Memories of Michael Jackson

This week there were several “celebrity” deaths reported but none as shocking or surprising as that of Michael Jackson. While I wouldn’t call myself a fan (I’m not one of those hysterical girls you saw crying uncontrollably at his concerts) I will say that I had an appreciation for his talent.

The first record I ever bought was “Rockin’ Robin” by Michael Jackson. My friend Patti Mirenna sold it to me for fifty cents (unbeknownst to the real owner, her older sister Jolene.) I played that 45 over and over, listening as the music mixed with the pops and scratches of the vinyl. (Remember 45s? You had to put that little yellow adapter in the middle otherwise the record would slide all over your turntable making the music sound even more psychedelic than usual.) Although I enjoyed The Jackson 5, I was really more of an Osmond Family fan. Michael Jackson had the pipes but Donny Osmond was dreamy.

Fast-forward a decade to December 1983. I spent the first half of my junior year of college studying abroad. Spending time in France, England and several other European countries left me significantly out of the loop when it came to American pop culture. Returning home after four months in Europe, my sisters pounced on me not to find out about the latest Paris fashions, or whether the men in Italy really pinched your butt as you walked by. The first thing they asked me was “Have you seen Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller’?” Of course I hadn’t; the phenomenon had not yet reached European shores, and so we plunked ourselves down in front of MTV for what seemed like hours (and probably was) and waited for the next showing. (Remember those days before the Internet and YouTube when you had to wait for something to be shown? For that matter, remember when MTV actually showed music videos?)

Of course I was blown away by the music, the dancing and the special effects, but most of all by Michael Jackson himself. Clearly he was a visionary when it came to music, but even more so when it came to showmanship. The “Thriller” album went on to become the highest selling album of all time and a superstar suddenly became an icon.

Over the years my admiration for Michael Jackson’s talent was tempered by his increasingly odd behavior: A chimpanzee for a best friend; purchasing the Elephant Man’s bones (and even more disturbing, purchasing the Beatle’s music.) A hyperbaric chamber installed in his amusement park of a home; the allegations by young boys. And through it all, the ever-changing face of Michael Jackson. A friend’s daughter once innocently asked, “How did Michael Jackson go from being a black man to a white woman?” How indeed?

For many, the passing of Michael Jackson will be one of those “Where were you when you heard…” events. I was on my way to TJ Maxx to find a dress for my husband’s reunion. When I heard the news, I wandered through the store, telling anyone who passed that Michael Jackson had died. I guess I needed others to share my disbelief, to validate the shock I felt. How could such an iconic figure be gone so suddenly?

As millions mourn, I join them in recognizing the loss of an immense talent. Despite the financial woes, legal battles and bizarre behavior, I will try to remember the Michael Jackson whose voice first entertained me for hours on a cheap turntable and entertained the world for nearly five decades.