As much as I joked when I heard the news of Michael Jackson’s death, the shock is subsiding and I’m realizing that this man whose music and talent was a huge part of my childhood is now gone, for real. I have joked that he actually died in 1983, because his mental condition took a noticeable dive around that time - and this notion is in fact sadder to me than his death itself. But I sincerely hope when I die, someone will make jokes about me and have fun with it. In fact, you should start thinking of some now.
Yesterday I listened to Off The Wall and Thriller, twice each, and it evoked memories of having heard those songs for the first times. I’d dance along, sometimes with my parents. I’d practice my cool guitar moves, and I’d sing the lyrics all wrong. But to say it was all about the music would be inaccurate. Michael Jackson was a hero to me at that point. He danced well, he could light up sidewalk stones just by stepping on them, and, he had a second set of eyes that he could make roll over his existing ones. That last part scared me, but I still liked him.
It’s easy to recall childhood with fond feelings. It’s a time when most of us didn’t realize how horrible the world truly is. To me it was a time when my greatest concern was losing the small Lego pieces that served as lights to the space stations I’d create. They’d fall between the shag in the carpet and be gone forever, as those days are now.
Michael Jackson will always remind me of those days, and for that I will always have a special place in my heart for him. So, after all the insensitive jokes are forgotten, those memories will live on as long as I do. And at the end of it all we can only hope to be remembered fondly, because whether we like it or not, we all eventually become memories.
