Aretha Franklin delivered a lifetime of inspiration
Growing up in Bolivar, about an hour west of Memphis on Highway 64, Aretha Franklin serenaded my sisters and me most Saturdays as we did our chores. My father, in addition to his job, had a small appliance and record shop. We always had the latest music, with Aretha being our favorite.
In 1967, when she won her first two Grammys for “Respect,” we danced around the house with broom and hair brush microphones while singing, “R-ES-P-E-C-T! Find out what it means to me! . . . Take care of TCB!” My father sold a lot of her records.
After Dr. Martin Luther King was assassinated in 1968, we gathered around the television and, with sadness, watched Aretha perform “Precious Lord” at his funeral. Dr. King was a close friend of Aretha’s father, the wellknown Rev. C. L. Franklin (whose gospel recordings we sold at the record shop). And Dr. King often was a guest in their Detroit home, as were Mahalia Jackson, Sam Cooke, Smokey Robinson and Diana Ross.
Aretha and her soulful, four-octave vocals inspired me on through high school and college. Yes, I felt like “A Natural Woman,” danced to “Chain of Fools,” hummed along with “I Say a Little Prayer,” and tried to “Rock Steady” despite the obstacles. I felt she was one of us with her African attire, minidresses and go-go boots, complemented with bushy ’fros and head wraps. She was a church girl, but also hip, hot and a true soul sister. And then Aretha’s soulstirring Amazing Grace album (1972) blessed me with the richness and sincerity of her gospel.
Years later, I was thrilled by Aretha’s comeback performance of “Think” in the 1980 “Blues Brothers” film. At Ebony in Chicago, I did a story on the Queen when she came to town to Christmas shop. Ms. Franklin (she called me “Miss Norment”) didn’t ride airplanes; she traveled to Chicago on a luxury bus. I soon discovered she didn’t like elevators and escalators either. She’d get on an elevator to a restaurant, then rush off. When we finally made it to the second floor, she insisted we go down again. At another restaurant, she attempted to step onto an escalator, but just couldn’t put her foot down. I felt her frustration. We were both starving and ended up going back to her hotel to talk over lunch. Soon after the interview, I was invited to Ms. Franklin’s lauded Christmas party.
This week, I was saddened by Ms. Franklin’s passing. It was as though I’d lost a longtime friend. I had rejoiced when she became the first woman inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, and when Rolling Stone named her the No. 1 singer of all time. I was awed when the pop, soul, R&B and gospel diva aced a last-minute performance of the opera “Nessun Darma” at the 1998 Grammys. And I was so proud when she performed for the pope or president, especially when she sang a soulful version of “My Country ‘Tis of Thee” during President Barack Obama’s inauguration. It was such a fitting moment. The Queen, who had supported Dr. King and given us a civil rights anthem with “Respect,” was performing at the inauguration of the first black president of the United States. Again, I was teary.
Yes, tears are appropriate for this incredible woman who achieved and contributed so much and made so many of us happy with her music. Yet there was a tinge of sadness about her life’s journey. Aretha Franklin grew up in a broken home, had two children while in her teens (four children total), and a number of marriages and romances that didn’t work out. Early in her life she battled addictions to cigarettes and alcohol, and, like so many, she constantly dealt with depression and weight issues.
Ms. Franklin, my dear sister Aretha, we are thankful that you blessed us with your incredible gifts, your astounding voice and indomitable spirit. We will never love another the way we loved you.
Lynn Norment is a Memphis journalist who previously was an editor and reporter for Ebony magazine. She can be reached at normentmedia@gmail.com