Prince and Me

On my eighth birthday, my brother bought me my first grown up record, Prince’s Purple Rain. Chris being five years older was my style and pop culture guru. I remember opening the magical record and immediately running upstairs to play it. I played it over and over again for weeks. That is until Darling Nikki came on during Saturday morning chore time. Over the roar of the vacuum, my father clued in to the lyrics. Let’s just say it didn’t go well.

Dad: What is that filth!!!!

Me: It’s my birthday present from Chris. (Wrong Answer)

Dad: Chris! Why would you buy that filth for your sister?

Chris: It’s just Prince.

Dad: Turn it off immediately!

I was too young and sheltered to understand what Prince was singing. My brother was too. Strangely, my father never took the record away. So, I went into hiding and played it when he wasn’t home. I was pretty adept at hiding contraband media. I watched Good Times and What’s Happening everyday, despite both shows being banned from our home.

Prince became an obsession of mine. He was so weird and small. I was always weird and small. He fascinated me with his confidence in his weirdness. I was always a bit of an outsider for various reasons and I felt like Prince was too. The next summer my Aunt Lucy invited me to visit her in Minneapolis. Prince was from Minneapolis, maybe I would see him. Maybe we would dance together.

Aunt Lucy planned a full week. She even found me a buddy. Shitona is the daughter of my Aunt’s friend Sharon. She was 12 and I was 8 and although our age difference was huge in kid years, we had a lot of fun swimming, going out to eat and canoeing.

The big excursion for the week was a trip to the amusement park. We were going as a big group with Angelique’s daughter Brooke. Angelique was another one of my Aunt’s friends. On our way to their house, my Aunt told us that Angelique’s boyfriend was the drummer in one of Prince’s protegé bands. He was driving us to the park. I didn’t know what to do with that information. It was overload. Too much. I would be 1 degree away from Prince. Shitona didn’t seem fazed with this new information. I guess growing up in Minneapolis Prince doesn’t faze you.

When we got to the house, I was nervous. I wanted my questions answered, but I tried to play it cool. Eventually I just asked about the band and Angelique showed me a copy of her boyfriend’s album. They were all dressed in fluorescent spandex. This really seemed promising.

Brooke and Shitona hit it off immediately. They sort of excluded me. Shitona was fascinated by Brooke and ready to drop me. Now, I was too young for her taste. I didn’t care, the drummer was coming with us. I tried to ask Brooke about him, but she just rolled her eyes. I didn’t care. He knew Prince, so how bad could he be. I was about to find out. The drummer finally showed up. I was less than impressed and Brooke was making fun of his outfit, almost to his face.  To be fair, she was right. He had a curly mullet, was wearing white jazz shoes, white nylon dress socks, red and white striped very short running shorts and a mesh tank top. With one look at this outfit, I had a hard time believing Prince hung out with this dude. 

Prince is not hanging out with jazz shoes.

Prince wears interesting costumes, but jazz shoes and white dress socks are not something he would approve of.  Anyway we got in Jazz Shoes gangster door, white sedan and drove to the park. When we got to the park, Brooke, Shitona and some of Brooke’s friends ditched. I was left with my Aunt and Jazz Shoes. I was embarrassed, not because the older girls ditched me, but because I was with a guy that knew my musical idol and he was wearing jazz shoes. The indignity of walking around an amusement park with a guy dressed like a reject from an Olivia Newton John video still burns decades later. What’s worse is he wouldn’t answer my questions about Prince. He seemed annoyed if I even mentioned his name. I got nothing for my embarrassment. 

It was a hard lesson to learn at eight. Even Prince has poorly dressed nerdy friends.