I loved running in to my next door neighbor last night out among the trick or treaters in our neighborhood, mostly because he’s a cool, laid back guy with a Mississippi drawl who always has something interesting to share from the realm of throwback music or television and so is just fun, but also because he was done up for Halloween and his getup was perfect.
He was Prince, ala Purple Rain. Purple jacket, ruffle shirt, wig–the whole deal. But he’d added his own touch. He carried a basketball. Having no idea why he was carrying a basketball around trick or treating, I complimented it. “The ball’s a nice touch.” His eyes lit up. “Right?” he said. “I’m glad you got that. Nobody else gets it.”
Uhhh . . .
I played along. “Really? Oh man!” I was caught too far off base on this and was about to be picked off, until another neighbor saved me by admitting her ignorance and just asking what the basketball signified.
“Because that guy could ball, man!”
I didn’t say anything else, but I nodded along as if I knew that, as if everybody knew that.
It’s a thing. Prince was an amazing basketball player.
Of course my neighbor knows that.
Doesn’t everyone know that?