Inspired by the Marilyn moment when she famously sang to President Kennedy, I did a little rearrangement of the classic and sang soft and breathy at the top: “Happy birthday to you / Happy birthday to you / Happy birthday to the Greatest”—after which I moved into a big, vocal gospel-choir-type rendition. Of course I was honored to have the opportunity. However, I did not realize my singing to an icon, inspired by another icon, might have been a bit improper. You see, I was dressed in a simple icy-pink-silk short slip dress, and I did a few kitschy winks and shimmies during my performance. I was thinking, of course, Everyone is in on the reference. What I didn’t take into consideration was that Mr. Ali was Muslim, as were his wife and daughters. I also didn’t know, at the time, that Muslim women dress and act modestly.
Mr. Ali and his wife were seated in special chairs at the foot of the stage. As part of the performance, I was to walk down the stairs and sing right in front of him. I must have appeared to literally be in my underwear to him and his wife. The camera was cutting to him so the audience could see how animated he was, seemingly trying to get out of his chair with excitement—which at that stage in the progression of his Parkinson’s syndrome was not an easy task, but which also caused a delighted reaction from the audience (well, most of them). Thank God, during the performance I didn’t know I was being inappropriate to his family; none of the producers brought this small but significant religious-respect issue to my attention. You know, they could’ve just said, “Maybe tone down the cute kitten moves and bring the hem down a little—perhaps some sleeves would be nice?” I didn’t know. I truly hope the family forgave my youthful ignorance and inexperience.
Legends and heavy hitters like Angela Bassett and Diahann Carroll were there. At the end of my song, Will Smith was to stand on his other side, and he and I would help Mr. Ali walk up to the stage for a finale. All the presenters and performers were gathered, and there was a huge confetti drop, and I was on the arm of one of my absolute heroes. In all the festive mayhem, he leaned over and whispered in my ear, “You’re dangerous.” Mind you, he wasn’t talking very much at that point, but I heard him loud and clear. We both had a private laugh about it.
The man—the people’s champion, who knocked out some of the toughest men in the world and knocked down some of the toughest racial barriers—used his precious breath to joke with me that I was dangerous. After that experience, proclaiming a moment legendary elevated it to a whole new weight class.-Stevie-
“What color are the lights on the Christmas tree? What do they look like?” I overheard Stevie Wonder ask his brother as he led him through the MGM Grand. We were both there for the Billboard Music Awards. He had come to present me with the Artist of the Decade award. Of all the musicians and all the music I’ve been inspired by, Stevie Wonder would have to be my favorite. As a writer and composer he is a deep diver. He goes all the way to the floor of his soul and brings back treasures so vivid, so full of emotion, they sonically shift your composition. And as a singer, he delivers with complete honesty and heart. He is truly my diamond standard.
I have had the privilege to work with him a few times. Once, he even played me some new material he was working on and asked my opinion. One of the greatest songwriters ever casually let me listen to his work and was genuinely interested in my feedback—as a musician. A musical moment I will always treasure was an ad-lib he did on my song “Make It Look Good” on Me. I am Mariah … The Elusive Chanteuse. Right at the very beginning, he says or plays, “I love you, Mariah” through his harmonica! And then laughs his sweet, brilliant, healing laugh, and then the song begins. It was like a little blessing before the meal. He played his distinctive harmonica throughout the whole thing, as only Stevie Wonder can.
I often think about that moment when he asked about the Christmas lights on the tree. This man who has brought so much pure joy to people all around the globe, spanning generations, through the power of his incredible musical contribution—a man who has lit up the world with his presence and his songs, a man who has done so much for humanity—was asking to have a twinkle described to him. In that moment, “Mr. Wonder-full” showed me how not to take the simple things for granted and confirmed a Christmas tree can bring happiness, seen and unseen, as long as it is made from love.
When I received the Billboard’s Artist of the Decade award, I declared, “Now I can be who I really am,” because I had just finished the Rainbow album and was on my road to emancipation. Receiving that recognition was a huge accomplishment, yet what I received from Stevie Wonder transcends statues, accolades, and all decades.-Prince-
Prince gave me a Bible, bound in deep-brown leather, with gold embossed letters. I still have that holy book, sent to me from
