I have largely avoided this topic. Avoided the tumultuous media hype surrounding it. Ignored the haters and racists who've jumped on the nasty bandwagon of self-righteousness regarding it. And I've been just privately sad.
I have one stellar memory of Whitney, and it's certainly an improbable one. On April 20, 1991, I had mid-section seats with friends in section 32 of Rupp Arena in Lexington, Kentucky for the 3rd date of her "I'm Your Baby Tonight" World Concert tour. The opening act was nothing worth remembering, but her performance was amazing. Before she began, it was announced that she "wasn't feeling well, but insisted on performing anyway" and throughout she never missed a beat.
Isn't that the best part of memory? We so easily discover in it that time sands off the rough edges and leaves us with only a smooth, silky impression.
Whitney left us abruptly with too many jagged questions. Speculations that disturb me and disservice her great vulnerable gift to us all. Perhaps we can even describe her entire career as one of a person who didn't feel well, but went on stage to dazzle her fans anyway.
I hope that grace becomes her portion in perpetuity. I hope that we learn to forgive one another our weaknesses even as we come to deal with the demons of our own hearts, so that all that remains in our esteem of others is the gift: the goodness, the generosity, and the glitter!
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