Lenny Kravitz - Let Love Rule

On the small bandstand of a cellar jazz club, where the air is thick with smoke and the lights are low, John Coltrane commands his rhythm section. With a gentle nod of his head, he sets an achingly slow groove. Elvin Jones effortlessly works his whisper-quiet brushes. McCoy Tyner plays a subtle piano intro. Bassist Jimmy Garrison provides a gentle heartbeat. Then Coltrane, breathing deeply, exhales into his horn. The sound of his tenor sax is startlingrich, lush, sultry.

At a corner table, a self-assured Jewish man looks into the eyes of a beguiling Afro-Caribbean woman.

Shes my mother, Roxie Roker, and hes my dad, Sy Kravitz.

Dads a thirty-nine-year-old journalist-producer for NBC News at 30 Rockefeller Center, in the heart of Midtown Manhattan. Years before, he started out as a page in this same building before working his way up. Hes a self-starter. A former Army Green Beret who saw action in the Korean War, hes also a member of the Reserve. His parents, Joe and Jean Kravitz, live in Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn, with many other Jews of Russian descent.

Dads divorced with two daughters. He lives alone in a $350-a-month one-bedroom apartment at 5 East Eighty-Second Street, just off Central Park on the Upper East Side. A graduate of New York University, hes a sharp dresser and a consummate charmer. He loves music, especially jazz, and theater. He has his artistic side, but its overpowered by order and discipline.

Its at 30 Rock where he meets Roxie Roker, age thirty-four. My mom is a soulful, deeply elegant person. An Alpha Kappa Alpha sorority member and drama major, she graduated from Howard University with honors before studying at the Shakespeare Institute at Stratford-upon-Avon, England, and joining a theater company in Copenhagen. She performs in Off-Broadway productions and supports herself working as an assistant to a high-ranking NBC boss. Shes the ultimate executive secretary: efficient and graceful in every manner.

She has inherited the work ethic of her parents. Her Bahamian father, a self-made man, and her Georgia-born mother, who works as a domestic, own the home where she was raised in Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn.

Roxie has never dated a white man before. But its not my fathers skin color that bothers her. Its the fact that they work in the same office. Shes also a little uneasy knowing hes been married and divorced. And the fact that he doesnt seem very close to his daughters. She is skeptical of his nature.

Dad takes Mom to a Broadway revival of The Crucible; they catch Thelonious Monk at the Five Spot; they see Alvin Ailey at City Center; they hear Langston Hughes read at the 92nd Street Y. Sy and Roxie are kindred spirits. Hes determined to win her affection.

You see, now that hes found the most beguiling woman in New York City, Sy is confident. Roxie is intrigued and flattered by all the attention. Shes delighted to have someone trek downtown to see her act in avant-garde plays. Shes 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, its a deal breaker. He agrees, and despite his trepidation, a bond is forged.

In an alchemical way, Sys and Roxies dreams meld. They fall head over heels. He proposes. The next night, my mom goes to the Caf 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 dont see anyone else asking.

The wedding is a humble affair that Dads 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.