Most celebrity deaths don’t affect me. Somehow this one punched me in the gut. My husband came downstairs for breakfast and asked if I’d heard: David Bowie died of cancer. He’d been sick for 18 months, and managed to keep it out of the news.
For a kid leading a pretty average life, I loved Bowie. I’ve had Ziggy Stardust running through my head all day. Really? Of all the lyrics, these are the ones I’m stuck with? Ah, well, we can’t always choose our memories.
Here’s a better one: I’ve been out running errands. Who knows what or where. Groceries? Target? As I enter the door from the driveway, a wall of sound greets me: Bowie blasting in the living room, and my children going about their business, at least one singing along.
So glad we introduced them way back when.
It’s the soundtrack of my youth: odd, confusing and a little bit crazy (the soundtrack, that is; not the youth. I was nothing if not well-behaved.)
Thanks, David Bowie. Much appreciated.