Farewell, my Prince

Growing up, I had two separate lives. There was my school life, with one set of friends and family, and then there was my summer life, with different friends, a different family, in a different part of the country. There were times I felt like two separate people, these lives were so at odds.

In one, we were poor and indulgences were few and far between. The other left me feeling spoiled, like I could have everything my heart desired, where fridges were full and there were weekly trips to the mall, where I was allowed to choose things to take home. I almost always got music or books, reading Anne of Green Gables, Sweet Valley High, listening to Madonna. In one world I was often left home alone, the apartment my domain. In the other I was surrounded by grandmas and grandpas, aunts and uncles, the Morman family next door with their eight kids, including one of the best friends I would ever know. In that world I had the run of two towns, where I could cross state lines on my bike all day long.

It was my summer life in Minnesota that first introduced me to Prince. His Minnesota connection made the state embrace him in a way the rest of the world just couldn't. His songs were always on the radio. MTV played his videos all the time. When 1999 came out in 1982 I was at the age where I was beginning to discover music on my own terms. His voice, his music, became a part of the very person I would become. (Even if, at the time, the true meaning of the lyrics were completely missed by my young mind.)

When Doves Cry was the song I chose when I did karaoke for the first time. Prince's soundtrack to the 1989 Batman was the sole reason I was obsessed with the movie, (and possibly its best quality). To date, whenever I hear the opening notes to Raspberry Beret or Batdance I am instantly transported to the red house on 14th Street whose living room saw all my best dance moves.

Last month I was back in Minnesota, taking care of my grandmother who is fighting her battle with cancer. We were at the Roger Maris Cancer Center for appointments and treatments on April 21st. The infusion was going to take several hours and so while she rested I went for a walk to get some food. When I returned, Fox News was on and a few minutes later they broke in with the announcement of Prince's death.

At first I was stunned. In my mind he is forever the twenty-something talking about the girl who walked in through the out door. How could he possibly be dead? Wasn't he one of the few who would live forever?

And I guess, it is a truth that being an artist does make you an immortal. Even after the last breath, the body of work the artist leaves behind will continue living its own life.

I watched the news, already emotional because the appointment with the doctor had not gone as well as we'd hoped, grateful to have the camouflage for my tears.

On Facebook and Twitter I watched as the news began to spread through my friends and celebrities, all the artists and writers I follow. I was not the only one whose life had been influenced by Prince. His admirers were widespread and there were many responses and many tributes.

That night I sat by myself in the living room, the same living room in the red house where I'd watched countless Prince videos growing up. I watched as MTV played video after video, including live performances. I scrolled through social media, feeling less alone as I began to grieve the death of someone I had never met, knowing that the emotions inside me were twisted and tangled, about more than the loss of one great artist. I came across the following tweet by @ElusiveJ:

Thinking about how we mourn artists we've never met. We don't cry because we knew them, we cry because they helped us know ourselves.

What a profound truth in less than 140 characters.

It is no exaggeration that books and music have saved my life, have made me a better human being, have taught me empathy, have broadened my world view, have allowed me to experience things far beyond my own life. Music has pulled me out of what Anne (of Green Gables) would call "the depths of despair."

Even in a world without Prince, I know that in the dark days that are yet to come, that are forever haunting the horizon, I will still have his music and it will make me dance, it will make me smile, and it will remind me there is always hope and always inspiration.

"I've seen the future and it will be
I've seen the future and it works
And if there's life after, we will see
So I can't go like a jerk"

Watching MTV's tribute to Prince, April 21st, 2016

It All Adds Up

If writing saved my life half the times it was up for grabs, music saved my life the other half. There are times I remember it felt like the only thing that could save me as the adults in my young life fought so loud there wasn't a number high enough on my Walkman to drown out the sounds that came before the cops did.

There were nights spent in the dark, buried beneath the covers, listening to the radio or a tape so well worn it was bound to break from all the love.

There were days I came home from school to an empty living room and I would fill it loud with the sounds of whatever was my current favorite.

When I was in college, sometimes I would spend hours at a time in the practice rooms of the music building playing the piano, pounding out whatever pains were poking at my heart.

Music has reminded me time after time that I am not alone in whatever sadness or whatever joy life has thrown at me. It has given me the courage to keep traveling until dawn.

Last week, after one particularly challenging morning at work, I was sitting in my office when I heard a familiar voice singing a song I had never heard. I immediately cranked up the volume of the overhead speaker and confirmed that it was Josh Ritter whose voice had found me. I didn't even know we had gotten his new album The Beast in its Tracks for in-store play, but my music manager knew that it was exactly what I needed to get me through the rest of the day.

The Beast in its Tracks is an album about many things. As Josh says, "It is an album that began in heart-break, but (for me!) it has come to stand for everything that happened after. I'm here, I'm alive, I love what I do."

One thing I've been reminded of time and time again, through books, through songs, through the best people in my life, is that we are not alone. We are all connected through our struggles and our triumphs. I have also been reminded that sometimes it's the seemingly insignificant gestures of kindness that can mean the most.

There's pain in whatever we stumble upon. If I never had met you, you couldn't have gone. But then I couldn't have met you. We couldn't have been. I guess it all adds up to joy in the end.

from Joy To You Baby by Josh Ritter

From an adventure that is a story in and of itself.

Mix Tapes and a Request

The other day I was rooting around in my old desk (the desk my dad built for me some 20+ years ago) and when I opened one of the drawers I stumbled across my collection of old mix tapes. These tapes date back to high school and college, the days before you could burn cds. I didn't save every one that I ever made, nor every one that someone else made for me, but these I saved even though there is currently no device in our house to play them on.

