Music sounds the human heart in ways that cannot be completely tracked by even the most complex neurological interpretation mechanisms. It can evoke memories from brains no longer capable of even recalling their children’s name or their own. It defines our life and times and in seconds magically transports the aged and less aged to entirely different time frames than that in which they are living.
This morning on Good Morning America, as we now begin the re-hash of the death of Whitney Houston, Robin Roberts was speaking to Celine Dion. Celine blessedly was not politically correct. She stated honestly, clearly, concisely and for all to hear the words “danger” “drugs” “bad influences” and more.
She discussed the Hollywood lifestyle with drugs to wake up, drugs to perform, drugs to relax after the performance and drugs to go to sleep. She gave good advise. Do your work, enjoy it and go home. Go home to those that really love you. Your family, your daughter. Not your music….YOU. Good advise I think.
I love Robin Roberts but it seemed this straight talk from Dion was received with discomfort from Robin. Dion was frustrated by the fact that nothing….not her responsibilities to and love for her daughter, her love for her Mother or even her care for herself saved her from the ravages of her lifestyle. The toxicology on Whitney Houston will be a laborious process and not available for weeks but drugs killed Whitney. Many loved her but none could save her. To her peril, she could not save herself.
Whitney Houston voice was powerful, ethereal, magic and to my ears the most beautiful enchanting sound ever. I loved her music. It brings this Asheville Bed and Breakfast owner back immediately to my Mom, now gone from me. We spent countless hours singing Whitney’s songs to the tops of our lungs all the way to and back from Winter Park, Fl. on the many journey’s we made as I collected her for visits at my home. Whitney sounded my heart, every emotion I ever felt and called my most visceral emotions to the surface with ease.
I mourn her passing as an artist but more than that, I mourn her passing as a person, as a Mom, as a daughter and as a woman. I think her loss at 48 years old is a tragedy but less to the magic of the music she brought than to the woman who gave her birth and the girl, who as her daughter,will now grow into womanhood without her Mom.
That is what we should be mourning today. I acknowledge the truth of all those saying Whitney Houston will “live forever in her music” but somehow I am thinking that playing the tunes will offer cold comfort to her child, her Mother and her family. They were more into the flesh and blood than the legend.
Maybe we all need to think on that.
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