#trishaleonemusic

[songgypsy]

Postcards From the Past 

by Trisha Leone

Little did I know when I started this project that one little picture had so many stories to tell. It’s true that a picture that paints a thousand words, but in reality, a thousand words barely scratch the surface and even with so many words it can be hard to find the right ones. Though a photo may capture a solitary moment in time, it’s the details that tell another story. It’s the t-shirt I was wearing—I remember when I got it, it said Winter Park and I loved how the silver snowflakes sparkled against the black fabric. It was the car in the background—a Thunderbird that we got from your grandparents that barely fit into the garage. One time when I was backing it out it slipped on a mound of ice created from snow melting off the roof and put a dent in the side. It’s looking into the eyes of someone else and seeing yourself— a key that fits into a tiny lock somewhere deep in your soul. It’s the crooked smile, the innocent glance, the band on the stage, the dog in the yard, the address of the house. Layers of story upon story, all in one photograph. And to think we have an infinite number of these moments every single day of our lives. 

If nothing else, through the words of a song, I have told one truth of thousands, a pinhole view of a bigger picture. Postcards From the Past is a project that could go on forever. Maybe it made a difference in someone’s life, or maybe not. Either way, it has been worth every effort—digging through boxes of pictures, trying to come up with fresh chord progressions so that the songs didn’t sound the same, and spending more than I make to record the project. If there ever was a labor of love, this is it. But there has definitely been something for me in all of it. Last December I decided I didn’t want to play, write, or perform music anymore. I was frustrated, discouraged, tired, and burnt out, so I quit, again. In January, Minton Sparks and Jane House challenged me to go on a quest through writing and yoga and to discover the stories my body held deep inside. The stories took me back to my first love, music. Writing songs makes me feel alive. Committing myself to this soul quest gave me a vision and a purpose and kept me moving forward. I will always write songs, it’s not something I can quit, I am the song. This has been a life-changing year for me. I have discovered that everything I need or want is inside of me. And Melea, you were right, I now have a body of work to show for the last twelve months. So now, here I am again, another year ahead of me—12 months, 52 weeks, 365 days. I don’t know the details of my new quest yet but I already have the titles to three new songs. 

Song Lyrics

Postcard from the Past

by Trisha Leone

I was looking through some pictures

and I found one of you 

I held it in my hands 

Searched for a clue 

I looked deep in your eyes 

And wondered what you were thinking 

There were so many things

You didn’t know back then 

It was a postcard from the past

Delivered from a box of memories 

Telling me a story 

that I hadn’t heard before Dm 

The picture painted a thousand words 

But still they weren’ enough

To describe everything I was seeing 

So much love and truth, soul and heart 

In one old photograph 

The picture held the key

To a treasure chest of memories 

A silver thread of truth 

Connecting you to me 

For a moment time stood still 

And I saw you 

Like I’ve never seen 

You before 

Chorus

If I sent you a postcard 

What would it say 

Would I be wearing the earrings 

You sent me for my birthday 

Would I be laughing 

Or fighting back the tears 

And if you looked long and hard enough 

Would you see yourself in me 

[songgypsy]

Love Plus One

by Trisha Sandora

I saw him in December. He was holding a beer in each hand at his cousin’s wedding. Hanging with the guys while all the girls checked him out. Weddings are great for bringing the family together and seeing how everyone has grown up while we were all living our lives in faraway places. He’s a star college football player. Last week he caught an interception. I know that because I was with my sister in Georgia. He was playing in Missouri and she was keeping track of the stats on her phone. I thought she would be sad that she was missing the game, but she surprised me when she said it was a lot less stressful to cheer him on from a distance. I love it when moments of truth pop out from nowhere. 

With his good looks, sense of humor, and easy smile he could easily have any girl he wanted. However, there’s a catch, he has older sisters. I could stop there, but not really. These older sisters are tougher than most and they aren’t about to let just any girl waltz up and take a seat next to their brother—especially gold-diggers, slackers, or thin-skinned beauty queens who are afraid to break a nail. There are tests that must be passed. Tests that require things like crawling under barbed-wire fences, riding a cantankerous mule, or coon hunting in freezing weather into the early morning hours—just everyday skills that any girl worth her salt would have. And for anyone who can pass these quality-control checkpoints his sisters have set up, there’s still something more.

Any girl who falls in love with this special guy will never have his whole heart. It’s already taken by someone he’s known since the day he was born. He has been by her side his entire life. He took her to prom, she’s on the sidelines at all of his games, she’s his date at the movies, and nothing will ever come between them. He’s got her back and she has his. She has now grown into a beautiful woman that possesses something so valuable that no other woman, no matter how pretty or kind or loving will ever have—she has an extra chromosome.

