The King Of Pop, R.I.P.

Wow, I just cannot believe that Michael Jackson has passed away. And with his passing is the passing of an era. It is utterly impossible to wax nostalgic about my growing up, from infancy through adulthood, without noting Michael Jackson's presence in the cultural backdrop: he was a defining icon for my generation. He was such an entertainment phenomenon and a forerunner in so many arenas, whether it be music or dance or video - he changed the playing ground and inspired so many. I have fond memories of my younger brother wearing his TWO Thriller jackets, one in red and one in black, 24/7, practicing his moonwalks and spins in the hopes of emulating one of his all-time favorite idols. I have a not-so-fond memory of flinging my younger brother's single, homemade, sparkled glove, like Michael's, right square into his eye in a fit of anger and revenge on Christmas Eve, after being pushed by him to the ground; the sparkles made his eye burn, and I felt so horrible because I think I secretly willed it to go into his eye, despite the barrier of his eyeglasses. My younger brother and I nearly ran our family VCR (an exciting new gadget in and of itself) to the ground studying the "Beat It" video. My girlfriends and I would perform the "Thriller" video choreography in our High School cafeteria. K and I were reminiscing just a few days ago about how momentous "Motown 25" was, and how we lost our minds when Michael performed his "Billie Jean" solo, debuting his Moonwalk. And while I claim him as a prominent figure for my generation, he inspired generations that followed. My Stepsons loved Michael and The Jackson 5, particularly my younger Stepson, who, at age 3, would perform all their songs in the mirror, complete with choreography, relegating me to the back line as a Jackson back-up dancer; my fumbling with the steps as I tried to follow his lead would totally try his patience, LOL. And he could only perform if he had on his special "Michael Jackson hat" (we called it), a hard, round-top, bowler derby. He sported a fro in those days and would only respond if you called him "Germaine" (his favorite Jackson). So cute.

Yesterday afternoon, I put on all the Michael Jackson tunes I could find on my iPod and sang and danced to them in the kitchen as my son looked on from his swing in total amusement. He loved any time I said "Shamonit", as in the chorus from "Bad", responding with peals of giggly laughter. He laughed and squealed at my falsetto "hee-hee". And then, completely unexpectedly, I started to tear up and I walked over to the refrigerator, out of my son's view, and cried. My appreciation of Michael Jackson never matched my younger brother's or reached levels of fanaticism, but still, the sadness of his passing touches me deeply. And I think I was crying not only for his passing but also for the passing of a time when I was a teen, and things were simpler and so many things were new (MTV, videos, walkman, computers, etc.) and exciting and changing, but changing more slowly than today so you had time to really appreciate them. I cried for Michael's inability to make the world understand him in his later years. I wish he'd had someone to hug him and tell him that he was beautiful just the way he was, before he set out to become so physically altered. His talent, however, was undeniable, and it is this that I will hold most dear when I think about Michael Jackson. I shook off my tears and rejoined my son in our dance party, hoping that I may instill in him the same musical and cultural appreciation for our beloved Michael, Michael's beauty and talent touching generations to come.