgot that we were at a “Corona-gig”.
It certainly doesn’t suck that he’s also got guitar-wiz Soren Andersen (Glenn Hughes, Mike Tramp e.g) by his side up there, who oozes Rock Star with his guitar-hero moves and strutty attitude.
Kudos also to the light-tech who did a stunning job making the small club feel like Madison Square Garden with the mighty light effects. Even the sound this evening was good – and we were in the front where it usually doesn’t sound that good. So – it was a top-notch gig in every aspect, for a tiny, intimate, seated audience of 85 people, to meet the government live-event restrictions.
It was different, but you know what – everywhere I’ve been in the world does something different. You don’t think much of it, you just follow the crowd, cause at the end of the day, you get your reward – a kick-ass concert. And that’s what you came for, no matter what they ask of you.
Sanitize my hands before entering? No problemo, consider it done!
Sit on a chair that’s separated from others? Hallelujah, at least I don’t have to have a stranger’s elbow poking my ribs. It was great.
I’d also like to mention that the people working at Karosserifabrikken were true music enthusiasts, organizing these gigs even though they operate at a loss. But the show must go on.
We were so well received, with smiles, optimism, and a genuine love for what they do. I went and got drinks at the bar a few times even though I wasn’t really thirsty, but for the sake of supporting the cause.
We’re all in this together.
Right after we came back to the hotel, we bought tickets for Mike Tramp at the same place. Let’s keep this ball rolling!
Here’s from last night – the starting point back to LIFE!
MORC – Day 1:
Took the shuttle from my hotel to the cruise port, sharing with a bunch of people who were going on other cruises.
When we pulled in to pier 29, it was crystal clear which cruise THAT was. :D
People with long, black hair, piercings, tattoos and band t-shirts everywhere…there was no doubt about it. The old folks turned to me going: “There’s your cruise! Looks like fun! We should go on that one!”
The check-in was a dream, I breezed right through. I wish it was like that at the airport! And I was once again reminded that people in the US love my hair…! :D
The staff opened the doors to my deck, said we were welcome to go to our cabins now. Still so breezy I could barely believe it. Last year we had to wait for hours for our cabins to be ready. “My” attendant knocked on the door and was pissed that I was already in the cabin but I told him they actually let us in. He said that the door was open, which means that they are about to clean it. Okay, yell at your colleague who let us in, not me, angry little man.
I took a walk around the ship, met people I knew, just enjoyed the vibe. :) These are my people, this is my music, this is my trip. Soon we will be far away from the real world rockin’ out to our favorite music for days and I love it!
The first band was supposed to be the “secret sail-off band”. I already knew who it was but I wanted some good footage so I stayed – and they were horribly late. Nobody informed us about what was going on, and time just dragged on as if we were waiting for freaking Axl Rose or something. Unfortunately, it killed the vibe. You sail off, the ship starts moving, people waving, the loud horn honks as we’re leaving the port – and you’re in the right mood for some music action! But…there is none.
It got dark before anything happened and by then most people were already at the bar or doing something else. The secret band was a reunited BulletBoys, which to me wasn’t of much interest. I was tired, my party-vibe was gone so I just thought…fuck it. I’m going back to my cabin.
I couldn’t wait to just chill. I had barely taken two steps inside my cabin when the angry little attendant knocked on the door. He didn’t say what he wanted and just almost pushed his way in, going “can I come in?“.
It was so creepy. I got scared to be honest. He had already cleaned the room so what was he doing in here now? It was dark outside and there had been no people in the corridor, so it felt quite uncomfortable, to say the least.
“I’ll make your bed comfortable!” he said and pulled out the tucked in corners. I was still standing there wondering WTF?
He finally left with a fake smile and handed me his business card.
I’m one of those weird people who considers a hotel room or a cabin my home away from home, and as such, I value ONE thing, and one thing only – and that’s my privacy.
I hate people coming in when I have my private belongings in the room, I hate people knocking on the door when I want to sleep or when I just want to be left alone. So this morning I put the “DO NOT DISTURB“-sign on the door and that’s staying there for the rest of the cruise. The annoying little man better not try to talk to me for the rest of this journey, and he better stay out of my cabin too unless I need toilet paper or whatever. Geez. They want their tips, but that was a very blunt way to go about it.
