Thursday, June 25, 2009
I want to love you, P.Y.T., Pretty Young Thing...OR Remember the time?
Seeing the news of Michael Jackson's death is so unexpected. Watching the coverage, I just get more and more sentimental and sad.
I will never forget the day that we woke up to the news that MJ's hair had caught on fire as he filmed a Pepsi commercial. We were driving to Mississippi to visit some of my parents' friends and it came on the radio. Plus Dinky got the Thriller LP for Christmas the year it came out and we spent hours looking at the big fold out picture of Michael holding the tiger cub. We were caught up in how bizarre his wrist looked. If you lived it then you know what I mean because it was impossible not to notice how his wrist had two tendons or veins or something that popped out really far.
When I heard "We are the World" tonight, I thought about a night in 1983-ish when I stood out in the yard at dusk and processed the fact that if Michael Jackson might happen gaze at the moon right then, we would be looking at the the same thing at the same time. It was a pathetic! I was a huge fan. We bought the teeny bopper magazines to read all about him and we watched The Wiz when it came on tv.
We had a 2 story playhouse with a balcony. We would pull the trampoline over beneath the balcony, turn on the little tape deck of songs, including MJ's biggest hits, recorded from the radio and perform a concert and then do trick-like flips off the balcony. My dad would drag the trampoline away but then we'd get some friends together and bring it right back across the yard while he was at work. One time Dinky landed on the springs on her back but otherwise no one ever got seriously injured. He finally gave up. P.S. Our playhouse had a working bathroom upstairs.
We sat stunned when the video for Bad debuted and he was so light and barely had a nose compared to his natural, original features. We followed his career and wondered what in the world had happened to him but we never quit loving his music. His moves still look the smoothest.
I will always remember Michael Jackson fondly. May his glove always sparkle more than any disco ball. I always held out hope that I would see him in person.