Michael, Memories and Me

Okay, everyone has had their say about Michael Jackson, king of pop, master showman and all-around curious little man.

Now it's my turn. Let me say, he had a very interesting life. But in the end, he went out a lonely, sad, pathetic person who never seemed to have lived at all. I don't want to go out like that. Another reminder that money, fame, tons and tons of adoring fans and a three-thousand-acre California hideaway will not cure what ails you.

Today, the world is saying farewell in an extravagant LA memorial service. Like everything about his life, it's over the top. One billion were expected to watch a live broadcast and some news organizations were live-blogging, no doubt drawn by the promise of a star-studded lineup. I won't be among them.

I hope somewhere the poor soul is enjoying a moment of peace and the joy of solitude -- and I hope he's found whatever it was he was seeking. God knows he deserves it. After all those years of being this strange creature, neither man nor boy, (or years of just projecting that image, who really knows?) and ALL of those tiresome transformations, it's time to give it a rest. For all of our sakes.


Did he molest little boys or was he a little boy who never had a childhood and just enjoyed being around little boys? Did he hate being black and tried through endless bad and worse surgeries to become white? Was he trying to look like a white woman or a light-skinned Diana Ross? What was up with that creepy speaking voice? And did he ever dress down, or dress normal, like putting on a pair of jeans for a quick trip to the grocery store? (Okay, maybe not that last one.)

He broke barriers in the music biz, I'll give him that. He was said to have contributed a lot of money to charity. Well, good. He made some great music (my favorites: The Way You Make Me Feel, Who's Loving You, Don't Stop til You Get Enough, PYT, I'll Be There, and the little known Liberian Girl). He was an electrifying dancer and his music made me want to dance.

Michael is, was, and always will be an enigma to those of us who knew him from afar. And from what I'm seeing on the TV now, it seems he was pretty much an enigma to people who were close to him -- or claim they were. There are an awful lot of portraits being painted.

For me, MJ -- and by extension The Jackson 5 -- was one of those amazing things from my 60s youth that seemed magical in a period when we were evolving into beautiful and proud black people and it was so huge to see then-contemporary black artists on television FOR THE FIRST TIME.

So I'm grateful to a ten-year-old Michael Jackson and his brothers for providing part of the soundtrack (ABC, I Want You Back) as I danced those years away. I am grateful for the magic of his youthful onstage performances. And with his death, I am grateful to hear the old music and to have memories of a wonderful time in my life rekindled. Thanks. Now Beat It.