Michael Jackson- The King Of Pop

When I woke up this morning, about 2 hours late, I was exhausted. I had this sad, drained feeling I’ve had the morning after a loved one has passed away. Yes, Michael was a loved one. Yesterday, when I heard that Michael Jackson had died, I went through a series of emotions and even became teary eyed. I was in the library and a black woman walked up to take her place on line. She was crying and frantically dialing her cell phone. We made eye contact and she blurted out “Michael Jackson just died!”

I called my mother right away and asked her to tell me it wasn’t so. I asked her to tell me that Michael Jackson is not dead. I called my Mom in Florida for two reasons. One reason is because my parents are retired and keep the television locked on all of the cable news channels all day. Second, because that’s who I call when something important happens to me. At the time, I couldn’t really identify what I was feeling or why I was so affected. The feelings were familiar though.

Michael Jackson was like that brother or cousin, that did time, or lived an ‘alternative’ lifestyle, or turned his back on the family but when they die, hey- they are still family. So the family buries them with dignity, some folks whisper about the bid he did or the time he was arrested or the allegations of jack-assery, and move on. But you love them anyway, because they are family. Michael was part of the Black family. He was an extraordinary artist and it is because of that people all over the world loved him but Black people love him and claim him as our own even though at times he did not claim us.

I have to admit that I haven’t been an ‘active’ fan of his persona for many years. The media reports of his personal life really depicted the life of a tortured soul. I always remained a fan of his music and tried to remember him with his jheri curl, dark skin and wide nose that he seemed to hate, but we all loved so much. The scary looking face that had become his, to me was not the real Michael Jackson.

As I go through my day, I am hoping that the folks that I work with that feel entitled to vocally criticize President Obama in the office don’t feel equally as entitled to vocally disrespect Michael Jackson’s memory the day after his death. I’m fully aware of the allegations of bad acts on his part, but like our other cousin OJ Simpson and his deceased ex wife, I’m also aware that he was never convicted of a crime.

Farrah Fawcett also died yesterday and I was saddened by her death as well. It wasn’t the same sadness that I felt about Michael Jackson’s death, but sadness none the less. Farrah Fawcett represented a carefree time in my life when television was fun and benign. Farrah was also a role model for developing a brand for oneself and making her dreams come true on her terms and showing the world that she was a great actress and not just a “pretty face”. Just like Michael Jackson, her face and behavior became progressively unattractive over time, but again I chose to remain a fan of her acting and remember her pre-botox and plastic surgeries.

Prior to her death she released a documentary memorializing her struggle with cancer and her fight for her life. The film showed her at her weakest and most unattractive state. What was remarkable about the documentary is that she wanted to bring attention to the type of cancer that she had-

anal cancer. What is sad is that the media down played the anal cancer spin and didn’t give it the attention that it should have received because anal cancer is a personal, embarrassing topic. I’m not sure why it’s so embarrassing since we all have anuses.

What folks need to know is that the risk factors for anal cancer include having human papillomavirus (HPV), having many sexual partners, and having receptive anal intercourse (anal sex). You have to admire a person that would say to the world “I have anal cancer”.
So the world is less two significant souls today. I hope their souls rest in peace because they have earned it.