Nippy.

Yesterday, I was in Wal-Mart with my family, searching for the cheapest 12-pack of toilet paper I could find when my phone started blowing the fuck up.  Texts, VMs, FB alerts - it was like my iPhone had the vibrating motor of a Rabbit.  As I held the industrial size pack of Angel Soft in one arm & dug through my purse for my phone with the other (I swear, Hoffa's body is probably at the bottom of my Tod's hobo bag!), I still couldn't find it so I kept moving.  Two hungry kids and a husband who hates germs = Kellee, get your ass in gear!

Once I got the cart parked in the school supplies section, I found my phone and saw the first of about 25 text messages: "Is it true about Whitney?  Is she really dead?".  My initial thought was, "Whatevs.  They just killed off Eddie Murphy last week & he's still around making bad movies. Pssh!".  But then I remembered it was Grammy weekend - Whit's whereabouts would be too well known for this to be a rumor.  I feverishly Googled "Whitney" and there it was...AP confirmed.

It took everything in me to hold back the tears & haul ass out of there with my list completed.  On the way home, I cried silently into a spitrag (fuck you, I'm a mom).  I went home, avoided all the news channels, cracked open a beer & put on the movie Take Me Home Tonight...and what was the first thing the 80s-inspired flick showed - immediately after the opening credits?  A poster of Whitney Houston.  AWESOME!!! (except not so much...)

All evening, I thought about all of my Whitney-influenced memories (and there's a shit ton of them).  The one that stood out was my first Whitney memory...

It was 1985 & I had just come home from another wicked day in first grade.  I wasn't that crazy about school - between the dreadful uniform and equally dreadful people, it was all I could do to jump out of my Grandma's Nova & get to her living room TV.  My mom & uncle got my grandparents cable for their anniversary but they never watched it.  If it wasn't Oprah, The Cubs or Charles Bronson, they weren't  much interested.   Since I had a few hours before he got home from work, I plopped myself in front of the TV with my homework, turned on MTV and I see Kurt Loder interviewing this woman with AWL this hair.  I mean, I thought it was Diana Ross at first...it was a lot of fucking hair!  The name "Whitney Houston" appeared under the screen and I thought she was some type of beauty queen.  I shrugged & started the grueling task of double-digit addition.  After a few minutes, I heard The Voice that would change me forever...

"...A feeeeew stolen moments/Is alllll that we shaaaare..."

That was pretty much the end of the game for me - I was mesmerized,  Before Whitney came along, I was all about Michael Jackson, Madonna & Cyndi Lauper.  That's it. Imagine my black ass, running around with the rainbow feathers from my grandfather's car air freshener in my hair singing 'She Bop".  Yes, a rarity on the South Side of Chicago, I know. I liked Tina Turner, Aretha Franklin & Diana Ross - but they were old ladies to me. Whitney was young & pretty - she looked like my mom, who I thought was the prettiest woman on Earth.  I had pop-bottle glasses and was missing at least 7 teeth.  Not so cute.  Whitney showed me glamour that I thought was attainable.  

I decided - right then & there - I was going to teach myself to sing like Whitney Houston.  Mind you, I had never sang a lick in my life but I was driven.  If I couldn't look like Whitney, I was going to sing like her.  My mom bought me her first two albums & I imitated exactly what I heard.  I recorded the albums onto a tape to take with me to my grandma's house so I could use her piano to play the notes I couldn't hit by ear.  I spent every weekend over the next few years perfecting all the intricacies of a Nippy performance:

• How she tapped the mic with her two middle fingers to keep time
• How she flourished the mic away from her to catch a long run
• How she quivered her chin when she hit the high C

Over the years, Whitney's addictions and fuckery-laden antics become more of the focus than the legendary talent she encompassed.  I'll admit, I've chuckled at my girl a few thousand times.  Hell, I have Being Bobby Brown on DVD.  However, I would be remiss if I didn't admit my full-fledged Stanship for her.  I would have never thought about singing if it wasn't for Whitney.  Embracing my voice boosted my self-esteem to the high levels you know of it today. :)  

I wish things could have ended differently for her.  (Allegedly) falling asleep & drowning in a bathtub after popping a few Xanax is NOT the business. I especially wish her daughter well - she is going through some Liza Minnelli shit right now that I don't wish on anyone.  If you recall your Diva History, Liza's mother Judy Garland was on a verge of a comeback (much like Whitney) and it ended tragically with her dead in a bathroom (just like Whitney).  Even though Liza is still in the building, she was certainly worse for the wear after her mother's death.  Cissy Houston has to bury her child - no one should have to go through that.

As for her Number One Fan (me!), I'll be OK.  Her music is embedded in me forever.  I know every Whitney song (the hits & the unreleased) by heart.  She is still The Queen of all Divas (except Aretha...because we Divas are required to say that.  Ask Beyonce.).  I don't regret turning on the TV that spring day back in '85.  If not, I'd probably still be trying to be Madonna and well, that's just no good for a Black chick.

Whitney is still the ultimate to me.  No one can hold a candle to her.  I raise a virtual Big Gulp Martini to her.  Here's to hoping she finds the peace she wasn't able to have on Earth.  I wish she was still here but it bees like that sometimes, I guess.  I could be trite & end this with my fave YouTube clip of one of her stellar performances, but I really can't bring myself to listen to the music right now.  I'm not sure I'll watch the Grammys tonight.  For now, I'll just hold on to that memory of my six-year-old self, discovering The Voice for the first time...