Guest Post: CharityBuzz Celebrity Auctions. Dream Makers or Just Another Business Transaction?

Welcome back to my Duch friend Ester. She's returned, using her power of the pen, to talk about what happens when your life-long dream to meet Lenny Kravitz becomes a business transaction (and a bad one at that). Take it away Birthday Girl...

I Need A Love That Takes Me Higher. So High I'm Never Coming Down

by Ester Bos

My friend from Twitter won an online auction. The prize? Meet Lenny Kravitz backstage in Italy. She invited me to come along and asked for nothing in return. The auction was held by CharityBuzz. Don't be fooled by their well-chosen name. Even though they raise money for charities, Charitybuzz is not a charity. It is a company that makes money by holding online auctions for meeting your favorite celebrity. Their motto: "Do good. Live well".

My friend paid almost 3,000 dollars because she wanted to meet Lenny Kravitz. Part of her money went to Charitybuzz, and since they claim to raise money for charity, the other part of her money went to the Robert F. Kennedy Foundation for Justice and Human Rights. The founder and director of that foundation is Kerry Kennedy. She's also on the advisory board of Charitybuzz. Now you tell me, is there a conflict of interest?

Lenny Kravitz. The creator of the soundtrack of my soul. It was my lifelong dream to meet him. And just a business transaction to Charitybuzz. As long as we did get to meet him and were able to see part of his concert, everything went well according to them.

I don't think Lenny Kravitz knew how much money my friend had paid to see him. Of course no one can be bought. But maybe people shouldn't be put up for auction either. I know now that he just did what he always does: shake hands, photo, goodbye. I think Charitybuzz should have made that clear before people started bidding sky high and traveling half the world.

I know lots of people are thrilled to have their picture taken with Lenny Kravitz. But we all have our own truth. My truth is that I hold him so high that I don't want to take anything from him. So I was sad. And not because I had so little time with him. I felt sad because his meet and greets are planned in such a way I felt I couldn't even treat him as the human being that is. All shutdown. Yet, he seems so open in his music.

I do think I had a split second connection with Lenny. But this only happened because I broke the rules of his meet and greet. I imagine he has his reasons to keep people at a distance. What a difficult life that must be. Having to deal with such hollow interactions. I wonder why he makes the effort to meet his fans if this is the only way to do it. It would make me feel so lonely. I pray he has a different perspective and just feels loved. For he is.

When I wrote my blog on the meet and greet, people took note.

Lenny's mind blowing multi-talented Art Director unfollowed me on twitter. He has been such an inspiration to pursue my dreams. I miss the little chats we sometimes had. I miss him.

And Charitybuzz claims we won't get the photo that was taken at the meet and greet. They say Lenny's management decided not to release it because of the "negative blog" I wrote. I have no need for that photo. I don't care about photo's or trophies. I care about people. I feel devastated I was not able to make that clear.

Does Lenny Kravitz know about this, does he approve? This man, who struck lightning through my soul when he wrote songs like Believe and Dream.

I don't regret writing that first blogpost. I do regret going to the meet and greet: I wish I had found another way to thank Lenny for his positive impact on me. And it would have been best if I had just let him be.

I feel very sorry that my generous friend won't get her photo because of this. I don't know how to mend it. Charitybuzz hasn't done a thing to help her. Even though my friend had nothing to do with my blogpost, they feel she is treated correctly. Charitybuzz says they never promised her a photo in the first place. Isn't that funny?

Oh well, what was to be expected from a company that sent my friend to another continent for a meet and greet without a ticket or other formal proof? We had so much trouble getting into the venue because of that. Of course she complained about all that went wrong. But up till now my friend has gotten nothing from Charitybuzz but a very thoughtful 'too bad'. And of course they promised to change their small print.

Now what? Do good and live well.