She will always be his first love. She’s the light in his eyes and the fire in his heart. To love him, you must love her, for they share the same heart and soul, brother and sister, best friends forever.

Song Lyrics

Love Plus One  

by Trisha Leone

I saw him in December 

Standing with a group of friends

Laughing and drinking a beer 

Swapping stories about a long weekend    

He smiled at some girls in the corner

But he was keeping his eye on one 

Who was out on the dance floor 

Twirling around having fun

CHORUS

He’s already taken 

By a girl he’s always known

She’s the light in his eyes 

and the fire deep in his heart 

What they have together 

Is unbreakable and strong 

It’s a love plus one, a love that’s their own 

It’s a love plus one chromosome

She stands on the sidelines, 

At his college football games 

He hears her voice in the crowd 

When she yells out his name 

And though the world is knocking at his door  

It will just have to wait

She’s counting on him 

And he knows he can’t be late 

Hand in hand they’re showing the world a different kind of love 

Everyone’s watching and nothing can stop them 

Cause they’ve got a love plus one 

[songgypsy]

Skeletons in the Closet

by Trisha Leone

My ancestors have a few skeletons in the closet. At least that’s what my mom says. She’s been tracking down our family history for several years now and almost every day she discovers something new—a horse thief, gamblers, drunks, men and women who had affairs, and there are others—secrets and black sheep we don't talk about. A new second cousin just showed up, the results of a passionate moment between two people long ago—a moment long forgotten by one, but never forgotten by the other. Time has a way of digging the past back up, one way or another. 

I’ll admit, I have a few skeletons of my own. My skeletons, the ones I’ve locked up in a tiny closet in the back of my mind, like to pick the lock every now and then and have a little fun at my expense. They aren’t quiet about it either, their bones start rattling, causing a disturbance in my peaceful existence where everything looks good and life is picture-perfect—talk about party crashers.

They laugh, tell jokes about the time I had too much to drink at a high school party in the woods and made a complete fool of myself in front of the cool upperclassmen. One of the skeletons parades around the room wearing a ring made out of a horseshoe nail, acting like it’s a diamond. It’s a ring I stole when I was 13, but here it is again. They can go on for hours raking their bony fingers through my past. I used to try to slam the door shut and cover my ears. But now when I hear them coming I grab a few extra chairs and set the table, after all, they’re family. They’re what makes me human. Those skeletons are my bones. They’re my flesh and blood. The no-so-pretty parts of my past. The things I wouldn’t put on Facebook. The times I lied, cheated, and stole, trying to fit-in or get an edge. The things I did to be accepted or gain approval. They aren’t moments that I’m proud of, but they’re part of my story. Choices that I made all by myself. It’s too late for me to go back and fix my past. It was too late, the moment I made the decisions. I always wanted to be perfect, but I’m not—and I have a few skeletons who would love to tell you all about it.

Song Lyrics

Skeletons in the Closet

by Trisha Leone

I stole a ring made out of a horseshoe nail

Slipped it in my pocket and swore I’d never tell

I snuck out the window in the middle of the night

Met a boy who was waiting out in the moonlight

You’d never know by looking at me

That I have a few secrets way down deep

You won’t see them on my Facebook page

Where my life is picture-perfect

But I’ve got skeletons in my closet

and they’ve picked the lock again

laughing and having a good time all at my expense

They make enough noise to raise the dead

Rattle their bones in my aching head

They parade my sins around the room and tell it just like it was

Yeah, I’ve made a few mistakes along the way

Those old skeletons sure have a lot to say

They remember every lie I told

Even the one about the window I broke

And the times I drank too much and got sick

And said things I wish I could forget

I’d love to change some things back then

But it’s too late now to make amends

Oh I’m so far from perfect

And I’ve got skeletons to prove it

Those skeletons in my closet

They’ve picked the lock again

laughing and having a good time all at my expense

They make enough noise to raise the dead

Rattle their bones in my aching head

They parade my sins around the room and tell it like it was

Yeah, I’ve made a few mistakes along the way

These skeletons sure have a lot to say

[songgypsy]

Little Things

by Trisha Leone

My great-grandmother had an eye for detail. She noticed. She noticed the world around her. She painted what she saw on the inside of clamshells, on a tiny painting in a dollhouse, inside an elaborately decorated eggshell, or on the edge of china plates. She would mix her paints on a palette until she matched the colors of the sky, the clouds, the green blades of grass, and the dark ocean waves. She took time to notice the details, to lay in the grass and see the tiny flowers, remarking how happy they were—and then she would paint them. 

