The Michael Jackson I knew was my hero. He was my foray into pop music. The beginning of my ability to become enamored with someone in music. The end-all-be-all to my obsession with MTV.
In grade school, pictures of Miguel and his brothers graced every inch of space on my bedroom walls. My dad taped an original copy of The Making of Thriller for us, on VHS. I still watch this video on occasion, and almost every Halloween. But when I was in 4th grade, my sister and I watched it nonstop.
When my father was out-of-town on business trips, my mom would invite her friends with kids over and we would put on Thriller and dance around on the tile floors with socks on--slip-sliding around--enabling us to do the moonwalk that much better. Moms and kids dancing!! This is such a vivid, fond memory for both my sister and me. It was the first thing Kerry recalled to me when I phoned her this morning.
Ah, don't even get me started on The Wiz!!
RIP MJ. Long live the moonwalk . . .
May your music transcend the bad times you faced.
Image courtesy of the New York Times.
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