Let Love Rule - Lenny Kravitz Page 0,1
now that he’s found the most beguiling woman in New York City, Sy is confident. Roxie is intrigued and flattered by all the attention. She’s delighted to have someone trek downtown to see her act in avant-garde plays. She’s taken by his enthusiasm and perseverance, qualities that her own father taught her to appreciate.
Mom has dreams and ambitions. She is a bright young star: a talented, trained actress and a person of passion and poise. She suggests and later insists that Sy reach out to his two daughters and reconnect with them. For her, it’s a deal breaker. He agrees, and despite his trepidation, a bond is forged.
In an alchemical way, Sy’s and Roxie’s dreams meld. They fall head over heels. He proposes. The next night, my mom goes to the Café Carlyle, on Madison Avenue, to consult with her dear buddy Bobby Short, the iconic cabaret singer and pianist. What does he think about her marrying Sy?
In his grand manner, Short responds, “Well, I don’t see anyone else asking.”
The wedding is a humble affair that Dad’s parents, heartbroken that their son is marrying a Black woman (and a gentile to boot), refuse to attend. It takes my birth to bring them around. I love knowing that without doing a thing except existing, I bring peace to my family.
GEMINI
I am deeply two-sided: Black and white, Jewish and Christian, Manhattanite and Brooklynite.
My young life was all about opposites and extremes. As a kid, you take everything in stride. So, I accepted my Gemini soul. I owned it. In fact, I adored it. Yins and yangs mingled in various parts of my heart and mind, giving my life balance and fueling my curiosity, giving me comfort.
Though nightmares haunted me throughout childhood, once I was awake, I was ready to go. Awake and alive. Looking to explore. Looking for adventure. Many people remember their early years filled with trauma. Despite the drama and dysfunction I will regale you with, my story is not one born of darkness. My youth was filled with joy, and I was surrounded by what felt like endless, unconditional love. From my mother, from a dozen glamorous godmothers, from grandparents, from neighbors who felt like aunts and uncles, from sisters and cousins and friends who became my chosen family.
My father cared for me deeply as well, but it took me a while to realize it. He didn’t know how to show me affection, and our relationship was strained because we were just so different. He lived in a framework of extreme discipline. I ran free. I was born messy and feral, like most little kids. Dad hated clutter and would scold me at the sight of a single toy left on the floor.
The thing is, the discipline never took. He was stubborn, and so was I. That quality we shared. I had a kind of rambunctious will that couldn’t be locked down. He had the kind of authority that couldn’t be challenged. Dad and I worked toward deeply disparate goals with equal fervor. Our differences would only deepen as time went on. It is only in recent years that I have begun to understand our incredible similarities. I am so grateful for his place in my life. He never ran out on me. He was there at critical times, offering me critical help. Our impasses were epic, but, as a result, I grew stronger. I simply would not be who I am today without those power struggles. As ugly as our battles became, they were an education. I had to go through Dad to become me.
* * *
Mom was and is my heart. It was Mom who hung the poster over my bed that read, “War Is Not Healthy for Children and Other Living Things.” It was also Mom who painted the peace sign on my cheek and proudly walked me through antiwar marches in Central Park. Naturally, I didn’t get the political implications, but I loved the excitement of the crowd singing “Give Peace a Chance.” I felt like I was in the midst of an important moment. I felt protected by the goodness that radiated from Mom without her even having to try.
Her first form of protection was to make sure I knew who and where I was, in the most physical sense. To do that, she taught me my very first song. It had a sweet melody. I sang, “Leonard Albert Kravitz is my name. And I live at 5 East Eighty-Second Street in New York