I thought of her this morning when I reached for the latch to open the gate and a beautiful, blood-orange Mexican sunflower grabbed my attention as if it were saying, “Hello, good morning.” The petals looked like velvet and the inside had tiny little yellow flowers that would later let the hummingbirds know there was sweet nectar for them today, a gift of food, of life, of beauty. There are amazing things happening all around us, every minute, every second of the day. Trees, flowers, our pets, birds, and people all trying to communicate with us—we just have to stop and notice.

My great-grandmother knew a secret. It’s the little things that matter, the details. Perhaps it was the times she lived in. Her mother died when she was six and her father died when she was eleven. After that she and her sister went from family to family, never finding a home of their own. At twenty-one, she married and wrote in her journal. “I really don’t know how a girl could be 21 years old and know as little about life as I did, or the best way to live it. All I knew was to do just what came naturally, and I guess that one factor in my life was that I was truly ignorant of problems to be faced, so therefore could be very happy living in a dream world. I had much to learn - we didn’t have the conveniences of today, and looking back, I don’t see how were managed. However, as I had nothing to start with, I surely had nothing to lose.”

I can’t help but think that noticing the tiny things is where she found her joy and hope, and how she survived the many hardships of her life including the years of the depression. She sought out the gifts each day had to offer. And she spent her time creating beauty with her hands—making dolls, hand sewing tiny stitches for their clothes, stringing beads, and painting until her hands could no longer hold a paintbrush. She died at 97. But during her time on this earth, she shared the secret to life. It’s in the little things. All you have to do is notice them and they will give their treasures freely. The trees, the desert, the grass, the clouds, they all have something to say about life and death. She once told my older sister that the stars in the sky were the spirits of all the people that loved her. If everyone on this earth knew they were loved that much it would be a different world.

Song Lyrics

The Little Things

There’s a secret, that I know

I heard it a long long time ago

She whispered it softly in my ear

When I close my eyes it’s oh so clear

Lying in the grass, she winked at me

She said, “It’s the little things that make life sweet.”

A drop of dew on a blade of grass

Reflecting the sky like a piece of glass

On the velvet moss beneath the leaves

A tiny snail sits on a pillow of green

And in the twisted branches of a live oak tree

There’s a message of hope for you and me

CHORUS

When life gets hard, take a look around

There’s beauty and life right where you are

A little everyday magic that will help you see

It’s the little things that make life sweet

It’s the little things that make life sweet

It’s the morning sun painting the sky

And the moonlight shining on the snow at night

The shades of blue in an ocean wave

The seeds of a flower the wind carries away 

The layers of time etched in a stone

The bark of a tree that feeds its own

When life gets hard, take a look around

There’s beauty and life right where you are

A little everyday magic that will help you see

It’s the little things that make life sweet

It’s the little things that make life sweet

[songgypsy]

The Tin Man & The Indian

by Trisha Leone

You wore black and white saddle shoes. They were the finishing touch on your Halloween costume, and they couldn’t have been more perfect. Every tin man should have a pair. Your costume took several days to put together. The kitchen table was covered with newspaper and glue, as each piece of armor was formed in layers and carefully shaped to fit around your torso, legs, and arms, including a hat that looked like a helmet. Everything was spray-painted silver, and when you put it on, we all stood in awe at the paper-mâché work of art. Your smile said it all, so proud, so happy with the new version of yourself. Blue eyes, rosy cheeks, and a heart bigger than the state of California—there was never a more beautiful tin man.

Your partner in crime, and trick or treating wasn’t a lion or a scarecrow. It was an Indian in baggy pants with a feathered headband and war paint. With bags in hand, they eagerly pranced out into the neighborhood. The first stop was on Sandhurst Avenue, Grandma’s house, for a picture, and of course a handful of goodies. From there they went door to door filling their bags with candy, always on the lookout for the apple with a razor blade hidden inside or any of the other evil tricks they had been warned about.

Side by side, the tin man and the Indian traveled through the ups and downs of childhood, then adolescence, into adulthood—Irish twins, born less than a year apart. Underwater races in the pool, backpacking for miles with blisters on their feet, rollerskating on the boardwalk along the beach, chasing boys, and working on their tans—two American girls traveled on a yellow brick road that went on forever.

