I first heard her angelic voice in May of 1986 in Frankfurt, Germany as I sat in the reception room of the Ambassador Arms Hotel and watched as the American soldiers gathered around the big screen television. "Who is she?" I asked of the fellow next to me. He looked at me in total amazement and said, “You haven’t heard of Whitney Houston, where have you been Timbuctoo?" “As a matter of fact, I have,” I said.
Isolated from American television for two years in Africa I had missed the Whitney Houston wave that had spread across America. When my flight left Germany for New York I could not get her voice out of my head. When I arrived in South Carolina my adopted cousin handed me her copy of the album simply titled Whitney and for the first time I listened to the complete works of a very young, gifted, and beautiful woman. My first CD was of Whitney singing the National Anthem.
The news of her death from Fox News came as a great shock to me because I believed the reports that she had turned a corner and was getting better. I gave my wife her last album as a Valentine’s Day present last year and she was deeply moved by her song, “I Look to You.” No, this is not the time for second guessing what killed Whitney Houston at the age of 48. My dear brother, James Earl Metze, Jr., died at 49. This is a time to say thank you Whitney for your music that cheered our hearts and made us cry.
When my son was born on August 3, 1987 my father and I spent hours in the waiting room. I was worried about my wife and son as the hours passed and the baby would not come. Worried about the child and the complications in the birth, I knelt to pray by my wife’s bedside and then I heard the voice of Whitney Houston sing, “The Children are our future.” My wife had a healthy child that day. Thank you Whitney and may your soul rest in peace. And we will always love you.
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