24 Carat Star Time

Of course I spent the last week following the coverage of Michael Jackson’s death.

Like many people, it was a surprisingly emotional time for me. Funny, but I had almost forgotten just how much Michael Jackson and his music had meant to me as a child and young person. I had also forgotten just how many great songs he had released! So much of my image of this man had been overshadowed – first by his strange physical transformation, secondly by the circus surrounding the molestation allegations.

But the coverage of his death brought back many vivid and happy memories of my childhood adoration of  The Jackson 5. Some younger people (and many non-blacks) may never understand what it was like back then – as a black child in a predominantly white setting – to watch not only someone who looked like me, but who was also around my age, dancing and singing up a storm on TV! So talented! So cute! So publicly appreciated!

It was like the Jacksons were cousins we simply hadn’t met yet; that’s how close we felt to them. That is, of course, when we weren’t secretly (ok, maybe not so secretly) smitten with one or more of the Jackson boys. Michael is a year younger than me, so he wasn’t the object of my affection. I was nuts about Jackie, though, and – just in case he thought I was too young – would have readily accepted Tito as runner up.

I remember going to the Grant’s 5 & 10 that used to be located in a small mall where we lived in Willow Grove, Pennsylvania, to check out the newest singles. Yes, 45’s! My sister and I used to carry our allowance up there, and ABC was one of the 1st Jackson 5 singles we bought.  I also remember having pictures of the Jackson 5 hanging on the walls of the room my younger sister and I shared, and at night – long past our bedtime – we would listen to their music turned down low on our little battery-operated record player/radio, so our parents couldn’t hear it from the living room.

In my teens my musical taste changed, and I was more likely to be found listening to Elton John or David Bowie than Motown.  Still, who could take their eyes (or ears) off of Michael? Off The Wall and Thriller were released, and – on his own – it was easy to see that Michael was destined to keep the world at attention.

Yes, the hits kept coming – but each new musical success was now mixed in with something darker and more sinister. Oh, I could easily forgive him the 1st surgeries (though I know some were already irate about those early nose jobs), but the tales of his strange behavior – the chimp, the oxygen chamber, the marriage to Lisa Marie, and finally the overblown extravagance of Neverland – hung in the air like a bad smell. Even his many humanitarian efforts (e.g. “We Are The World”) never quite blew that suspect stench out of the room.

Looking back we now all know this is when things began their long winding spin out of control.

Did Michael Jackson have a skin disease and lupus or did he just hate being black? Was Michael Jackson exploited and abused by his father and left unprotected by his mother, or was he only disciplined as much or as little as many of us kids were in the 60’s?  Was he being honest about the paternity of his children? And – most troubling of all – did Michael cross the line with any young boys or was he set up by yet more people out to live off his celebrity and fame?

Though there will be those who go on arguing all of the questions above as they try to deify or demonize him, in the end, none of it really matters anymore. Parents have lost their son. A family has lost their brother. Three  children have lost their beloved father.

And the world has lost its talented, sensitive and often misunderstood King of Pop.