Such memories are wrapped up in these tapes, in these songs.

My friend, M., gave me my very first mix tape as a graduation/going away present in 1994 (as pictured below). I loved, loved, loved this mix and listened to it so many times over the years I'm surprised it survived. In fact, now that it's resurfaced, I am planning to make a playlist out of it so I can enjoy it all over again!

Music has saved my life on more than one occasion. My childhood had its share of trauma and I remember when my grandfather gave me my first Walkman for Christmas. I felt so cool since they were so new and none of my friends had one yet. I was not used to being the first to get much of anything.

When things got rough at home, I would crawl under the covers in the dark and I would put my headphones on and turn up the volume, losing myself to the music. This was a tactic I used for many years, music as a method of escape, as a method of therapy.

As I've mentioned before, in other blogs on other days, music is an important part of one my primary character's life. Holden is obsessed with music in ways that I am not, and for him, the music has been less about the diversion, and more about the passion. Holden is always making playlists and has made hundreds with different themes.

This all being said, I have a request. I would love any of you reading this to make me a playlist/mix cd. If you do this for me, I would kindly return the favor.

My very first mix tape

A sampling of some of the salvaged mixes.

NaNoWriMo 2011, The Penultimate Day, 57328 Words

I am not nearly as obsessed with music as my character, Holden is. But the two of us both understand something. Music is a mood alterer and an agent of time traveling. There is a reason sports arenas play music. There is a reason movies have soundtracks. Just imagine what it would be like to watch one of your favorite films without music. Dialogue can only do so much (though sometimes, with the right words, can be intensely powerful all on its own). There are books and books that discuss the affects of music on the brain. Here's a handy link to an amusing article: 7 Insane Ways Music Affects the Body (According to Science).

I've had songs take me back to memories I'd long forgotten, make me remember people (boys) I don't think about anymore. It can make me melancholy. It can inspire. It can make me feel fantastic. Some songs, if they catch me unawares, can knock me flat on my back. I've never needed drugs as long as I've had music.

I remember a difficult time in college when I was really hurting and I would walk around campus with my headphones on or I'd go to the music building and find an open practice room with a piano and play. I was never very good, but just the act of creating music made me feel better.  It still does.

Sometimes when I have my music library on shuffle (with its tens of thousands of songs), it feels a bit like playing Russian Roulette. Which song is going to be the bullet that knocks me down? How many songs will pass by without any impact?

"Diamonds, roses, I need Moses to cross this sea of loneliness, part this red river of pain."

           from Moses by Patty Griffin

NaNoWriMo 2011: Influences (Day 9, 15,222 Words)

Apparently it doesn't matter if I go to bed at 10pm or 1am, I can't sleep past The New 6am.

It's painful and it's going to make this an even longer day...though the possibility of a nap exists in my peripheral view...I just need to get some words out first and spend time with a good friend and her beautiful new daughter.

Yesterday was definitely one of those exceptional days, one of those days that don't come often. It is an evening, short of a mental disorder, that I will never, ever forget.

I'm not certain if I'm yet equipped with words to describe what made the night so exceptional, what made the morning such a brilliant prelude, but I feel the pull to at least attempt something.

There was one point I was standing in the Body Worlds exhibit, observing this library of our physicality, our humanity, and I literally read the writing on the wall. It was an explanation of some of the ways music affects the brain. This is something that has always fascinated me, having always been drawn so completely into the world of music.

Music has saved my life, my sanity, my hope, so many times and in so many ways. It assures and comforts me, knowing there is a scientific explanation for this, though I'm not certain why.

To say there was an unhappy period of my childhood, does not really do it justice. When I was young, to drown out the sounds of adults fighting, I would crawl under the covers with my Walkman and put on my headphones, turning the volume dial up until I could no longer hear the shouting.

Last night Amanda Palmer talked about Influences. It's a question musicians (and writers and other artists) get asked often during interviews. She talked about how she had recently realized there was someone she had left out of her list, Judy Blume. She sang us a song she had written about Judy Blume that sent shivers through my body and welled tears in my eyes.

I would not be the person, the writer I am today, without the influences of Madonna and Amy Grant. I know that those two don't often end up often listed together, but there it is. It's who I am.

I have been influenced as much by music as I have by books and it's always fascinating for me when one artist crosses over from one side to the other...like Josh Ritter writing a novel or Neil Gaiman singing (and writing) songs.

When I was a senior in college, I was approached by a student in a Music Composition class, asking if they could use a poem I had published in the Literary Arts magazine the year before. I said yes, feeling quite proud. When I went to the recital to hear it performed I was quite surprised to find there was another student who had also chosen the same poem to write music for. Having never possessed the ability to compose myself, I was fascinated to hear how two different people interpreted my words.

As a child, I always felt drawn to the piano keyboard, even though I played the violin and sang in choirs. By the time I reached high school, I had abandoned both the violin and singing, but I still felt drawn to the piano. It wasn't until college that I fully realized that the keyboard I was meant to play was a QWERTY one.

I adore the rhythm, the tapping of my fingers on the keys, as I attempt to write my own music. It feels like home.

"I want you and I want you to want me to want you. But I don't need you, don't need you to need me to need you. That's just me, so take me or leave me, but please don't need me, don't need me to need you to need me. 'Cause we're here one minute, the next we're dead, so love me and leave me, but try not to need me, enough said. I want you, but I don't need you."

                      from I Want You, But I Don't Need You, Amanda Palmer (cover of song by Momus)

Amanda Palmer and (a faceless) Neil Gaiman at The Aladdin, November 8th, 2011