Whitney

I was never extremely starstruck as a child. I didn't plaster my walls with heart throbs or anything. I did appreciate (and try to imitate) some great, famous people. This weekend, another of my "greats" died. No more Princess Diana, no more Michael Jackson, and now no more Whitney. It's another blow to my preteen gut, and a great loss for the world.

I'm sure my parents wanted to shut me up when I belted out Whitney Houston songs in the car...on my Walkman tape player...many times. I shudder to think of the reality of that singing compared to my perception of how it played out in my head. There wasn't much quiet, subdued singing in Whitney's songs.

From what I remember, Whitney was always a one-woman show. Lights dimmed, except for the spotlight on her...not much fancy choreography with an army of dancers like now...no exorcisms in her performances (what was that about last night?): it was mostly just Whitney. Her beautiful physique, her glamorous gowns, her incredible gift of a voice. She sang of falling in love, falling out of love, and being cheated by love.

Watching her life become a train wreck was tough to watch. It was like watching a flower wilt over the course of nearly two decades. I hated to hear about her addictions, bad marriage, failure as a parent, abuse, etc. She was Whitney. How could a life path so beautiful, and full of potential just take a plummeting turn downward?

I heard Whitney's daughter sing a rendition of Adele's Someone Like You a few months ago. While it wasn't quite Whitney, it renewed my hopes that she might emerge as a star. Her pipes were powerful, yet tender--a lot like her mom. She must be very sad.