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Some thoughts on MJ's passing
Last Thursday, my mother and I were talking about the death of Michael Jackson. My 9-year-old daughter overheard us and asked, “Who is Michael Jackson?”
I tried to explain to her that Michael Jackson was a very famous singer who was one of the most popular people in the world when I was her age — kind of like how Miley Cyrus is to her.
But then I got to thinking about her question and I realized that the only thing she wouldn’t have known about Michael Jackson in her lifetime is that he was a sick weirdo who disfigured his face and body, dangled his baby off a balcony and was accused of doing bad things with boys.
So, I am very happy that she didn’t know Michael Jackson.
It used to not be that way. There was a time when Michael Jackson was the epitome of cool. And while we were sheltered from many things while growing up in Quincy during the 1980s, we knew all about Michael Jackson. When I was in sixth grade, in 1982, we could bring in records and play them during lunch. Someone brought a single of Michael Jackson’s “Beat It.” We played that thing over and over and over again. It was so cool with the awesome bass line and the screaming guitars that matched Michael’s wailing voice. It was one of the coolest things my 12-year-old ears had ever heard.
Then there was the moonwalk. Jackson busted out that move on the live TV special “Motown 25: Yesterday, Today and Forever,” during his performance of “Billie Jean,” — another song that belongs to the sound track of my life.
I was watching the special on my grainy, tiny black and white TV, but I could plainly see Michael effortlessly sliding backward as if he was on a treadmill. Soon we all tried to duplicate the move in the school yard, but nobody could do it as good as Michael Jackson. And I never did this, but there were many kids in my school who took to wearing one glove because of Michael.
Those seemed to be the good times for Jackson, but as the years wore on, it became apparent that he was a tortured soul who had some serious skeletons in his closet. Because of the weirdness in his life, his coolness and talent did not transcend to the next generation, which is why my daughter knew nothing about him. It reminds me of another time when a famous person died in my lifetime. I was about 7 years old and I was at a family gathering. Everyone was gathered around the TV when there was an announcement that Elvis had died.
“Who’s Elvis?” I asked.
