No need to worry, no need to cry
What did I say yesterday about turning back the clock?
Prince was one of the defining voices of my teenage years: he was school dances and long car rides to nowhere, MTV and Friday Night Videos, cassette tapes and Sony Walkmans. I was 14 when "Purple Rain" was released. I saw it in the theater over and over; once with my friends Kris and Meredith and—for some reason—our mothers. (My mother, true to her nature, fell asleep.) This world is out there, too, is what I heard in that music. Also, it's time to grow up.
My favorite thing about Prince was that he kept a home in Minnesota. Minnesota! Land of snow and lakes and Rose Nylund. People talk about the South all the time, or the coasts, as if they are magical, mythical, superior homelands, as if the strength of their pull and the spirit of their people exceeds all others. It isn't true, though. There's so much life and beauty in between.