Anyway, today will be a busy day. :) Joel Hoekstra, Rick Allen, Y&T documentary movie on pool deck and then the band starts playing right after.
British Lion w Steve Harris. “Photo experience” with Steve Harris. The Atomic Punks. Doro. And I have to see Paradise Kitty of course lol!
My PT would have been proud of me by the way, I took the stairs from the 4th floor up to 11th yesterday and decided I won’t take the elevator on this cruise unless I’m in a hurry. So I did the same this morning when I went for breakfast. Stairs.
Been eating healthy too. Salad, veggies and a chickpea Indian stew yesterday, scrambled eggs and oatmeal for breakfast… I’m doing okay so far! :D
We’re in the middle of nowhere, just ocean everywhere I look. This is relaxation alright! <3
My dear friend Clint, down in Melbourne Australia, recommended me to read the HEART biography “Kicking and Dreaming: A Story of Heart, Soul, and Rock and Roll“.
He reads rock-biographies and what he liked about this one was that it was told from a female perspective, which was different and interesting. It just highlighted a different aspect of being a musician – with your balls placed slightly higher up.
It took me a while, but I finally got around to reading it. Or rather, listening to it, as I’ve become obsessed with audio-books. It really had me spellbound pretty quickly. It’s very rare to come across a story where I feel like I could have written big chunks of that story myself.
Listening to Ann Wilson, the undisputed goddess of rock vocalists, telling her story about her constant battle with her weight while growing up, the bullying in school, feeling like you never quite belong anywhere, and the escape into the magical world of music…. I did that – all the time.
I would lock my door and listen to old vinyls that one of my mother’s best friends had given her, cause they didn’t want them anymore, LP’s with Ike and Tina or my favorite, an Australian band called Walrus – or colorful vinyl singles from my grandfather who had worked at a jukebox factory.
When the songs fell off the charts, the jukeboxes had to be “refilled”, so the old singles were thrown away and filled up with new, fresh hits. So, instead of throwing them away, he would take some of those singles and bring them home.
My mom had a portable record player that looked like a tiny suitcase, so I inherited that, and listened to those old, scratchy Brenda Lee and Connie Frances-singles.
They were worn out, cause they had been played all day long for months in that jukebox and weren’t really supposed to be used ever again. I wouldn’t let them retire though, I loved “Dum-Dum” by Brenda Lee especially when I was a little girl.
Anyway, music was ALWAYS my escape. So to hear one of the Wilson sisters talking about growing up with similar thoughts and experiences really hit home with me.
Their story of how they discovered The Beatles. How it was like being hit by lightning, how life was defined as before and after The Beatles. I can barely even remember a time before the Beatles, but I grew up two decades after the Wilson sisters. I loved the Beatles more than life itself, I can’t even explain that feeling. I still get in touch with that feeling nowadays, going to see Paul McCartney in concert.
But one thing definitely also sounded VERY familiar to me. Not quite belonging in a group of other girls. I honestly felt like I didn’t belong with other girls my age, most of my teenage years. Because most girls didn’t care about music on the same level as I did. To me it wasn’t just entertainment, it was everything. It was life. It was…well, it was ME. I can’t even imagine an existence without music.
I didn’t care about chasing guys, I rather wanted to be one of the guys – cause they had the same interests as me – for the most part.
I wasn’t interested in fashion and makeup or going to the latest, coolest clubs. I honestly didn’t give a flying patootie about any of that.
Beatles was the most powerful experience I had had up until I discovered Judas Priest, but that’s a different story. There was a short period of worshipping Duran Duran too – but the one thing that the Wilsons brought up in their bio, is a detail I never really thought about, but it’s very true: Other girls wanted to be somebody’s girlfriend. Live someone else’s life, support their boyfriends in their dreams and goals, but they didn’t have too many of their own.
I didn’t want to be someone’s girlfriend. Don’t get me wrong, I was usually head over heels crazy about some dude – or cried over one – most of my life. But I would never ever allow anyone to get in the way of my dreams. I had lots of them and I pursued them. I ended up staying single for longer than I thought because of it. :)
Ann and Nancy were outcasts who found that playing and singing was like “coming home”, it brought them happiness and a sense of purpose. This must have been especially difficult in the sixties and seventies when women definitely weren’t expected to have a mind of their own.
