The Death of Michael Jackson

I'm such a raging sentimentalist.

Michael Jackson died yesterday, and I am still in complete shock. It's not like I'm this crazy Michael Jackson fan either. I mean, I loved his music back in the day (who didn't?!), but it had been a long time since I really even gave him a second thought beyond whatever popped into my mind in line at the grocery store whenever I read the National Enquirer's latest freaky headline concerning the King of Pop.

But now that he's gone, I'm nostalgic. "Thriller" was my second cassette tape when I was a little girl (Billy Joel's "An Innocent Man"--complete with "Uptown Girl" and "For the Longest Time"--was the first), and I would drag my tape player all over the house and play "Beat It" and"Billie Jean" until the tape ribbon physically unraveled. As a child who loved art and crafts, I had a shirt that was designated my "painting" shirt. It one of those ugly black concert tee-shirts that someone got me when they went to see MJ live, and I absolutely loooved it. I would point to his white glove and dance, and even though it was more like a smock than a shirt on my three-year-old body, I insisted that I wear it whenever I was painting.

I watched the "Billie Jean" video--the one where MJ performs live for the Motown 25th Anniversary--about five times yesterday, and I don't think it will ever be anything less than amazing. Have you EVER seen anyone dance like that?! It's incredible. I remember watching it on TV with my parents when I was a little kid and both of them being blown away. I remember seeing women scream and cry in the audience and, being about four, not understanding that. I remember asking my mom why those ladies at the Michael Jackson show were so sad and my mother doing her best to explain to me that sometimes people cry when they get too excited and overwhelmed. How funny.

He became so weird and freakish in his later years that it's easy to see why most of us forgot how unbelievably "cool" he was in his prime. I'm beginning to understand how my parents must have felt when Elvis died and/or John Lennon was shot. (Incidentally, Elvis died the year Jeff was born, and John Lennon was shot a year before my birth in 1981.) I can't help but think of Harper and how strange it is that she will never quite grasp the magnitude of Michael Jackson's stardom. She will never really get how cool "Thriller" was when it debuted (and actually, considering technology's advances, "Thriller" will probably seem pretty lame to her when she's old enough to see it!) or how unbelievably powerful you'd have to be to orchestrate "We Are the World." She will never fully understand how absolutely HUGE Michael Jackson was at the height of his career, how far he fell, and how freakish he became. And to me, that is so odd--that my child will never quite comprehend this person in history that my husband & I will instantly recognize and remember and at whom we will marvel for the rest of our lives whenever we hear one of his songs.

I think Michael Jackson is the first MAJOR icon my generation has lost, and although it's been such a long time since we were all captivated by that young, skinny black kid from Gary, Indiana, I hope I always remember him as the amazing performer that he was--the one with the shimmery black jacket, black top hat, and white glove, who could slide his feet backward as though walking on the moon.