Prince passed away yesterday. My husband texted me and asked if I had heard the news.
His joke landed flat.
I told him to quit joking because it wasn’t funny.
Especially because it wasn’t a joke.
I grew up in the height of Prince’s celebrity, and followed his evolution as an artist. I lived in Minneapolis and in Chanhassen during his rise to stardom, so I’ve absorbed exposure to him through the air, through the water. A couple friends and I used to try and discover his Paisley Palace in the backwoods of Chanhassen, thinking we could catch a glimpse of the mysterious rock star.
You can’t live here, especially having been through the 80’s, and not feel some kind of hometown pride about him. He changed his name to a unpronouncable symbol as an act of defiance, people. You don’t just do that without earning props. His talent was legendary and his dedication to Minneapolis was undeniable.
These are my people y’all.
Death comes to us all, doesn’t it.
Too soon, too soon.