Now It's Time To Leave The Capsule If You Dare

by Stacey Jaros

Jeff: "Oh no." I heard something disconcerting in his tone of voice. Me: "What?" Jeff: "You're not going to like this news. It's all over Twitter that David Bowie died." Me: "Are you sure? Friday was his birthday. Lots of people were wishing him happy birthday. He has a new video, Lazarus. Maybe people are talking about that?" Jeff: *BBC article* Me: *ears ringing* "Uh oh. I'm actually light-headed." I cannot believe it.

In the 70's I was playing at a friend's house and she showed me her closet door, which had been signed by David Bowie. Her step-dad was some kind of music executive and somehow Bowie visited their Westchester home, and signed that little girl's closet door. She started to explain something like, "He's a singer." I didn't even let her finish. "Oh I know who he is." I recall very clearly my mind swimming with thoughts of the characters of David Bowie, all 'attractive' to me (whatever that meant to my probably eleven-year-old self).

I cannot shake the image of the poster that hung on my wall throughout me teens. It was an image from the Serious Moonlight Tour. I had a pair of red pumps that once I saw the almost identical ones in his "Let's Dance" video I never wanted to take off.

I cannot reconcile the current issue of Rolling Stone, dated Jan. 14 which hasn't even occurred yet, which sits in my "reading room." It contains a glowing review of the just-released Black⭐️ and yet the reality is David Bowie ceases to join us in this plane. Which begs the question, did he ever join us in this plane? Did he merely hover near, and sometimes through, our world? I'd like to think his soul continues to travel in some kind of Space Oddity, spreading glitter and wisdom along its path. His art, in so many forms, is a gift to us.

So rest in peace, Thin White Duke, Ziggy Stardust, Jareth, all of you. Thank you for teaching us to be heroes, forever and ever.