Still enough time to figure out how to chase my blues away

13 02 2012

Whitney Houston helped create a sweet moment in the West Village.

It was a couple of years ago at a Pride parade, near the end of the route, and the crowd was trying not to wilt beneath a high sun. We were near the end of the route, in the Village, there had been a long delay, and the paraders were halted in the street.

Finally, the line began moving, and the floats with the grinding men and booming music renewed their pulse past us. At one point, a float playing this song motored through.

I’m not now nor have I ever been much of a Whitney fan—too slick, too poppy, too produced—but on that one day, this sweet confection made me grin.

As the float floated past and the music floated away, the crowd took over the chorus, and all of us lined on both sides of the streets serenaded one another, Oh, I want to dance with somebody, with somebody who loves me.

A perfect moment in a parade for people who had long been told not to love. Here we all were, claiming that song, that love, for ourselves.

Thank you, Whitney.

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