Dearest Elton,
I realize you receive fan mail from star struck individuals
boasting of your talent and complementing you on your lively use of velvet
attire and that dangling cross earring you sometimes wear in your right ear,
but this – this is different. This is to confess a love that far
surpasses that sappy, boy band keenness those other yanks think they feel. Allow me to elaborate… When asked a
cheesy life question pertaining to whom you’d choose to dine, chat or meet with
if given the opportunity, I forgo the typically stockpile Gandhi, Jesus, or
lost friend answers and choose you. Because, quite honestly – aren’t you
all of the above?
As a young child, I heard my mother play all of your albums
in her gold Cutlass Ciera, or the “Cut Dog” as we coined it. I watched as her mood gradually shifted
from frustrated, single mother of three to a woman singing “Your Song” with
uncharted ambition, desire and a full heart. To be fair, we all felt the magic, but I suppose you are
well aware of the powerful, strongholds your music has on one’s emotions. Personally, as a young, twenties something
with no notable music background, I think that’s what you do best. You play for people who “keep it turned
on”. You play to inspire, to create
connections, and I hope to reflect your own personality - because that’s what
I’ve come to believe. When Diana
died, I thought I knew her.
Because I thought I knew you, and “Candle in the Wind” contributed more
tears than the divorce of my parents, or the accidental burning of my Barney
pillow. Your music allowed me to
feel a connection to a world I knew little about. It continually challenged me to play piano sheet music that
clearly surpassed my mediocre skills, forced me to belt out “Levon” – though I
didn’t know the full meaning of longing and desperation present in the lyrics,
and proved to be the root of a lifelong mockery as I once mistook the chorus to
Tiny Dancer for “hold me close I’m trying to dance here”. Be it intentional or an accidental
correlation, you consistently proved to be there through the challenging moments
of a young life in transition.
That’s love, friend. A love
I still have found no match to.
There was, in honesty, a brief moment when I took into great
consideration your preferred gender.
However, that instant quickly faded as my deep, unrequited love rushed
to barricade all rationality and typicality from entering into the dark corners
of my small brain function. I was,
and remain, a young girl in love.
So, despite those other guys and gals in line, I like to think you’d
choose me in the long run. Or, at
the very least, maybe pencil me into that little black book of lovers. It’s going to happen - if only for one
night.
Civic Center. Charleston, West Virginia. Wednesday night. Be there with your red shoes on.
Civic Center. Charleston, West Virginia. Wednesday night. Be there with your red shoes on.
Cap
xx