For who ever that feels I need to be corrected: I'm sorry if I offended you. When I was at the meet and greet, I saw hard working people. And I know you did the best you could with the best intentions. You have been doing such a fantastic job in letting Lenny shine. Please don't stop now.

It took me a long time to decide whether I should write this. The last thing I want is that Lenny gets stained. Not even if it was Lenny himself who decided that I need to be rectified. For his message means the world to me. In the end I think I should continue to stand up for that message. So here it goes:

Let Love Rule ❤

Best Laid Plans

I looked down at my silver, glittery wristband.

The one that we got by waking up at 4:15 am, then standing in line for four hours at the grand opening of the Microsoft store in Boston, feeling like a Democrat who'd crashed the Republican convention. (I'm an Apple girl, a'ight?) The one, as the first 100 peeps in line, not only got us four free seats, to the Lenny Kravitz show, but entrance into his post-concert meet and greet.

The one that convinced my girlfriend Kristine to fly to Providence from New Orleans with a hurricane on the horizon. The one that had our pal Rhodes, researching his options on the best way to take a much needed break from the 24/7 care of his mom suffering from full blown dementia, to meet us out for some music and fun.

I didn't know quite how it would all work out yet.

But I knew it would.

The troops? Not quite mobilized. Kristine? In Boston. In line. She took the train from Providence earlier in the morning, leaving absolutely nothing to chance. Smart girl. Rhodes? His job was, apparently, making sure Kristine got into the pavilion. His wristband was safely tucked in my purse and currently accompanying Andre and I on a slow, painful tour of Route 1 North in Walpole, MA.

Tire shopping. Of course. Here's what I learned along the way:

My husband, as mature and financially secure as he may get, will always view a slow leak the same way he did when he was twenty and broke. Don't investigate. Just watch and wait.

Convenience stores do sell fix-a-flat in Massachusetts, even with tighter environmental standards, but those free air pumps are hard to come by.

When Town Faire Tire in Walpole, MA (shout out to the service manager at 75 Providence Highway) says they're closing at 4pm on a Saturday, they mean it. Even if you've got a whole half hour to spare. They will, however, provide enough air, to not only get you out of the parking lot, but five miles down the street to their competition. And if the store they recommended closed at noon, well, that's just on you.

Starbucks has clean bathrooms in a pinch.

AAA apparently does contract non-uniformed drivers, in unmarked pick-up trucks, for simple tire changes. Or, maybe, we were just had by a hired hit man trying to kill us by putting our donut on the front, instead of rotating it to the back, where control, and stopping, may have not been an issue.

Our car came off the lot with an outstanding set of performance tires. That are not sold standard. Anywhere. Not even at the place that ignored Andre for a full five minutes before he lost it on the clerk. Sorry, fella. Just an acknowledgement would have got you a whole different experience.
 
Good, honest, kind people, and mechanical angels, work at the PepBoys in Walpole. And if there's no traffic, you can make it from here to the Bank of America Pavilion in half an hour.

Rhodes would be able to charm a wristband off Lenny Kravitz himself. In fact, he may have. See.

Two friends could save two front row center tickets for two hours. Two friends like these will.

And maybe even get you on the big screen. See.

Lenny Kravitz puts on a hell of a show. And takes a hell of a picture. See.

Everything might not always go exactly as planned, but it always works out.

Somehow.

Guest Post: Lenny Kravitz -- The Man I Wish I Never Met

Plain and simple. You don't want to mess with a writer.

Writers are observers. Writers are communicators.

We. Speak. Up.

It would probably be best if you stopped underestimating our powers.

Meet my friend (and first guest poster) Ester. She's from the Netherlands. She's a writer. And, quite frankly, she rocks. (In more ways than one.)

Ester is also a  H-U-G-E Lenny Kravitz fan. She had the opportunity to meet him recently. Here's what went down:

Lenny Kravitz -The Man I Wish I Never Met

by Ester Bos

A friend blessed me with a meet and greet with Lenny Kravitz. Of course I would travel over 1200 kilometers for that. I wish I hadn't.