There was never a doubt that the tin man had a heart, and it wasn’t just an ordinary heart, like the one you might find at the grocery store checkout line on Valentine’s Day. The tin man’s heart was like no other. It was resilient, able to handle things that would have crushed smaller hearts. When it was wounded, it didn’t get weaker but only stronger. The Indian was reckless with her heart, and sneaky too. She knew how to break the rules and not get caught. She even used the tin man as a shield more than once. But no matter what the Indian did, the tin man stayed true and held the line. Her beauty is a shining armor that glimmers in the sun. If you are lucky enough to call her mom, sister, daughter, grandma, wife, or friend, then you know how strong her love is, and how the heart of one tin man can hold enough love for everyone.

The Tin Man - Song Lyrics

She had a smile from ear to ear                                                                 Standing tall in her black and white saddle shoes                                       Specks of silver paint in her hair                                                                       And a sparkle in her baby blues                                                                         And while the kitchen table was still covered in glue                                         She had become someone new

She was a paper-mâché work of art                                                             Looked like she walked right out of a storybook                                                   In a California suburb on a Halloween night                                                      She made her way through the neighborhood                                                      A tiny tin man with an oversized heart                                                            Who’d give you the world if she could

Chorus                                                                                                               And everybody knows how the story goes                                                          How what we don’t have, is what we want most                                              And we spend our time chasing something we had all along                           Searching for love, coming up empty-handed                                                   Missing the one who’s standing right beside us                                                           If our hearts had eyes we’d see, that love is all we need                                  And there’s a tin man out there who keeps me believing

In fairy tales and childhood dreams                                                                    You can be anything that you want to be                                                              There’s a yellow brick road that leads                                                                       To all the faraway places you want to see                                                    Everyone has a heart that beats                                                                          Just because you can see it doesn’t mean anything

That costume is long gone, but I’ll never forget that night                              When the great big heart of one little girl made a tin man come to life

[songgypsy]

Love Grows On

by Trisha Leone

For a lot of us, when a relationship ends, we write it off as a mistake. We blame, we regret, and we try to forget and move on,  Like an earthquake, the repercussions radiate through family members and it changes our perceptions of what we think love is or isn’t, and what we think it should or shouldn’t be. We tell ourselves stories of what went wrong and lose sight of all the things that went right. Every relationship has gifts, some are easy to name, such as children, and others unseen, something we learned about ourselves. Relationships change us. It’s part of our history, the story of a family, a story that matters, to us, our children, and our grandchildren.

It was my first year of college and I was on Christmas break, still grieving the November death of a close childhood friend. Some friends and I went out to a country bar in Boulder to dance. I was only 17, so it had to be a 3.2 bar. I think I must have had a fake ID that said I was 18. That was in the days of Urban Cowboy when it wasn’t hard to find a place with a country band. I loved to dance, I still do, although these days it’s usually to a rock or blues band. He wore a silver belly cowboy hat and drove a rental car with Arizona plates because he had just rolled his truck. We danced. I dropped out of college. A few months later, he bought me a young sorrel horse named Dan, moved up to the mountains, and hired on at Drowsy Water Ranch as a wrangler. He needed a red checked shirt for the square dance on Friday nights. I sewed one for him with a solid red yoke and cuffs and pearl snaps. I made myself one to match, and then made two more for Randy Sue and Ken Fosha’s little boys. We listened to Chris LeDoux, and the Starlight Ramblers, Hoyt Axton, and Don Williams, and dreamed in western color. There were always horses and dogs. After Dan, there was Credit, Susie, Smokie, Guy, Money, Buster, Chex, Barney, a dozen rodeo broncs and several others I don’t remember. He wanted to be a cowboy. I wanted to be a mom. We both got our wish.

There was cancer, twice. A fall from a ladder, which resulted in a helicopter ride to Denver and a black and blue appearance at his dad’s funeral. Lots of rodeo runs, riding saddle-broncs, roping and wrestling steers. He hit the dirt and got back on, gambled with fate, and was never afraid to bet it all. Days turned into months and then to years—five, ten, twenty. There was love, happiness, joy, anger, sorrow, and pain. We grew up, made choices that we believed in, and lived through the consequences. 

I knew you when you hung the moon. When you were a young cowboy whose dreams went on for miles. Who gave me the gift of two sons, and that will forever be the greatest gift of this life.

