The Death of an Icon - Prince

It's been seven hours and thirteen days... since you took your love away.

Almost two weeks ago the world lost an icon and I have been unable to process that loss or write anything about it until now. I don't use the word icon loosely. I know most people do, but the title belongs to Prince. A music icon that legends are written about. An all encompassing beautiful force. A true work of art. I knew it would happen, but it pisses me off that in less than two weeks most people aren't talking about him anymore. Well, they are talking about the fact that he may or may not have had a will. They are talking about whether he had a drug problem. But not many people are talking about what he would want us to talk about... his music. A catalog UNMATCHED.

On a personal level, it wasn't JUST the music that made me love Prince. It was that supreme confidence that he had. Listen, maybe it was because he was short. Maybe it was because he was so unapologetically himself. I'm not sure exactly what it was but from the first bar of the first song that I heard, I was hooked. Age 8. 30 years...the love grew. I mean how could you NOT love a man that is secure enough to wear eyeliner and mascara (after the 80s)? How could you not love a man secure enough to give whole concerts in heels taller than ones that line my closet/whose hairstyles put most women to shame? How could you NOT love a man that routinely featured women in his groups-- as lead singers, lead guitarists, saxophone players, keyboard players and drummers? How could you NOT love a man that was (by most accounts) a self taught musical genius and was a perfectionist about what represented him? How could you not? A man that gave us the most beautiful love song ever (it is Adore, by the way, and no... you don't want to argue with me about that). A man that exuded self confidence (hello, ass out chaps); a man that was Black... and proud.

You know how you can figure out who a true fan is? It is actually easy-- they know more than just the top 40 (popular) hits by a person. They know more than the first album. They know the B-sides that most people have never heard of. They aren't mad that his songs aren't on youtube because they have already PAID for them. These are the people that will remember exactly where they were when they heard that Prince was found unresponsive at Paisley Park. Those same people will know where Paisley Park IS and what it IS. Those same folks will have silently shed tears for their lost friend. Friend... because the music made you realize some shit about yourself. Friend... because the music got you through some shit. Some tough shit. Some world ending shit. Or some new love shit. Or some new beginning shit. Friend... because we realized a long time ago that all of Prince's songs weren't about sex. And some of the ones about sex were about so much more. Friend... because he helped orchestrate the soundtrack of the life you continue to live. Friend... because he lives on through you and the music he left behind. Friend.

How do you say goodbye to a friend?

Sunday Funday - I'm a Believer

You know-- not so long ago, bands were NOT orchestrated. They were made up of people (friends) who knew each other and each person in a group/band had their own unique gift that they brought to the table. Someone was the bass, the soprano, the drummer, the lead guitar. You get it, right? They weren't for show. They were for music. That all began to change in the mid 60s. The Monkees were THE group that helped change that. They were a group of unknowns, thrown together, made into a group... a moneymaker. When it was found out that they didn't make their own music, the backlash was monumental, but before that, they were the hottest thing on the airwaves.

During the resurgence of the Monkees in the 80s (when Nick at Nite started replaying the show) I was caught in the upswing of new Monkees fans. How could you not love that show? It was like the three stooges (plus one) with music. My parents can attest that my regular play list consisted of the Monkees, Janis Joplin, 60s protest songs... what can I say? I was a strange kid, I guess. I have to say I watched the Monkees because of Davy Jones. He owned the original Bieber haircut! He had an accent and he was about my height (clearly this was before I realized that two short people will generally have short babies...) I swear Davy Jones and Ted Danson are responsible for my interracial dating. Yep, I blame Cheers and the Monkees! ;)

This past week, Davy Jones (dreamboat that he was) passed away. I was actually upset. He always seemed cheerful and every time I saw him on a tv show I would automatically remember him as a goofy teenage on the Monkees, chasing girls and singing songs...about chasing girls. This post is dedicated to my Daydream Believer from one of his Homecoming Queens... RIP Davy.

Daydream Believer


*Our good time starts and ends, without dollar one to spend. But how much, baby, do we really need?



I'm Not Your Stepping Stone


*You've been awful careful 'bout the friends you choose; but you won't find my name in your book of who's who's



Pleasant Valley Sunday


*Another Pleasant Valley Sunday, here in status symbol land. Mothers complain about how hard life is, and the kids just don't understand.

A Decade of Sorrow

Today is September 11. This date is etched in the minds of all Americans old enough to realize that the life we had a decade ago will never resurface in the same way again. I've written about the sorrow and the pain that we all undoubtedly felt as we watched the twin towers crumble, along with our faith in mankind a decade ago. I've written about my feelings, what I was doing, and that fact that I, like most of my peers, will never forget exactly what I was doing on that fateful day. As I watched a morning full of tribute shows, interviews with military strategists, family members of those who perished and children who were born on the now most infamous day in recent American history, I knew that this year's September 11 post would be different.

