Friday | A Taste of Flava

A Familiar Name Opened a Beautiful Memory

Dear Friends,

Yesterday, a familiar name appeared on my phone at work and immediately made me think of one of my favorite singers, Jeffrey Osborne.

For one quick second, the Lady Flava in me wanted to ask:

“Are you my favorite singer?” 🤣

Of course, professional Susan stayed professional.

But that little moment opened the door to a beautiful memory from more than 20 years ago.

It was Valentine’s Day 2003.

A man named E. took me to see Jeffrey Osborne perform at the Emerald Queen Casino.

After the concert, we went to Salty’s restaurant, where we heard Korla Wygal.

It was music, dinner, romance, and a beautiful night in Seattle.

To this day, it remains the best Valentine’s Day I have ever had.

E. used to come visit me at Flava Coffee House. He was a nice man, but I always sensed a deep sadness within him.

Sometimes you can enjoy someone’s company and still recognize that the two of you are not meant to become deeply connected.

I had a wonderful time that Valentine’s Day. If I am honest, I’m not sure E. enjoyed it in the same way I did. He seemed to carry something within himself that made it difficult for him to fully enter the joy of the moment.

Whatever was weighing on him belonged to his own story.

Our relationship was not meant to become anything more, but I will always be grateful for the beautiful evening we shared.

And as life would have it, E. brought another meaningful connection into my world.

His brother Walter was an incredible bass player in Seattle.

E. gave me a couple of Walter’s CDs. Through those CDs, I became familiar with Walter’s music and later began attending shows where he performed.

One evening, I introduced myself as Lady Flava.

Walter already knew who I was through Seattle’s music industry.

That meant something to me.

Lady Flava was not simply a name I called myself. It was a name that had traveled into rooms before I entered them.

My life in Seattle’s music community was never only about attending shows. I supported local musicians. I appreciated their talent. I shared their work.

I played Walter’s music on my radio shows so that other people could hear the gift I heard in him.

Over time, Walter became one of my favorite Seattle musicians.

I always sensed that Walter and E. were not particularly close, but my connection with Walter stood on its own. It grew through the music, the performances, the radio shows, and the mutual recognition we shared within Seattle’s creative community.

Walter has since passed away, but his music remains part of my memories.

Looking back, I realize E. was never meant to be my lasting connection.

He was the bridge.

He gave me Walter’s CDs. Those CDs led me to Walter’s performances. Walter’s performances created a personal connection. And that connection gave me an opportunity to share his music with my radio listeners.

Sometimes the person we meet is not the destination.

They are the doorway.

E. entered my life carrying sadness, but he also carried Walter’s music through the doors of Flava Coffee House.

I helped carry that music back out into the world.

And yesterday, something as simple as seeing a familiar name brought the entire story back to me:

A Valentine’s Day concert.

Dinner at Salty’s.

A man I never connected with.

A musician I came to admire.

And Lady Flava doing what she has always loved to do—supporting music and the people who create it.

Isn’t it amazing how one name can open a door we didn’t even realize was still there?

🌻 Flava in Her Tower 🌻