I grew up during a time when Whitney Houston was hailed as an American Princess. She was everything mothers wanted their daughters to be — vibrant, Christian, classy, beautiful and extraordinarily gifted.
My sister and I would sit in the back seat of our parent’s Buick Century singing along to Whitney hits whenever they came on the radio. And when listening to the budding superstar only on the radio didn’t suffice, my parents bought us every Whitney Houston cassette tape each time a new one was released.
I grew up in a household where my sister Charity swore she was Whitney Houston. Charity was (and still is) as thin as Whitney, roughly the same complexion, and shockingly, could belt out notes in a Whitney-esque way. She’d play our cassette tapes on our boom box, singing melodies from “Didn’t We Almost Have it All” and “Where Do Broken Hearts Go” that floated through our home every weekend.
The iconic album cover photo of a mid-20s Whitney - hair pulled back neatly, barely-there make-up, dainty string of pearls – hanged from our bedroom mirrors.
I grew up during a time when grade school teachers used lines from “The Greatest Love of All” as inspirational quotes…when The Bodyguard proved love knows no bounds and no color. A time when a perfect Star Spangled Banner performance left every American eye teary and made every heart swell with pride.
From the first “shoop” in Waiting to Exhale to the final episode of Being Bobby Brown, we’ve admired Whitney, and we’ve wished for her well-being. Awestruck by her charisma, megawatt smile, and effortless range, generations of music lovers kept her atop the charts.
Fans have emulated her fashion trends, sang her ballads at talent shows and pageants, rooted for her when she was down, and applauded her when she rose back to the top.
Now that I’m all grown up, I fully appreciate the impact Whitney had on music and on pop culture. I am nostalgic for a time when singers could really sing and being the “next big thing” meant you were genuinely a diamond in the rough. I miss times when classic songs like “I Will Always Love You” bridged generation gaps with harmonies and lyrics alone.
I grew up during a time when childhood heroes were as faultless at 48 as they were at 28 and being a hero meant that even life’s lowest lows were no match for true vigor. But spending a moment at Whitney Houston’s make-shift memorial outside the Beverly Hilton reminded me that childhood idols are just like the rest of us — merely mortal.
And while the Whitney we knew and loved has finally gotten her wings, her voice and legend will always live in our hearts and in the hearts of generations to come.
Whitney Houston 1963-2012
Read Also
Tweet