Oh, he was everything I dreamed he would be. Kind, polite, humble, thankful. His body in balance with grace, beauty and strength.

I think I saw his spirit shine. Shine with love. So yes, he was able to live up to my expectations.

I thanked him for spreading such a positive message. He seemed eager to hear what I had to say. Our hands accidentally touching. He turned so he would face me. Looked into my eyes while he thanked me. He told me that it really meant a lot to him.

Magic!

I'm this small town girl. He is this big star. I knew I wasn't going to be his new best friend. But he does fulfill my every desire. You know, musically speaking.

What I didn't know was that the only way to meet him was to have my picture taken with him. I tried to tell his tour manager that I had no need for this sort of trophy. I wanted to make good use of the little time that I had with him. I wanted to talk to him. She didn't understand. This was the way it had to be done.

I know I'm the odd one out.

So when they had me standing next to him, I did not look at the camera. I spoke. He seemed surprised that anyone was even talking to him.

How is it Lenny, to be treated as this precious thing in the rare objects cabinet? To be such a phenomenon that people want proof they met you? And that the proof is more important than the actual interaction with you? My heart bleeds for you.

You know how the universe always gives you what you ask for? That photo? I still haven't got it.

My meet and greet with Lenny Kravitz, the whole 30 seconds, all happened while the band was already playing 'Come On Get It'. So after the camera clicked, he had to leave. And left me craving for something that can never be.

Now for the first time in the 18 years that I've been his fan, I can't bring myself to listen to his music. It hurts too much. I don't think that Lenny Kravitz wanted this for me.

I know he is probably doing it all to himself. But I think he deserves much much better. And so does my friend who payed thousands of dollars for this 'amazing opportunity'.

Where can you get more Ester? Well, right here, of course:
http://mymindtoyourmind.wordpress.com

Soundtrack of My Life: The Lenny Kravitz Edition

The day Let Love Rule was released, September 1, 1989, was the day before I turned eighteen.

I spent it moving into a cinderblock dorm room at the University of Rhode Island, roughly 500 square feet that I'd share with two complete strangers, along with their even stranger boyfriends. I'm sure someone on campus was more than diggin' the first album by Lenny Kravitz, but I was far to busy adapting to my current hell to notice.

Besides, my zippered nylon cassette case was at capacity--filled to the brim with 1980's teenage angst: The Cure, Depeche Mode, Tracy Chapman, Indigo Girls, and, yes, Milli Vanilli, you know, in case things happened to get too dark. (Snicker if you must, but Rob Pilatus, lip syncher or not, was amazingly beautiful.)

Years past, before I gave LK a second glance. I'm guessing I heard 'Fly Away' on the radio, which led me to the sheer perfection that is the album 5. And once again, Lenny shows up on the scene on one of the biggest days of my life. My first LK concert was in May, 1999 on the day I gave my two weeks notice to a job that I hated, so I could start freelance writing full time. Three weeks after that I got married.

Good vibes indeed.

I wish I could say that I became a better LK fan from there. Oh, I tried. But stuff got in the way. Like too many neo-soul artists to count. And that cover of Baptism. Straightened hair and bloody bathtub at the same time? Too much. But with his ninth studio album, Black and White America, Lenny Kravitz had me at hello.

Well sort of. He had me at this:

"In 1963, my father married (a black woman)
And when they walked the streets they were in danger (look what 'cha done)
But they just kept on walking forward hand in hand."

For me, this is where it gets personal. Not because of my parents--two blondes, 1967--but because of me. You'd think that after twenty solid years with my husband André, an outstanding chap, who just happens to be black, the color of our skin, together or separate, would be a non-issue. But for the times that it's not, Lenny's outstandingly beautiful sentiment of 'they just kept on walking forward hand in hand' touches my heart.