This year, I am still sad... of course. I am still praying for the family members that were left to put the pieces back together. I still feel pain when I see the accident site in Pennsylvania, when I look at the memorials at the Pentagon and Ground Zero. A decade later, it is still upsetting to see the playback of smoke billowing from both towers, faces covered in ash, people running for their lives down the streets of New York City, photos of posters of family members that would never be seen again. Even a toughy like me has problems processing that kind of hurt. But, my question this year is: we know what happened a decade ago... what have you done in the last decade?

So many times we allow years to just fly by. We graduate from college, get jobs and get stuck in a routine. A routine where we breathe but don't live. Do you know what I mean? We do responsible things like pay bills, go to work, etc. Those things are necessary and commendable but don't always allow for us to be passionate. Don't allow for us to make spur of the moment plans, or do what we really love- even if it is just on the weekends. Routines allow for us to stay in positions that may be stifling (read: jobs, relationships, etc.) That should change!

I don't know why someone would have enough hate in their lives to orchestrate something like those terrorist attacks. I am not sure what would ever motivate a person to commit suicide in order to punish/kill people that they don't even know. I don't know why anyone would feel the need to kill someone that has never done wrong to them. The one thing that I do know from September 11, 2001 is that you never know what could happen. You never know when your end is coming. So you should live the best life you can every day. You like photography? Take some classes, or get outside and take pictures. You want to travel-- do it! You want to go back to school? Do that. Love with all your heart; say everything that you really believe; tell all the people that you love how you feel-- not just on birthdays, or anniversaries-- every day. We should all have a sense of urgency. Life is so short and we should do everything that we are passionate about before our candles of life are blown out. Live the dreams that you have. Love people. Do not become complacent-- we are all here for a reason, therefore, we all have work to do. Get after it.

Teena Marie- Gone Too Soon

On December 26, 2010 the music world was again robbed. Teena Marie (aka Lady T) died in her sleep at her home in California. She was 54. It is believed that she died of natural causes.
Like most of the ladies that make appearances on my blog, I know when a Teena Marie song comes on the radio. Her voice was so distinctive. To say that she had talent would be the understatement of the century. Much has been made about the fact that her music was often played on "black" radio stations, and that her base of fans were African Americans, that she was Rick James' protege, etc.
I think that Teena Marie just shows us that R&B music transcends race. Talent is talent and R&B doesn't care if you are Black, White or Green... R&B only cares if you have heart and soul, and Teen Marie did!
I am not going to do a montage of videos for her- because everyone else has done that. One single video will suffice. This is my favorite Teena Marie song, from my very first CD. I spent hours singing this song to myself!! It is beautiful. Without further adieu- If I were a Bell. RIP Teena Marie

The Day that the Buckeye Nation Cried

Today is a horribly sad day for the Buckeye Nation. Today, Stefanie Spielman lost her long, hard fought battle with breast cancer. A consummate optimist, she took the diagnosis (at the age of 30) with amazing grace. I remember when the Columbus news stations started covering her diagnosis- my sophomore year of college. I watched a young woman who married her college sweetheart take the breast cancer challenge and win (remission) four times. She was a mainstay in Columbus, always on the sideline watching and cheering for the amazing Buckeye team- years after her husband Chris graduated and went to the NFL. She has also been, at least for me, the face of the James Cancer Hospital at OSU.

An inspiration would be an understatement. I never saw her cry. I never saw her feel bad about her situation. She just got after it. Stefanie and Chris were heads of fundraising for cancer research in central Ohio. I don't even live there anymore, and I still know that where ever they were needed to get people to donate, they were there. I clearly remember seeing Stefanie, Chris and their (4) children on a commercial about cancer education and fundraising.

Forty-two is too young for her to be gone. She won't see her children become adults. She won't see her grandchildren. She will miss college graduations and weddings. Forty-two is too young...

While we mourn the loss of an amazingly spirited woman, we need to take some action Buckeye nation. I used to work for an organization that researches and fights cancer through many avenues. From working there I can tell you that during our lifetime, 1 in 3 of us will be diagnosed with some sort of cancer. Because of their funding and research, more of us will be successfully treated, but I am longing for a time when cancer-as it is today- does not exist. What can you do? There are plenty of ways that you can raise cancer awareness in central Ohio. Donate to the James (http://www.jamesline.com; click on the ways to give tab) or call the central Ohio office of the American Cancer Society (888.227.6446) and pledge a donation. For those of you in the Buckeye Nation in the Chicagoland area, there are plenty of ways for you to give also. There is an amazing place called the Wellness Place (http://www.wellnessplace.org) that raises money for cancer education, care and help for those in the midst of their battle. You can make a donation- or you can shop (!) and they will get a donation from the money that you spend (http://www.shopbelongings.com). Also, the suburban offices of the American Cancer Society are also available to take donations. Whatever you decide to do- TAKE ACTION. Make sure that there are fewer 42 year old moms losing their battle to the ugly disease called cancer.

My prayers go out to the Spielman family. I hope and wish the best for you through this rough times.

Miss Mox