Thursday, June 25, 2009

hold me

I was 5 years old, covered in chicken pox. It was a painful existence, the itch occupying all my thoughts despite the should be distractions, Disney movies, puzzles, etc. Mom and dad brought soothing lotion into my chamber sorrow, and turned on the television. I feel like it was Mtv. It's not a reflection of their poor parenting, instead of their hipness. On the screen was a man unlike any other I had seen. And the song...oh the song! I was mesmerized. The itch vanished as I stared at the awesome spectacle. Baby it don't matter if you're black or white. It was a pivotal moment. It solidified my anti-racist stance. If a man this awesome says it doesn't matter, bygeorge it doesn't matter. Also, it was the moment I fell in love with music. The beat, the pop, the squeals. A while later Free Willy only strengthened my adoration. Sure he seemed to fall apart toward the end there. Sure he looked like his own wax figurine. Sure the news coverage of his death is making me giggle a bit. But I have to give credit where credit is due. I wish I was outside the Apollo Theater, where I wouldn't stop dancing til I had enough.

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