reflections on the boy michael:

i will never forget watching the infamous motown special where michael moonwalked across the stage. we taped it on vhs and watched it over and over again, mom and me. “that’s impossible!” i had truly never seen anything as magical, as unexpected and sparkling as the way he danced. his music was such a well-coordinated mastery of elements; sweet falsetto, amazing bassline, beats and melody that got stuck in your head and still stand the test of time, videos that made you want to dance even while you knew you could never ever master half his moves….. i loved michael. the fact that he was from Indiana (just like me! we had something in common!) made me ridiculously proud.

when Thriller came out, i had the cassette but still insisted on borrowing Cousin La’s copy of the album so i could study the pictures and the lyrics in all their “full size” glory. i loved every single song, even the sort-of-lame The Girl is Mine; the fact that michael and paul mccartney (a Beatle!) were friends cemented my opinion that MJ was beyond cool. i remember when women started coming forward claiming to be “the real” Billie Jean; even though i was a kid, i was mad at those women for making such obviously false allegations…listen to the song, fake billie jeans: the kid wasn’t his!!!

i had an entire set of MJ sticker-cards; they came in little packs like baseball cards, complete with a stale stick of gum (which i ate even though it resembled and tasted like cardboard). every time i got a new set, i’d carefully put them in my favorite sticker book (the one with shiny unicorns printed on every page) and take them to school to show my friends.

that year during my birthday rollerskating party at United Skates of America, La gave me a t-shirt with MJ on the front, yellow 3/4-length sleeves, and “Missy” in iron-on letters down the sleeve. that shirt was AWESOME. the first piece of clothing that made me feel cool and older and totally of the moment. i was wearing that shirt when i learned to skate backwards; my personal confidence-level was at an all-time high.

my favorite poster, alongside madonna, cyndi lauper, ricky schroeder and strawberry shortcake, was this one of michael in the yellow sweater vest. perfect innocent boy-michael. the guy you’d like to show up at your house and take you to the movies and out for ice cream. the guy who would always always open the door for you and serenade you softly and lend you his jacket (or glove!) if you were cold:

when the thriller video came out, MTV was still a subscription-only cable channel. fortunately, my parents were young and hip, and we had a subscription. i remember getting together with my cousins, watching the “making of” special and then the actual thriller video for the first time. it blew my mind. i wanted to be able to dance like that. and if i couldn’t dance like that, i at least wanted to be able to entertain like that, to use every ounce of talent i could summon. i remember feeling this way at most MJ videos, and can remember almost every time i saw one for the “first time”, and the way i was continually inspired and awed. he gave everything; in those days it truly seemed like he belonged to the fans. we all tried to emulate his moves. we all tried to spin and move like him. i learned the Thriller choreography in dance class that year, and every step made me feel like i had a piece of the MJ magic.

i cried with fear (and called La) when his hair caught on fire while filming the pepsi commercial…

i was in junior high by the time Bad was released, and the MJ jokes became pervasive pretty soon thereafter. we all loved him, but he got kind of weird, so the jokes were easy…. about his nose, about his chimp-friend bubbles, about the obvious changes in his skin color…. but in those days there was not one classmate who didn’t absolutely revere his talent. there were other songs and albums (cassettes, really) that i liked over the years, but once i stopped listening to Bad (and moved on to the other Michael, George Michael), it was the end of the era for me. MJ seemed so caught up in his private life….his creativity was no longer awe-inspiring enough to overshadow his life.

in high school i discovered the Jackson 5 and was once again blown away. little michael with the afro, wearing the purple hat on Ed Sullivan? little michael singing I’ll Be There? little michael lighting up the stage while his brothers knocked out those awesome bass riffs? i was hooked. they became the soundtrack to my high school years, cruising around with the choir girls, pretending to be the jacksons (i was always michael. i don’t have to tell you that, do i?)

i have opinions on what happened to michael in those last years of his life. i have opinions about what he did and didn’t and might have done, but it’s honestly irrelevant to my memories of michael jackson and what he gave the world. for years he has reminded me of (another legend) judy garland…. a brilliant child prodigy who worked and worked and worked as those around him took and took what they could. a person so wounded by childhood (and the lack thereof) that he never got through it. a person whose early death was not unexpected. a person who had been a frail shell (due to sadness, bad choices, drugs…) for years and died with an aura of loneliness. and i’m truly sorry for that, no matter what his personal demons might have been.

. . . . . .

his legacy to me, and so many others, will always be the music. the dancing. the joy.
and for that, i’m truly grateful.