Michael Jackson

I am harbouring no delusions that I will be the first or last person to blog about Michael Jackson and what he meant to them personally, but since I haven't blogged in over a month I think it is an apt time as any to re-emerge myself in the blogging world.

I remember the first time I was given my own tape player. It was this chunky black box thing with two cassette players in it. It was bought so I could practice my dance lessons to. My first tape my dad gave me (no doubt from hearing far too much 'bar' work ballet music) was Michael Jackson and Thriller. I loved it. (He gave me another tape soon after having been sick of hearing Thriller on repeat for the last week over AND over again!! The other tape was Bruce Springsteen- one of my Daddy's favourites- Tunnel of Love.)

The death of Michael Jackson didn't hit me hard when I heard about it. I was fairly apathetic. I was apathetic towards the media explosion. However, on seeing his songs performed tonight by some people like me, too young to really have known him in the beginning, who just listened to his music and HEARD.

His memorial tonight was beautiful. Overdramatic in parts, but I just associate that with Americanism and their ability to tap into their emotions (and simultaneously their tear ducts) with such apparent ease. I guess it is here, in England, the stiff upper lip comes into play, but even then I should probably admit I did shed a few tears to the man he was and the man he could have been.

The highlight for me was the young lad off Britain's Got Talent singing a MJ song that has propelled him into hitherto unknown stratospheres of celebrity-ism (as I call it) and, of course, Stevie Wonder- my absolute singing highlight. Queen Latifah was my personal talking tribute highlight. Maya Angelou's poem was fabulous. *I love that lady!!* I related to Queen Latifah as the distanced admirer of MJ's stuff.

Well Michael Jackson, Rest in Peace. You deserve it. Let your music reign.