Michael Jackson Memorial

Yeah, alright, I'm going to do it.

I just got the newest Entertainment Weekly, which is being called a "Special Tribute Issue", and you can probably guess that Ed McMahon is not on the cover. Neither is Farrah Fawcett. In fact, according to the Letter from the Editor, there are four different covers of this special issue -- to be collected, of course -- and all of them are graced with a photo of Jacko. (I have the "Thriller" cover, in case you are collecting and got the Jackson 5 picture. The bidding starts at $5.) The news about Michael has been non-stop, and while I know the rest of you in the country are probably suffering from MJ fatigue, try being here in L.A. where the circus is 24-hours. They just announced the funeral arrangements. Supposedly, there's going to be a public viewing at the Staples Center (seating capacity: 20,000) with Reverend Al Sharpton presiding. And the in the center ring, for your enjoyment...

Facebook has a lot to say on the matter, too. People my age and older are a bit shell shocked. But the younger generation, the ones that grew up with "Wacko Jacko" are being their annoying cocksure, jaded selves, writing things like, "I'm glad he's dead! He was a perv!" and "Everybody is pretending they were, like, this HUGE Michael Jackson fan. Hypocrite!" They kinda don't get that it's not about Michael Jackson as much as it is about us. I mean, he's dead, what does he care? We're the ones that have to live with the knowledge that our Pop Icon, our Elvis, our Marilyn, our Warhol just died! What the hell does that mean for us? That we're -- *gulp* -- old? It is very important that we blame this death on his multiple surgeries and copious meds, otherwise, any of us can drop at any time! Now is the time to panic, people!

OK, maybe panic is not the best way to deal with the death of a Pop Icon. Public mourning is fine (even if you are crowded around the wrong star on the Walk of Fame). Joining a Michael Jackson fan club on Facebook is fine, too. Hanging out at the Apollo all night dressed as MJ might be a bit extreme, but whatever gets you through it. I will not be attending the funeral on Tuesday. Instead, I'll share with you here, in the safety and comfort of my blog, the way I remember Michael Jackson:

It is 1983. "Billie Jean" is at the top of the charts. I am ten-years old and just starting to get into pop music. I had heard that Michael Jackson is going to be on the Motown 25 anniversary special. I'm tired, but I stay up just to see Michael because I know everyone is going to be talking about it at school the next day. Finally, after the commercial break, Michael Jackson is introduced and he's wearing a fedora, a white sparkly glove (?), and white sparkly socks (!). It's just him on the stage. He sings. He dances. I'm slightly bored by it all until about the mid-point when Michael spins around and starts to glide backwards. It lasts for a moment, but I am surprised. No, astonished. I pop off of the couch and look around the living room. I am alone. I call for my mother, but she's busy somewhere else in the house. I watch the rest of the performance with my eyes glued to the television willing him to do it again. He doesn't. Later, I try to explain it to my mother. I try to recreate it on the kitchen's linoleum floor. I can't, and she doesn't seem to get how incredible it was. I wonder if I'm the only person to witness it.

Of course, that was the moonwalk and, television being television, a few million other people saw it, too, and were just as astonished. But, hey, I was ten. I wouldn't learn about the power of television or even lip-syncing and choreography until years later. But that night? That is what I'm thinking about now. And the moonwalk just leads to other great childhood MJ memories like the debut of the John Landis "Thriller" video which MTV hyped and promoted just as much as the new Transformers movie. And my best friend Jill P. who had all the dolls and the red leather jacket and the glove and then moved away to Florida. Getting the Thriller cassette for Christmas right alongside with my new cassette player. And these are just a few.

Stephen Colbert recently said on his show, "people's memories of Michael Jackson now seem to stop around 1989 as if we've taken a collective hit to the head." Well, sign me up as one of the amnesiacs. Mostly since I stopped paying attention to MJ around the time Bon Jovi hit big. But that doesn't mean that I can't still mourn the guy now. Or, more precisely, what he meant to me. As a friend of mine aptly put it, "I feel like a piece of childhood died right along with him." Exactly! So, rest in peace, Michael.

(Oh, and, Madonna? Wherever you are, stay safe. Gen-X'ers are relying on you to reach a ripe old age, dear Material Girl.)