The Prince is Dead.

Well, I’ve lost the first major icon of my teenage years. Prince died yesterday. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around this one.

When Purple Rain came out, my sister, a year and a half younger than me, REALLY wanted to see it. Our parents were willing to let us have the car to go to the theater. I wasn’t really interested, but in a rare show of older sibling nicety, I said, “Okay, we’ll go see it.”

And we did. I was blown away. BLOWN AWAY. Little did my sister know she had catapulted me into a love affair with an artist that would overshadow the last of my teens and my early twenties.

Prince had a lot to say, and in my impressionable 18-20’s  a lot of it really resonated with me. I began looking up his older stuff as well as anticipating new stuff – I loved him. I had Prince posters all over my room, which irritated my fairly racist father, but he never actually MADE me take them down, so I think that was a big step for him.

I got to see Prince in Detroit when he did his Purple Rain tour, and he was phenomenal. I’m so thankful I did that.

I lost touch with Prince’s music in my mid to late twenties, but I still loved his older stuff. And now that I’ve heard of his passing I’m feeling oddly emotional, and I suspect that’s because a piece of my young adulthood has died with him.

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