Over and Over

By Katy Vernon

Whenever someone asks what led me to become a songwriter, I tell them that from an early age I realized it was easier to sing about my feelings than talk about them.

Some really sad and difficult events happened during my childhood (my mum died when I was 12; my dad died 5 years later), and I found that really difficult to discuss with others. As a child, if I tried to open up about grieving my parents I would often find myself consoling others instead of feeling supported myself. I was craving connection and reassurance but instead found myself in these awkward and upsetting situations. So I learned to keep my feelings inside—to not tell my stories.

In search of an outlet, I began to pour my thoughts and feelings into songs. To a certain extent, I found I could share my feelings of grief, loss and longing in this way. I was singing pretty melodies, and my voice was attractive enough that people paid attention. I finally felt heard. However, there were still many things I didn’t think I’d ever speak or sing about.

One is the story I’m about to share. It seemed almost too personal, but when I learned I would be part of a showcase called Morningside After Dark: Moving Pictures — a special public event Dissonance is sponsoring on Monday, Feb. 27, 2023, in Edina, MN — I was inspired to capture it in music.

Once Upon a Time on National TV

On the evening of Nov. 9, 1981, Juliet Vernon was a guest on the long running BBC political program ‘Panorama.’ The discussion that night was about the rights of children with disabilities and their family caretakers. Juliet’s oldest child Peter had been born not breathing.

“It was 23 minutes before he breathed, and during his first 3 or 4 days of life he stopped breathing for periods of up to 5 to 10 minutes over and over and over again,” she said.

Each desperate lifesaving effort further contributed to the severe disabilities he would live with for the rest of his life. Not only was Juliet not made aware of the extent of these medical repercussions, but she was sent home from the hospital told only that Peter might have slight issues with the function of his left arm. In the months and years to come, it became clear that his left arm was actually the only part of his body he had any modicum of control over.

Juliet Vernon was my motheR.

My mum dedicated her life to caring for Peter. He lived at home until 1980, when at the age of 15 he was too heavy to be physically cared for full-time solely by my parents. He still came home every weekend and accompanied us on every family road trip. My mother made sure his care was central to our family's life. He was and still is greatly loved.

That evening, it was very exciting to know she was going to be on live TV. We didn’t have a VCR yet and YouTube was many years away, so as my Dad accompanied her to the BBC Lime Grove Studios, we were dropped off at a neighbor’s house so we could stay up late and tune in. It wasn’t the kind of show I normally would have watched as a child, but I knew it was popular and serious and that everyone we knew was going to tune in.

Juliet died just three years after that appearance.

What she said that night wasn’t heard again until September 2018. For over 34 years, I didn’t hear my mother’s voice. I had forgotten what she sounded like. Her light southern Welsh accent, with it’s sing-song cadence brimming with warmth and kindness. After years of wondering if video of this episode existed, I reached out to the still-running program via social media. I didn’t know the exact year and date that it was filmed. All I could provide was her name and a loose description of the subject matter.

Less than 24 hours later, a little notification on my phone alerted me that my deep-rooted curiosity would finally be satisfied. I had to wait for a few months, but eventually a nearly-3-minute video arrived in my inbox—a modern miracle beaming from London to Minnesota. It had been so long, from 1981 to 2018. Finally, a chance to peer back in time and see and hear my mother once again.

I set myself the challenge of writing a song about this. The only moving pictures I will ever have of my mother made such an impact. What felt lost forever now sits on my phone. At any time, I can click and watch and hear her. The real her. Emotional, fierce, vulnerable, kind. For most of my life she felt like some ethereal perfection that I would never really know. This short video brings back a connection and reminds me of the real woman.

That’s a lot to try and capture in a song.

After the first and second verses came to me almost complete, it took me two more weeks to finish.—painstakingly revisiting every word to try and make it all make sense.

I don’t usually write literal story songs. This one had to have a clear narrative: what’s it about, why does it matter, how does it progress, what does that mean, how does it resolve—all questions I never usually ask myself when writing.

I am usually more instinctive and free-flowing, but with this song the stakes felt high to get it right and do the story justice. This type of rulemaking with writing typically inhibits my creativity, but I pushed through the pressure. It was all self-imposed anyway, and that was a good reminder to just keep trying.

What I have now is a tribute to my mum, and hopefully it does the story justice and brings me some peace. I hope it helps inspire other people or brings them comfort.

Also, a piece of advice that I would like to pass along in relation to this experience: make the time to film and record your loved ones while you can.

Katy Vernon is a professional musician , a mom and spouse, and a Dissonance board member .

Performing Over and Over.

Over and Over lyrics

Staring at a photograph

Wishing I could I hear you laugh

Chasing an echo of a whisper

The voice that read to me each night

Was part of you that first took flight

Been racing time to remember

in my mirror I still see your face

In the smiles of my girls you left a trace

After all these years without a sound

I felt so lost until I found

40 seconds of film

After 34 years of silence

A way to reel you in

Pull you back from the distance

So much of my life

I never had a choice

Never gave up hope

That I’d hear my mothers voice

I’d get to hear your voice

Over and over again

I put you on a pedestal

It only made you feel less real

Someone I could not live up to

But now I see and hear you speak

It makes you seem so close to me

I found a way to be with you