This is about Celine Dion. But please, bear with me.
She ended her show in Las Vegas, said her good-byes and apparently cried a bit. All this Celine attention is taking me back.
Remember
when she was just so darn big? Way back in the “Titanic days.” We heard,
time and again, her story: roraied in poverty in Quebec, voice of an
angel, gets a manager as a young teen, and (this is where we all start
to squirm) falls in love with said manager, career goes pretty well,
sings hit theme ballad to hit cloying love story movie and for years –
literally years – her big nasally voice played on a loop inside our heads,
near, far, wherever we were? Remember?
And some people loved her, they just loved her. Read this for a taste of that crazy.
But
this is not my good-bye to Celine Dion, because I never cared for her
music or her voice or her uplifting life tale, rags to riches, all
that. Never had a burning desire to see her show in Vegas. Ever. This
isn’t about Celine the entertainer.
This is about how I still give her bits of my attention, because we have a connection, me and Celine:
Read More...