Onto another milestone, and yes, more Lenny. On September 2, 2011, my 40th birthday, I was fortunate enough to welcome LK back onto the musical scene, thanks to one very generous friend and fellow Virgo, Kristine, who invited me to his celebration on the Today Show. Or as I like to think of it, Lenny showed up as a special invited guest to my nationally televised birthday party.

Regardless, last Friday night, it just seemed fitting that André and I would be belly up to the stage in Boston, as Lenny Kravitz kicked off the US leg of his Black and White America tour. And in between the intense sound of tracks like 'Come On Get It', 'Always On the Run' and 'Mr. Cab Driver', I wondered why I hadn't come here more often.

Not literally here, of course. This particular experience, within the 'DNA zone' as André called it, where droplets of Lenny's saliva, sweat or a combination of the two flowed freely in the air, directly above my head, cannot be replicated.

(Don't worry, sir, no apology necessary. These things surely happen within that level of exertion.)

I mean here, as in a place of both true awe and thankfulness for the outrageous talent of Lenny and his crew, including Mr. Craig Ross, who should be a household name. LK performed with such an intense showmanship, passion, energy and clear love for his craft, you'd have no inkling that the US crowds are a whole lot smaller than what he's used to.

Newsflash: LK sells out stadiums in Europe. And France? They bestowed the Legion of Honor on him.

Hello! What is up with us, America?!

I wish I knew how to change this. But I don't. So all I can say is thank you, Lenny Kravitz, for not seeing boundaries, musical or otherwise. For successfully creating your magical, one of a kind version of funk, with layered rock riffs, keys, horns, drums, and that voice, which just continues to get more powerful.

But above all, thank you for making no apologies for who you are.

Until next time: Let Love Rule, baby. Let Love Rule.

Forty is NOT the new twenty--Part I

Now hear this. Forty is NOT the new twenty.

It was my birthday sign, created by my husband (and resident artist) André that caught the woman's attention in the Today Show plaza.

"Well," she said, giving me a slightly sympathetic look, "Forty is the new twenty."

Um, do I look sad? A bit tired maybe, but I had been up since 2am.

I'm sure that she was trying to be kind, but I sort of felt bad for her. I mean, she was way past forty herself, and instead of saying, 'Amen girlfriend. It only gets better from here', she went the backhanded compliment route--along the same lines of telling the bride that rain on her wedding day means good luck.

The facts: I turned twenty on September 2, 1991.

That was literally half a lifetime ago. And I don't want to go back.

At twenty, I was a junior at the University of Rhode Island, living with my cousin Lynne in a beach cottage literally a block from the ocean and partying on weekends with my friend, the dollar Rolling Rock.

And life was hard. Seriously.

When I was twenty, I was trying to figure out who I was, what I stood for and who I wanted to be in this world, all while listening to, or opting not to, those voices of judgment that always think you're going about things all wrong. I was working to feel completely comfortable in my own skin. To recognize that I do know best, even though sometimes it's a lonely place to stand.

The truth is, if I were twenty, I wouldn't have even been here, in New York City, literally feet (and sometimes inches) away from rocker Lenny Kravitz, getting a birthday hug from Ann Curry, talking to Matt Lauer about Wes' Rib House or being interviewed on air by Al Roker, with these beautiful birthday signs, in the first place.

When I was twenty, I didn't talk to strangers. What good ever comes of that? You know who you know. Who else do you need to know?

When I was twenty, I would have never, ever butted into a conversation about H&M inside a bar overlooking Times Square, while André went to refill our drinks. (In fact, when I was twenty, I probably wouldn't have even been sitting alone in the first place.) When I was twenty, I would have never chatted up my New Orleans girl, fellow Virgo and kindred music spirit Kristine, who graciously invited André and I to come along on this most fabulous birthday adventure ever, after assessing our character over a couple of cosmos the year before.

Indeed. Forty is not the new twenty.

And please, please, please, don't tell me otherwise.