Love Grows On - Song lyrics

She knew him back when he hung the moon                                                      He made her heart beat fast                                                                             Young love in full bloom                                                                                         It showed in their smiles                                                                                 Sparkled in their eyes                                                                                        And their dreams went on for miles                            

CHORUS                                                                                                             Love sprouts up when you least expect it                                                                      It grows wild and free, like a wayward vine                                                         Once upon a time, two hearts came together                                                      But what they didn’t know then is that the story never ends                              Love comes around again and again                                                                 And grows on and on and on                                                                             Love grows on and on, love grows on                              

A couple of kids with stars in their eyes                                                          Playing their hands like bandits                                                                                  in a game of real-life                                                                                   Sometimes they were winning                                                                               and sometimes they were losing                                                                       Making it look like they knew what they were doing                      

Years went by and they went their separate ways                                                But the love they planted long ago                                                                       Still has something to say                                                                                      A tiny heart that beats                                                                                        Little hands and little feet                                                                                     Love is alive and it’s never been stronger

[songgypsy]

Sleeping in the Sun 

by Trisha Leone

There was a house on Cottonwood Pass. It was on a picturesque ranch called Peaceful Valley and looked like it came right out of a storybook. All the buildings were painted red with white trim. It was a two-story house with wood-plank carpet that was perfect for driving toy trucks on, a tricycle too. Those were magical years—of learning how to walk and talk, and how to ride a bike. We went to story hour at the library and brought home piles of books. You played T-ball In pinstriped baseball pants with grass-stained knees. You bounced on the trampoline. We didn’t get TV reception, but your great-grandmother in California sent boxes of videotapes with old Jerry Lewis movies and episodes of the Andy Griffith Show. In the summer, you and your brother would haul your Tonka trucks across the dirt road to an old dump with big piles of dirt—perfect for building roads. We had a yellow lab named Barney, who went everywhere with you. His name came from Barney Fife. He’d sleep in the sun while you played the hours away. He chased rabbits through the sagebrush. I don’t recall if he ever caught one, but he made a high pitched bark when he was in hot pursuit. You sounded out the words and read him your favorite books. He was your audience and co-conspirator. He played the good guy and the bad guy. He patiently let you rope him, and was the first to find you in games of hide and seek. He was your pillow and napped alongside you with a green blanket stretched over the two of you. Whether you noticed or not, he was always close by, keeping an eye out. He was a boy’s best friend, and you both grew another year older, side by side. 

Sleeping In The Sun - Song lyrics

by Trisha Leone

On a dirt road two miles out of town                                                            There’s an old farmhouse that’s still around                                                    Sage covered hills, under skies so blue                                                                A lab named Barney raised a boy or two   

He slept with one eye opened, kept an eye on you                                        When you were sad he knew just what to do                                                     You called him Barney Fife, from the Andy Griffith show                                     He was the best friend a boy could ever know

There’s a rabbit on the run, the chase has just begun                                       He’s getting closer and closer to the catch                                                         We watched and we laughed and he taught us how to live                                Run as fast as you can and have a little fun                                                       Then spend some time sleeping in the sun 

When you learned to walk, he kept you steady                                                    You held on tight until you were ready                                                           When you took the training wheels off your bike                                                 He followed you until you got it right 

We all need someone to listen, and he always had the time                   Sometimes a one-way conversation, can help to clear your mind                   And even now I wonder who raised who                                                            But I guess that’s just between the two of you 

[songgypsy]

Shine On

Shine On 

by Trisha Leone

This is a story about a friendship that was unlike any other. They met when they had hit rock bottom after they had used up all their second chances. They carried their skeletons along with them. Out in the open for everyone to see, excavated from layers of dirt disguised as drugs and alcohol. They came from handcuffs, jail cells, and hospitals. There at the bottom, they found each other and shared their stories of hurt, shame, disgust, and regret. Slowly and painfully they peeled away the layers like the skin of an onion. And deep inside they discovered something they thought they had lost—beating hearts alive, pulsing, and full of promise for a life still yet to be lived. There was hope.

They were more than friends, they were more than brothers. They had seen the worst of each other. The stuff no one is meant to see. The ugly side of addiction. The anger and despair. But together they found strength and climbed. One step forward, and two steps back. When they could finally see that there was a way out, they knew they had to tell others and show them the way. Their stories were true and had power. Success met them at the door. And through it all, they never forgot each other. They held on tight, always there but never cutting each other any slack. For they knew. They knew what nobody else knew. 

They fought like brothers, cussed each other out, and held nothing back. But at the same time, they had a deep love and respect for one another. They had each other's backs and would drop everything if needed. But then life took a sharp turn and no one saw it coming. So now what? One is gone, but not really. Though your phone is not lighting up with his texts, his words are still in your head. When you get dressed, you know what he would say about your shirt, your shoes, your hair. He is still finishing your sentences, correcting your grammar, and ordering your lunch. He is right where he has always been—in your heart and in your soul. And you’re still taking care of business. That was the plan all along. Some stars shoot across the sky and fade, and others keep shining and leading the way. Shine on.