The Flame Has Died

Say it isn't so. James Brown passed away at a hospital in Columbia SC at around 1:30 a.m. Isn't it just like the greatest showman who ever shook a stage to go out by trying to upstage the 'King of Kings' on his B'day. But I ain't mad at James and I'm going to miss him.

My memories of James Brown go back to my childhood days in Miami when Miami Beach held court to the likes of Frank Sinatra. The glitzy hotels and nightclubs though they were only a few miles over the causeway from my neighborhood, might as well have been the moon. But when James Brown's tour buses rumbled into town even the air seem to

get heavy with funk. I could only dream of what power this Black man must have that allowed him to shake and shimmy across the stages in the night clubs of those grand hotels.

Over the years, that soul and spirit never seemed to diminish no matter what the man did . His run-ins with Southern lawmen, drug use and questionable choices for female companionship threatened to make the legend a parody of himself and endangered his rightful status as an icon. He was only human after all and time and time again seemed hell bent on extinguishing the heat of his famous flame. But nothing he did or what others said about him could topple him from the throne he had crafted with hard work and amazing talent. He will never be equaled.

Thank you James for the sweaty nights on the dance floor when my hips jerked and gyrated to, "Get up, get on up. Stay on the scene like a sex machine!" Thank you for the pride I felt every time I heard, "Say it loud, I'm Black and I'm Proud."
Thanks for Making it Funky. RIP