"What's the big deal about Madonna anyway?"
That's what my mother - my own flesh and blood! - asked me during an otherwise innocuous dinner one recent visit. My parents and I had been discussing my late-summer vacation to Portugal and Morocco, the centerpiece of which was Madonna's performance in Lisbon on September 13th. My parents had trouble grasping why I would travel from New York to the far-flung city to see "just a concert."

And I was speechless. How DO I explain my passion for Madonna? What can I say that hasn?t already been said about the icon? Is she that polarizing that some people just don't "get" her at all?

Since being stymied at dinner without a well-spoken diatribe on the merits of Madonna's career and the fascination thereof, I have felt almost defensive about my growing fanhood. What IS it about Madonna that enraptures us fans? That's what I am and will be exploring, in my life and in this column.

To tell you the truth, I was a little late boarding the Madonna bandwagon myself. Sure, I fondly remember her '80s hits and basically grew up with her videos. (Full disclosure: I'm on the brink of turning 30.) I owned Immaculate Collection before it was "nostalgic" to do so and sat through Dick Tracy somewhat surprisingly impressed with Madonna?s performance. And I smiled politely when people told me they were blown away by the Blond Ambition tour.

But I was totally put off by Madonna's brash persona throughout the early '90s, arguably my most formative years. When friends in college first started listening to Secret off of Bedtime Stories, I cringed upon learning that Ms. Ciccone was behind the admittedly catchy tune. Not-so-fond memories of her foul-mouthed Letterman appearance still rang in my head and images of her and Dennis Rodman, in addition to the then-scandalizing Sex book, reverberated in my brain.

Then I heard Take a Bow in the background of the cliffhanger of Friends' first season. I went to Evita with my arms folded - top Patti Lupone!, I grumbled - and came out moved. Ray of Light dawned as I waited tables to support myself through law school and became our cozy cafe's official soundtrack. And then I started reading about Madonna more in the media: yoga, Lourdes, geishas ... I literally bumped into Carlos Leon in Central Park while he was pushing a certain celebrity baby in a stroller, and you would have thought by my reaction afterwards that I'd have witnessed a miracle, I was that awed. By the time the Beautiful Stranger remix blared from the nightclub speakers in the summer of 1999, I couldn't help but relent: You got me, Madge!

Lest you think I'm simply a latter-day Madonnaholic with neither a sense of her history nor desire to stay fresh in fanaticism, keep in mind I paid my dues. Besides amassing and appreciating her albums and otherwise catching up on the remarkable career, I saw her live in the Drowned World Tour, snagged tickets for her most recent Letterman appearance, and, most incredibly, made sure I was front-and-center (or, more precisely, left of center-stage) in order to be serenaded with Crazy For You, in that VIP area of the Lisbon show. Still not convinced? Okay, fine: Not only did I see Swept Away on opening night, I had a letter published in Entertainment Weekly that swatted off her harsh critics. (It wasn't a great movie, folks, but it wasn't awful either.)

So that's where I am, evolving with Madonna, like you all, waiting for her next move, mesmerized by the resilience she displays, the talent she exudes, the marks on history she is forever imprinting (from the jaw-dropping 1984 MTV Video Music Awards to ... the jaw-dropping 2003 MTV Video Music Awards.) Let's always celebrate our favorite chameleon.

G-Lock