"That's Whit, Mama!"

"As I lay me down, Heaven, hear me now. I'm lost without a cause after giving it my all...'Bout to lose my breath; there's no more fighting left. Sinking to rise no more; searching for that open door. Every road I've taken led to my regret...Don't know if I'm gonna' make it...." -  lyrics, Whitney Houston, "I Look To You," 2009    

I am having a hard time letting Whitney Houston go, which surprises me because usually I'm not much of a (Hollywood) star gazer. Part of it has to do with the fact that Whitney  provided much of the sound track for a very happy time in my life.

It was the mid-'80s through early '90s and life was good. I was happily married, still hot, and the mother of two cute, wonderful, music-loving children. I was gainfully employed  serving humanity at the Planned Parenthood Clinic in Boulder, CO (only birth control, no abortions there) and my co-workers were an inspiring, spirited, dedicated bunch of single women, young mothers and old feminists. 

Whitney burst onto the scene in 1985 - fresh, feminine, talented, fashionable and oh! that voice. After coming up under the tyranny of old school feminism which meant no bras, no hose, no leg shaving, no makeup, no hair styles, Houston was the breath of fresh air young women like me needed. She was sweet, yet sexy; pretty, yet powerful; innocent, yet knowing; savvy and successful.

No wonder we instantly embraced her hair styles, makeup, moves and learned all the words to her songs. She inspired us; she moved us; she (after the hard work of the feminists was accomplished) set us free. Finally, we had a reason to shave our legs, wear high heels, pastels, tight clothes and perm our hair again! I remember those days vividly.

Me and my kids danced to Whitney's songs while I made dinner or fixed breakfast or for no reason at all. I crimped my daughter's hair and put big bows in it, a la Whitney, and, yes, will admit, did the same things to my own hair.

Houston's songs were featured on our "work day play list" at the clinic. I remember one day a little girl and her mother were sitting in the waiting room and one of Whitney's songs came on. The little girl hopped up, cried, "That's Whit, Mama!" and started dancing with such joy, enthusiasm and abandon I felt sure she, like "Whit," would be a big star someday. Could that have been Jennifer Hudson or Alicia Keyes in our waiting room? Probably not, but it's a lovely thought to entertain...

After the clinic closed, we would crank up and dance to "Whit's" debut hit, "How Will I Know?" as we cleaned, mopped the floors and emptied the trash. It seemed appropriate; after all, at a Planned Parenthood clinic in a college town, how did anybody know...?

And, so, thanks to M-TV (does anyone remember those videos?) and her marvelous voice, we ALL fell in love with Whitney Houston. There was a joy, clarity and power in her voice that, given her Gospel background, seemed to be a gift straight from God. And, the joy she clearly took in sharing that gift, well, another blessing, right there.

In those days, she was the talented, yet accessible goddess/diva we all wished we had been born to be - huge voice, beautiful body, warm open smile, and having so much fun in such a mischievous way...

There was "I Wanna' Dance With Somebody (I Love)," "Saving All My Love For You," "Greatest Love of All," "Where Do Broken Hearts Go," "Didn't We Almost Have It All," "I'm Your Baby Tonight," and, of course, who hasn't shed a tear and wished for a love so true as her inspired 1992 performance of Dolly Parton's "I Will Always Love You" in the film "The Body Guard?" One voice, three octaves, magical...

In those days, she was the diva divine and then came the spiral, the substance abuse driven downward spiral into destruction and despair that ultimately took her voice, her talent and her life. Why does this happen to so many artists? How does so much joy turn into so much sorrow? 

"Whit" died on Feb. 11, unconscious in a bathtub at the Beverly Hilton Hotel; she was 48. The probable cause of her death was an unfortunate cocktail of prescription drugs, stress and/or depression, plus alcohol...A line I read and remembered in the massive media coverage that followed her death was, "She broke hearts and was herself broken."

That, to me, is another part of Houston's appeal, for who among us hasn't broken a heart or two and yet also been broken? She was perfect; she was flawed; she inspired us. So, rest in peace, "Whit," and may your voice find it's rightful place among the angels' voices in Heaven; God speed.  

Lorin Sinn-Clark is a writer for the Barrow Journal. She can be reached at lorin@barrowjournal.com.