That’s another thing. I will forever be grateful to my parents for never ever uttering the words: “That’s not for girls” – or have strong opinions about what was supposedly male or female.
They let me do whatever made me happy. If I wanted to race guys down the street on a bicycle, that was fine. If I wanted to climb trees, no problemo. Play cowboys and indians, play with toy cars, listen to rock’n’roll? No problem, what would you like to do today?
The toy stores weren’t as divided into girls and boys back in those days either, thank god.
As a kid I was convinced that I could do anything, that there were no boundaries. So, when I walked into a toy store I was not presented any predefined ideas of who I was supposed to be. I would just go and pick out what I thought look like fun – so one day it might have been a Barbie doll and the next it was a super hero.
So I wasn’t raised to be that coquette girlie-girl. I had other dreams and plans, but it also meant that I was lonely a lot of the time, because most friends couldn’t relate.
To hear two women who have been highly successful, talk about going through all these things, but in their own way, is such an amazing feeling. It means more than I thought to hear that, after all these years. You don’t think much of it, until one day you’re reminded and you realize that you weren’t the only one.
I read Lita Ford’s biography too but I couldn’t relate to her life at all. She was more wild and destructive in many ways, she didn’t seem to have particularly strict parents like I did (and the Wilson sisters) so it wasn’t “my story”. This, however, is – in many ways.
They didn’t want to be girlfriends, wives or groupies. They wanted to BE The Beatles, they wanted to play like John and Paul, not date them. Bingo. That’s exactly it!
I used to be accused of being a groupie for years, cause people didn’t know what to make of me. I was always backstage somewhere or hanging out with some rockstar with a bad reputation – so naturally they took to the only explanation they knew of. A whore. A wannabe. A groupie. It took me almost two decades to earn the respect that I feel that I have nowadays. People know my deal now. Well, better than they did back then at least.
Ann and Nancy talk about their experiences of being the women in the band, life on the road, life in those circles. I didn’t experience it on their level, but yeah, I know what that is like as well. Being that ONE girl, that ONE woman in a male-dominated world.
I never thought of it that way though. I didn’t think of it as not fitting in, cause in my mind it was quite the contrary.
I had the same blunt sense of humor as the dudes, I had the same drive – sometimes even more – as they did, I was pushy and determined, like they were. I shared their passion for music, I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
But one thing that I’ve experienced my whole life, is that feeling of being different and sometimes being misunderstood or wrongly labeled.
I wrote a blog many years ago – before the term existed. I called it “diary”. I wanted to explain why I could never be a groupie.
To me, music was WAY bigger than the guy.
I admired them tremendously for the music they wrote, which to me almost made them GODS. They were above regular people. Anyone who could create something that amazing, was not of this world.
So, to sleep with these guys, would just degrade them (in my opinion) and make them common, regular..men. It would transform them into regular dudes with a dick, something trivial, something boring, something way too…. cheap.
What I wanted was their time, I wanted to know what drove them, what or who created the person who could write such music, I wanted to understand their magic, their treasure, their “divinity”.
I could never have slept with any of them. I just didn’t perceive them that way. They were beyond common sex. A monkey can have sex. But a monkey can’t write “Yesterday”…
It was far more valuable to me to understand these musicians, because I wanted to be where they were, being successful in doing what they loved to do and were good at. I had zero interest in being the whore of the evening.
Listening to “Kicking and Dreaming: A Story of Heart, Soul, and Rock and Roll” brings up so many memories and so many thoughts and reflections of my own journey. Sometimes it feels like it wasn’t even me.
I’ve lived the way I wanted to live but everything comes at a price. I didn’t marry or have kids. And quite honestly, I don’t regret a single thing. I would do it all again, exactly the same way. Maybe with a few alterations…
Men usually equaled heartache and pain, a waste of energy while my work, my passions and my dreams, fulfilled me. Much like men often prioritize.
I still have lots of things to do, I still love music and the whole world surrounding it, with every fiber of my body, mind, heart, and soul.
So this biography isn’t as much about the life of the Wilson sisters, but also a mirror that allows me to discover myself and see my own life in a different light.
There were others that went through similar things and thought similar thoughts. It means a great deal to realize that this late in life. :) But it all makes sense.
The pieces of the puzzle are falling into place. :D