Dancing In The Purple Rain

I am so very sad the last couple of days.  I think back to 2016, and wish that I really could rewind and start all over again.  Actually, I wish I could go back to the middle of 2015, and just undo all of it– every waking moment.  Starting with the day my dad died, and ending with the day royalty died.  The reason for my sadness is the loss of Prince.  I am not much of celebrity watcher, I don’t care about the reality stars, I am not a member of the Bey Hive, and I have varied tastes in movies and music.  The one thing I am very proud of is being from the state of Minnesota.

The military has taken me all over the world, but my heart is in Minnesota, and a big part of my heart died this last week.  I was a huge fan of Prince since I was 8.  You see being from Minneapolis, loving music, and appreciating the color purple is a birthright.  Prince was everything that was great about Minnesota.  A part of a bohemian musical and artistic scene.  He had made it big musically and artistically, he didn’t move to LA, NYC, or anywhere else.  He built a recording studio in Chanhassen, a suburb of Minneapolis. He stayed where his heart was.

There was no paparazzi in Minnesota.  When I was in High School, it was well known that you could go to Downtown MN, go into in First Avenue, and maybe see him (if you were lucky you would see a show!).  He would be outside of his compound handing out invitations to block parties, and some of his neighbors even said he would stop by for a chat.  He didn’t drink, he didn’t do drugs, and he was a religious man.  The biggest thing about Prince, though, he was one of US.  He was someone we were proud of.  He not only defined where I am from, but he defined people of my generation.  He was our Elvis, he was our neighbor, and he will be missed.

So when it rains, I will be dancing in the Purple Rain…