Purple Rain by Prince

In this episode I get into a story that led me to discover my favorite lines from Purple Rain, by the musical genius, Prince Rogers Nelson. 

Transcript

Love Lines from ‘Purple Rain’ by Prince

From the moment I met Sherrie, I knew referring to her as a die-hard Prince fan was a genuine understatement. She casually inserted the artist into just about every discussion. She talked about the awards show he’d been on and how “fine” he looked. As a 16-year-old girl I struggled to wrap my head around that last part, but I could NEVER tell her that!

Sherrie accumulated an abundance of Prince memorabilia over the years. She had piles of t-shirts, purple key chains, posters, vinyl albums, mugs, and random knickknacks displaying the singer’s symbol. Her teenage fetish did not fade.

Of course, Sherrie was devastated when Prince died on April 21, 2016—less than a week after celebrating her birthday. I called to offer condolences just as you do when someone loses a family member. “Girl, I can’t even process this right now,” she said. It was during this conversation I learned my childhood friend not only viewed Prince as the musical genius we all do, she also wanted to be with him. Romantically. He was her fantasy husband.

When Paisley Park opened to the public six months later, Sherrie asked if I wanted to meet her in Minnesota and visit the museum. She was going whether I joined or not. Always one who jumps at the chance for a new experience, especially when its music related, I accepted the invitation. We both flew in from the west coast, me from Las Vegas and her from Los Angeles. 

In our hotel room the night before we were to make the 20-minute drive from Minneapolis to Chanhassen, Sherrie asked me Prince questions. She assumed I was a fan, or at least informed. Because who isn’t? The man is a certified legend with no equals.

I am a fan, of music, of brilliance, and creativity. I respect the hell out of Prince as an artist and recognize him as a cultural icon. However, I’d never gotten into his music. Not because it didn’t resonate with me. But because I hadn’t heard much of it.

Quick personal history. I grew up in a strict, religious household where I wasn’t allowed to listen to secular music. Once I came of age and no one could really stop me from listening, I tuned my stereo to the local hip-hop and R&B station and bought CDs featuring artists all the other teenagers were listening to. I was playing 2Pac, TLC, Aaliyah, and Whitney Houston. Grown-folks music like that which Prince sang went over my head. It passed me by, and I would never catch up.

“What’s your favorite Prince song,” Sherrie asked as we slid into separate full-sized beds.

“Hmmmm…. Probably ‘Diamonds and Pearls’ or ‘Betcha by Golly Wow!’”

Her mouth dropped open. ‘Betcha by Golly Wow!’ isn’t even his song!”

I giggled. “It’s not?”

“Please tell me you’ve seen Purple Rain.” She was offering me a shot at redemption.

“Nah, I haven’t.”

Sherrie rolled over, turning her back toward me in the dramatic fashion that had become her modus operandi. “Oh my goshhhh…I can’t with you!”

I didn’t understand the big deal. The movie was released when I was four years old. To me, it was more shocking that someone my age had seen it!

The next morning, we visited Prince landmarks on our way to Paisley Park, including the music note mural Sherrie told me he took an iconic photo in front of. The day was like sitting at a desk inside Prince Rogers Nelson University. The museum was fascinating. Getting to see his piano, purple furniture, and recording studio was surreal. 

I returned home and watched Purple Rain. The title track was a song I’d heard before in passing, but never really listened to. In doing so, I fell in love with the classic. Mostly for its guitar solo and screaming at the end. But also, for these lines:

Honey I know, I know, I know times are changing
 It's time we all reach out for something new
 That means you too

We cling to familiar love even when the person embodying it becomes a stranger. We’re afraid to let go and venture into the unknown. Afraid we’ll never love again. Afraid to love again because it might also end, again. 

When in this space, I remind myself that love, like joy is not a finite resource. If open to receiving, both will always find us again. There is enough for everyone to hold plenty. Don’t be afraid to reach for something new.

Sherrie succumbed to complications from cancer in 2021. Her obituary was purple. The balloons we released after it all were purple. She was wearing a Prince t-shirt in several memorializing photographs. And though I am not religious and don’t subscribe to any fantastical ideas about the afterlife, I will let myself believe she is dancing in the purple rain.