After hearing the news from my hospital bed that Michael Jackson, King of Pop had died, I instantly thought of three things.  One, his children may have a chance at a normal childhood; two, his music catalog would have to be sold and Paul McCartney finally may own his own music; and three, what did Michael Jackson’s life and music mean to me?   All of these things made me smile, and then I watched in horror as the media exploded with non stop coverage, old videos, even .  Again, a celebrity who has fallen from grace was given massive media coverage, overexposure and adoration in death.  Did any of you catch the 2009 BET Awards or the Larry King celebrity special with Cher on Michael Jackson last night?  Spare me.  The Michael Jackson who died last week was not the Michael Jackson I grew up with.  My Michael Jackson had the moves, tunes and those damn sparkly socks and glove that every kid either had or secretly desired.  I owned the socks myself and would wear them for my choir performances in middle school.  This is the man I am going to miss, not the alleged child molester and man with the every changing face.

Before knowing Michael from Thriller or from the fantastic Off The Wall, we met when he was a young boy singing with The Jackson Five, the black and better version of The Osmunds.  Growing up in Detroit and L.A., my mom had the best musical taste of any mother I will ever meet and I was lucky enough to share her love of music.  Not only did she introduce me to the best rock bands of all time, she introduced me to the Motown Sound and I was singing and dancing to everyone from Stevie Wonder to Marvin Gaye.  Some of my early performances came from my own versions of The Jackson Five songs.  God, how Michael could sing like an adult with soul.  I can still picture myself, in my mothers groovy clothes from the 60s and 70s, singing and dancing my little butt off in our living room while my mom and brother were watching and clapping along to my favorite J5 song I’ll Be There.   That is what I did, nonstop, until the big divorce in fifth grade when my step father took our record player and most of our albums.    I’m now sad thinking about how much I loved to sing for an audience and regret not joining choir in high school.  Karaoke did the trick for me for a few years, but I am an old woman now who has misplaced her singing voice and I am missing those living room concerts.   

By the time Michael came out with his single P.Y.T., my cousins were trying to teach me the dance moves.  I was never good with group choreography, since I was a solo act, so I shrugged it off and grew wary of Thriller.  I knew it was like the biggest album I had ever experienced in my young lifetime, so of course I grew a little disgusted with the Michael Jackson craze.  Back then I hated things that were popular, like any other girl who was a little alternative on the inside.  I’m not saying that I didn’t love Beat It or seeing Michael perform Billie Jean at the Motown 25  concert, I mean, my god, who else could dance and sing and do the moonwalk like him?  It was a fantastic performance, and one I got to see again on tv and online this weekend.  I clearly remember the day my friend, The Big A saw my first ever music pin, one of my then favorite band Van Halen.  She asked me, and I quote, why didn’t you get a Michael Jackson pin, he’s way better than themand I roared with laughter.  My mom bought me a Michael Jackson book and I kept laughing, because I couldn’t understand how EVERYONE in the world adored him.  But we all did, on some level I think.  I wouldn’t own several of his cds if it weren’t the case.

As an adult, I got to see my old musician friend fall from grace and become a joke of a man.  King of Pop no more.  He began turning white, lost his nose and he was unrecognizable and just flat out weird.  My husband said it best when he said that Michael Jackson died for him in 1993.  Of course, you all remember when Michael settled his child sexual abuse lawsuit and paid the family of a thirteen year old boy $22 million dollars.  That is a lot of money to make something go away.  You have to be thinking what I’m thinking.  Even though he also escaped prosecution for the same thing in 2005, I believe most people know that he did it and got away with it, just like other celebrities get off on criminal charges.  If there is one thing that makes me madder than anything it is hearing about any child getting abused or sexually assaulted.     

I know that Michael must have lived a hard life, always performing and living in the spotlight, and I believe that some weird sexual things happened to him as well, but I can’t forgive him and forget about the bad things he was accused of in his lifetime.  It is hard for me to see others people do the same and just praise him and ignore the bad stuff simply because he died.  While watching that tv movie (twice) yesterday about the Jackson’s where Washington from Welcome Back Kotter plays his father, I was terrorized all over again.  Who does that to a child?  Who forces them to play in bars late at night, go to school, and perform and practice and steal their childhood away from them?  I watched an interview where Michael said he was sometimes in the same hotel room as his brothers while they were having sex right in front of him.  Oh my god, that is just not right.  Still, Michael needs to be accountable for his actions, and I just can’t sit here and write a gushy post about a man that forced his kids to wear disguises in public or dangled his baby over a railing.  While he provided me many years of musical joy, and a win for best Halloween Costume in 2007 @ work, I am still sick to my stomach thinking there may be children out there that we don’t even know about who could have been victims of his alleged abuse. 

Shame on all of these people who chose to ignore the bad things Michael Jackson did.  Even in death, people need to tell it like it really is.  At least Cher kept it real and spoke how weird he had become.  I can appreciate the good things that Michael Jackson did just as well as the bad things he did or was accused of.  Do us all a favor and start doing the same!  No celebrity in death is a saint.  Not John Lennon, who ignored his first child, but made brilliant music and inspired millions of people, or Anna Nicole Smith, who died a skinny mother, who had watched her son die and left an infant behind.  Well, maybe Princess Dianna, who came close, but even she had her flaws.   We are all human, and never forget it.  None of us are perfect, and especially not Michael Jackson.

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