Monday, April 25, 2016

Honey, I know, I know

I feel every stroke of the guitar solo in “Purple Rain.” I hated to hear those mournful opening chords at the high school dance, it meant stopping the ecstasy of dancing and sitting on the sidelines for eight minutes watching others pair off and shuffle in the dim light. Eight minutes of being alone, watching the couples nestle into each other and trying to understand what that might feel like and wanting it at the same time, and knowing, somehow, that this song itself ached and mourned for that very moment.

Later, after I had learned about those moments, I stood alone, but not alone in the United Center and felt the love for us, all of us, from the small man with great stature. The song became a moment of love, peace and unity that I hadn’t felt and will never feel from another artist again.

I won’t post the song here because that’s one that is still not up.

And you know it already, don’t you.

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