Remember The Time

This entry has been a couple of weeks in the making... I've just needed some time to let my thoughts gather and settle. Yep... It's about Michael Jackson.

Let me go ahead and get this out of the way... It's sad about Billy Mays and Ms. Fawcett as well, but I just wasn't as familiar with them. I'm sure they were great. I would also like to throw in a little side note here before I get rolling. I know this will seem morbid, but I would also like to state here, for anyone who may read this if I should die for any reason, that I would like for Diana Ross' "If We Hold On Together" to be played at my funeral. All right, here we go.

Now, I believe it is very sad when anyone dies. Michael Jackson was a human like all of us, after all. But there's just something so devastating when someone beloved by millions passes away. Yes, he was a strange man with a strange appearance. Yes, he was an entertainer of dynamic proportions. But he was also a sibling, a son, a parent, and a friend. We should respect that about all people, famous and otherwise.

I was somewhat numb to everything people were saying during the days following his death, but I was troubled by the jokes and vulturous discussion of how much money his estate would make, how much of him was made of plastic, etc. And about that plastic thing-- does it really matter what he looked like? Was his odd appearance doing damage to you? Do you need others' approval to have the face you have? I didn't think so.

At first I didn't believe that he was even dead; rumors like that go around all the time and only about an eighth of them turn out to be true. It finally hit me several days later that this was the real deal.Suddenly something dumped a huge mixed bag of all kinds of unexpected emotions on me. I was shocked. I was in denial. I was sad. I was infuriated. I was irritated that so many people acted like they were Jackson's best friend and knew everything about him, and even more irritated by the plastic surgery and pedophilia jokes. I was a little disenchanted by the announcement of the upcoming televised memorial service.

The more I thought about it, the more I made peace with at least the part about the public memorial service. The majority of fans didn't know him in person, but I think we all felt like we did, so public was his private life. And he always talked about how important his fans were to him, and it is clear that he meant a lot to many and made a huge difference in countless people's lives and broke all kinds of barriers, so I don't feel like he would have minded his public getting some kind of closure to his grand career. And I suppose it only seems appropriate, in a way, that a life spent onstage should end onstage. I do still feel, however, that those close to him should be able to mourn him privately if they so choose, without newsfolk pestering them for statements and such. I also think it's a bit of a shame that his children are being thrust into the media so drastically after he spent the last however many years of his life trying to shield them from becoming news stories.

I didn't know the man personally or anything, but I know I have countless treasured memories that came to pass because of Jackson's work. My younger brother idolized him as a performer. I can see little 8-year-old Jake teaching himself to moonwalk with the sequined glove Mom made him. I remember watching Jackson's 2001 televised concert on tape with Jake over and over and over, making fun of the ridiculous "Heal The World" tribute and laughing at the woman in the front row who was so excited when Jackson appeared onstage that she looked like she was going to toss her dinner. I remember watching that concert and seeing Liza Minnelli for the first time, hearing Billy Gilman sing "Ben" and listening to my parents talk about how much they loved "Ben" as a song but not as a movie. I remember the four of us sitting around and trying to figure out what Michael Jackson video was the one where he smashes a car to pieces and then turns into a panther (we had this discussion again last week). "Thriller" was the only record album both of my parents already independently owned when they got married. We didn't really keep up with his tabloid life, but we were certainly fans of his work. To us, he was first and foremost an entertainer. And boy, were we entertained. I resisted for a while, but I have finally caved and joined the billions listening to their favorite MJ tracks as they go about their daily tasks. I can't help it... As much as I could try to deny it, his music has kind of been a big deal to me.

I am not a religious person by any means, but I have to say that I have experienced something almost spiritual through all of this hubbub. When I got home from class today I watched some of the memorial service, and felt very moved by what many had to say. And when Jennifer Hudson sang "Will You Be There," my personal favorite Michael Jackson song, I couldn't help but get a little choked up. When the recording of Michael speaking at the end of the song finally came, my room resembled the Hoover Dam breaking. I hadn't really thought of the song in such a serious context before. I was also very moved by Maya Angelou's poem "We Had Him."

There are people who claim to be glad he's dead, and they have the right to that opinion, but I think that it is most important for us to realize that we are all human, we are all flawed, we will all die, and our lives are all worth something. We don't have to like everyone around us, but everyone deserves respect. It is up to us to make the most of what we have, as we can never know how much time we have left here. We can all start with the man (or woman or whatever) in the mirror.