Alphabet: A History (O)
Oh, Oh Child
It's spring 1997 and I've just discovered Nina Simone. I'm in a play with an all-girl cast one of the other girls, Amy, is a big Nina Simone fan. She talks about her the way she talks about her sex life: with equal parts reverence and total fascination.
"I like to wear silk vintage nightgowns, turn on a little Nina Simone and screw my boyfriend's brains out!" she proudly professes during rehearsal one evening. "We made a pact to do it every single day this year, and so far we're right on track."
I drive to Barnes and Noble that weekend and buy my first Nina album: Nina Sings the Blues. It has a a green and red floral design on the cover with a black and white photo of a young Nina Simone staring into the camera almost vacantly. The picture stands in stark contrast to the music inside: the anger, the passion, the humor, the confidence.
I turn my roommate on to Nina Simone and we have livingroom dance parties at our place. Our favorite song to dance to is "Buck."
Buck, you're a whole lot a man. Just take a look at your great big hands. You know you could crush poor me in two. But gentle, oh so gentle are the things you do.
Sometimes our friend Leslie comes over and the three of us dance around and belt that song out. Sometimes it feels like if we can sing loud enough and dance hard enough, we might able to freeze time.
In the summer, I get a car and I immediately make cassette tape copies of my Nina albums (I have two now) so I can listen to them while I drive. I like the way "Sugar in my Bowl" sounds when I'm driving slow on a hot day with my windows down. I want to live in a house with a porch where I can sit on a swing all afternoon fanning myself and drinking cool lemonade and listening to "Sugar in the Bowl" over and over.
The next summer I have a boyfriend. I introduce him to Nina Simone and he's an instant fan. He buys all her albums — he buys me ones I don't own yet. One morning, following a fight we had the night before, I find a new Nina album on my doorstep. It's got the song "Ooh Child," on it, which is one of my favorites of hers. "Things are gonna get easier" the note attached reads.
One day, a few weeks later, my boyfriend says if we ever break up, he'll never be able to listen to Nina Simone without thinking of me.
"Are you saying we're gonna break up?" I ask. He shrugs his shoulders.
In Chicago a few years later I finally get to see Nina in concert. Leslie lives in Chicago now, too, and she comes with me. I have a new boyfriend, but he doesn't like Nina, so Leslie comes to the concert instead. Our seats are in the back of the Chicago Theater — they were the only ones we could afford — but I don't care. I can still make out Nina's blue dress and the way she's wearing her hair.
Between songs, she has two young gorgeous men in tuxedos — one black man, one white man — escort her back and forth across the stage so she can wave this thing she keeps calling a "real horse tail." For all I know, she's telling the truth. She waves it up and down and in big, wide circles. She insists we stand up and applaud her and she swings that horse tail around and around, gesturing for us to "get up! get up! Stand up on your feet and clap!"
I think of that day when she dies two years later. I wish I could have made time freeze.
I think you meant to start off with 1997, not 2007. Nina died in 2003. Nice post though.
Posted by: Pam | May 04, 2010 at 03:46 PM
You're right; thanks.
Posted by: citywendy | May 04, 2010 at 04:30 PM
Oh, Nina...the biggest regret of my life is not seeing her. I still blame Christian Felix for that - TWICE, he was supposed to get tickets for her TWO Chicago performances over the course of a year or so, I think. And he FLAILED BOTH TIMES. My fault for trusting him the second time. Not long after she was in Chicago this last time, I had a weird daydream in the shower. I lived with my dear friend (in Lincoln Square) at the time, and told her about my weird "vision"..."Nina died in my daydream just now.." 2 days later, sadly, Nina really DID die.
I highly recommend her autobiography, "I Put a Spell on You", too, if you've not read it yet. And I will now put to rest this epic comment of mine. Whew.
Thanks for this great post and your amazing writing, Wendy. I love this series of yours.
Posted by: Darby | May 26, 2010 at 02:38 PM