You Rock My World - Michael Jackson

Yesterday when I got the text about Michael Jackson’s passing, I thought it was just another sick celebrity rumor. Then I turned to CNN and saw that there was some truth to it, but he was only in a coma…not dead. Friends from all over kept sending me messages that he was gone, and I was like…where the hell y’all getting this shit from? Michael ain’t dead! I’m watching CNN!

After the LA Times confirmed it, I was speechless; tears welled up at the corner of my eyes. It’s not like I knew him personally. I’ve never been to a Michael Jackson concert or even caught a glimpse of him in person. But how many fans have?

The man, the music, the message behind his music is embedded in so many childhood memories…memories too good to let go.

I remember winning this Michael Jackson doll for a Bible Study contest in Sunday school. He was the splitting image of Michael! Black tuxedo pants, white tube socks, shiny red military jacket, aviator shades and one silver glove. All the kids in my Sunday school class were mad as hell, and I was happy that my black Barbie (Lindsay) had a boyfriend to take her on dates…they could even get married I thought; just like ‘regular’ Barbie and Ken.

My cousins and I watched every Michael Jackson video and would practice the moves later. It was good material for our frequent talent shows that were rehearsed and performed in our yard right by the Big Steps (as we called it). My cousin Randy had a sick moonwalk and my cousin Rod, who for sometime only wore black skinny jeans and white tube socks with black penny loafers, was always the MC. No matter what the judges (aka Denise and Duane from next door) decided, he would always make me the winner.

And I can’t forget our neighbor, the Michael Jackson impersonator. 

He didn’t do it for a living, but he had the Jheri Curls, the shades and the voice and would blast MJ from the antenna radio/cassette player in his yard. Sometimes I watched him moonwalk or just listened to him chant the lyrics with a “hehe” and “shom on” at the end of each verse. He would put on a show for hours (with or without an audience) but eventually my grandmother would put down her newspaper and yell a few Jamaican obscenities that ended the show.

Don’t get it twisted though, granny loved Michael. She even had a Jackson 5 refrigerator magnet that she bought when she saw them live. On Sundays, she would play Al Green, Toots and the Maytals and The Jackson 5 LPs on her Formica turntable. He was a household name, and we were on a first name basis.

How could I forget Michael? He was too good to let go.

Like I said, I don’t know the man that we’ve come to ridicule because of his physical appearance or the man that we shook our heads at during child molestation allegations. But, I do know the Michael that made me cry for Ben, dance to Beat It, opened my heart with I Just Can’t Stop Loving You and gave me a different view on life with Heal the World. I admire Michael for his talent and ability to make music that transcended race, cultures, gender, sex and age. I am amazed at how one man has touched the lives of billions across the world and inspired generation after generation.

I can’t forget Michael. Not the Michael I know and love. Blessings.

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