Link for lyrics, recordings and other stories: YOU ARE MY WINGS

Below are audio links to my 8/31 voice lesson with Peaches regarding the new version of my song, “You Are My Wings,” which I will be re-recording and posting soon. (At the end of the Lesson D, she receives her birthday present – a painting of a still life of peaches from me!)





Today, I went into the studio having made the decision to re-record my song, “You Are My WIngs.” This was a difficult choice for me, as I had three other songs I was ready to record. George and I spent a lot of time on the arrangement. This was the first time I did not play my guitar. I wanted an arrangement that was primarily “piano based.” We ran out of time for my vocals. . I will put it on the song recordings page when it is complete. George will be adding a lot more instrumentation, including drums next time.

I celebrate that even this song “in progress,” is significantly better than my version done two months ago.

This is absolutely how young I feel right now!

“My mother”

I am very fortunate about how much my mother loves me. She has been very happy that I am enjoying life, and has not placed any great demands upon me. I know she has complete faith in me as her advocate; I always make sure she is well taken care of and her needs are met.

I recall how certain messages sustained me during the difficult time last January while my mom was on a respirator. Here was a special one that I received from my cousin, Dorothy:

January 29, 2010


Thank you for all your e-mails about your mom. You are a strong woman with some special qualities. All the special qualities you have your mother has slowly put into you; from your painting, to your persistence.

When you were just a little girl I remember your mother telling me how much you loved bugs, then it was painting and all the time she spent, with you as your slowly learned to paint.

When Jason got sick she was there every moment with you either by phone or in person. As each and every one of your children were born she was always there. It is true you have done a lot for your children and they have turned out the way they have because of this. However, no one bakes a cake without an oven, so too it was your mom that listened to you and gave you great advice so you could have the confidence to do what you have done.

Love, Dorothy

A picture of Dorothy and I when I was twenty.

My cousin, Dorothy, holding Jason.

A page from my diary when I was nineteen.

I entitled this post, “In the Heavens,” because that’s simply where I am right now. I don’t wonder whether it will lead to a crashing, “come down.” It doesn’t matter to me whether it lasts – I’m simply enjoying it.

Yesterday while at the gym, a stranger in the Jacuzzi commented to me, “You sure seem happy. You haven’t stopped smiling.”

I swam laps, yesterday. I usually swim when I feel stress. However, I swam to address an ache that often arises when I have tremendous “creative urges.” I used to feel the “ache” when I felt the need to write about something traumatic. Now I have that ache when I am “birthing” a song.

“Birthing” is the word I use, because the whole process is truly like that for me. While composing and refining a song, I feel as if I’m reliving those same feelings I had when I originally wrote it! There is tremendous relief after recording any of my songs. When I listen to my recent recording of “Farewell,” I am transported to a place in the heavens.

The creative ache continues for me as though I am having “after birth” contractions. I listen to my recordings and analyze them over and over. Just as I have marveled at my newborn children, I marvel at my musical creations.

I’ve thought about whether someday I will create my own CD of music to sell. I’m not so sure I will, unless my music is commercially produced. What I’ve been doing has been expensive; it’s certainly a higher priority than driving a newer car!

Because I am continually improving, I don’t want to lock into anything that is not up to my high standards. I like sharing my progress on this blog. I imagine that a year from now I will be even farther along on the “musical” part of my journey.

I had another realization this morning. Performing has also allowed me to alleviate my creative ache. It has been wonderful, because it allows me to share.

“Sharing” is what I want to do. I am not selling anything for that reason.

All I want to do is share my knowledge, insights, stories, and music. If I move other people, then my heart is truly in the heavens.

“Moving my teachers; a tremendous source of satisfaction for me.”

Email correspondence with Frankie, my in high school choir teacher:

On Aug 24, 2010, Judy wrote:

Hi Frankie,

It is very meaningful to share my newest, instrumental recording with you. My identity has always been as an artist, not a musician at all. I wrote this song when I was in your class at the age of 17.

Do you remember when I used to play that song for the choir coffeehouse? I know I’m not technically very proficient yet, but I can see how much I keep improving!

The reason this song sticks in my mind was that I wrote it while in choir and called it “Farewell.” It actually was a song I sang that said “Goodbye” to the choir. I sang it frequently.

I had a wonderful session. I hummed all the parts for my arranger and loved his choice of instruments.

Love, Judy

Dear Judy,

Thanks you for this beautiful recording, which actually brought tears to my eyes. I suppose part of it was that David’s death date anniversary was the 16th and also that I saw a very touching British film yesterday, “Mrs. Palfry at the Claremont.”

Please keep me posted about your mother. I certainly understand your being anxious about that.

Love, Frankie

Hi Frankie,

Your response brought tears to my eyes! To move my high school music teacher after all these years – wow!

By the way, I write a lot about loss. I can feel it in my music. Actually, this instrumental song is called “Farewell” so it’s another “Goodbye” song!

Love, Judy

P.s. Loved that movie, too. Fabulous.

Dear Judy,

Seeing the movie brought the loss to the fore, as did your song. I am still rather weepy today, but I know it is important to grieve when the feelings surface.

Love, Frankie

Dearest Frankie,

You are so honest and I’m sorry for your tears today. It is interesting how grief finds a way to work itself to the surface. “Up and out” is a motto that has helped me very much.

I hope you are doing something nurturing for yourself. I stopped biting my nails two months ago. I went and had a pedicure and manicure today. I was in my musical reverie as I listened to my recordings while soaking my feet.

Life has been wonderful.

My mother seems to be better. Her respiratory condition has improved, and I spoke with the caregiver to increase her hours over my father’s objections.

Love, Judy

Dear Judy,

Thank you for the loving response.

How interesting that you mentioned biting your nails, because I did that until I was in my late twenties perhaps. I do not recall what caused me to quit, but I applaud you for being able to stop.

Soaking feet while listening to your recordings sounds blissful.

It’s good to receive positive news about your mom. Brava for increasing the caregiver’s hours, if that is what your mom needs. I am a firm believer in that after my mother’s experience.

Love, Frankie

Dear Frankie,

Thank god, I finally see the light. I should have listened to you a long time ago and gotten a caregiver.

This woman is truly wonderful, too, and as you know that makes a huge difference. I could never be enjoying my life as I am, if this caregiver wasn’t involved.

Love, Judy

P.s. Interesting about your nails. I waited 50 years! It’s still an adjustment – however, now the nails are excellent in creating nicer tone on the guitar. I didn’t even grow them for that reason!

Having lunch with my high school music teacher, Frankie, two weeks ago.

The message below is from Nancy, my college illustration instructor after I emailed her a recording of my latest song, “Farewell.”

On Aug 25, 2010, Nancy wrote:

Dear Judy,

Your son is very, very sweet. Almost like a lullaby. Tender.

You are so wonderful. It is you. You are your song.

Thank you.


Dearest Nancy,

Your message is so meaningful for me; you have no idea.

Love, Jude

Sympathy card I received from Nancy after Jason died. My “seasonal march” toward the anniversary of his death has begun.

© Judy Unger and 2010. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Judy Unger with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

About Judy

I'm an illustrator by profession. At this juncture in my life, I am pursuing my dream of writing and composing music. Every day of my life is precious!
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