The Thrill is Gone

         June 25, 2009 is a day we will never forget.

         We woke up realizing we were going to lose a pop icon, a woman who dazzled us with her beauty and courage up to her final hours. We were almost prepared for the passing, for we saw the gradual decline of her health. Her name was Farrah Fawcett, but many will remember her as the woman with the wide smile, gorgeous mane of hair, one of the Charlie's Angels, and something about a swimsuit poster. When the news did come about her death, it still didn't lessen the feelings of loss and sorrow. The entertainment world had lost an icon and there was never going to be another Farrah again.

         Little did we know what awaited us later in the day.

         I must confess I first noticed that something was wrong by seeing a handle from a fellow WDC member which simply stated 'byeFarrahandMichaelJ'. I was quite confused as I was only under the impression that we were still mourning over Farrah. I decided to check out the news and was shocked to hear that Michael had been taken to the hospital for a cardiac arrest. I flipped to another channel and the news was simply stated but much, much worse.

         Michael Jackson is dead.

         It's almost hard to read that line above and not want to laugh and wonder who's playing such a big practical joke. I really had no idea where the tears came from, but they did - just a flood of overwhelming sorrow and disbelief that filled my heart at what was taking place. I refused to believe it, even when the morbid shot of his body being carried out of that helicopter and taken into a coroner's van, brought a grim reality to what was being reported.

         It just couldn't be. Michael Jackson cannot be dead. He was supposed to live forever (as naïve as that sounds). He seemed immortal and that was the way it was supposed to be.

         My very first introduction to Michael Jackson came in the form of a now fading photograph of my older brother dressed in a white shirt, black tuxedo, with hands in his pocket, afro hairstyle posing in his college dorm room with a cool smile on his face. The picture had been pinned against the wall in the room they always stayed in whenever they came home for vacation. As a little girl, I would always stare at that image and think of how awesome my brother was and his cool sense of style.

         However, when I was a little older – about six or so – I finally asked him about it and why that particular picture, pose and attire. Was he dressed for any particular event? All he did was show me Michael Jackson's first solo effort – Off the Wall – the LP and photo that started off his superstar status. Together we listened to the album, and with giddy pleasure, my brother entertained me with his singing and attempt to dance like MJ.

         I got to see Michael first hand when his music video 'Don't Stop Till You Get Enough' was shown on our television screens. I remember how in awe we all were as we marveled at the cool 'special effects' (who can ever forget those bubbles and blocks and stuff that floated around him? We wanted to be in that world with him!) and that particular scene where three Michael Jacksons showed up. What?! How did he do that?! Could it be that he had called on his brothers to dress like him and dance like him? The debate raged on and none of us were savvy enough to understand the true concept of video magic.

         My appreciation for the artist was encouraged by my brother, who was more than eager to share all he knew about the musician/artist/dancer. I got to listen to some of the Jackson 5 songs, including such classics as ABC (come now, who doesn't know ALL the lyrics to that song?), I Want You Back, I'll Be There, Dancing Machine and the list goes on. In school, we'd sing his songs, or try to see who could dance just like him – the boys all trying to outdo each other to get the females' attention.

         And then came Thriller.

         Oh my. Oh my. Oh my.

         It was an event to say the least. I can remember distinctly our next door neighbor running over with exciting news about them receiving the VCR of Michael Jackson's newest music video, from a family friend in the States. Since my dad didn't let us watch videos at the house, we had to go next door to do so. I can't remember how many of us were packed in that living room, but when it came on...I was freaked and scared as hell and couldn't get through it all! I think I must have cried or something when my sweet, lovable Michael turned into a werewolf/zombie.

         I soon learned only to watch when you heard his voice singing...and to hide when the singing stopped and the background music played on.

         I swear I was convinced that Michael was actually a zombie in real life...until I saw the light as I grew older.

         I received the Thriller album as a birthday gift and I wore that record out! I knew every lyric by heart and would fall into fantasies of Michael singing some of the ballads to me, or put myself in his music video as his love interest. 'Beat It', 'Billie Jean', 'Human Nature', 'Wanna Be Starting Something', 'Pretty Young Thing' and of course 'Thriller' – were my absolute favorites. The music videos were only the icing on the cake. There was no party you would go to that didn't have his music playing in the background. If you didn't have an MJ song at your celebration, you were lame as hell.

         Please bear in mind that all this happened in a country as far away from the United States as possible, in the heart of Africa. You have to understand that there was no internet, cell phones...none of today's marvels of fast (blink and you just might miss it) information availability.

         This was a man that was able to reach the four corners of the globe with just his music. He could bring old and young together and touch people in ways that words cannot even describe. Many wonder why fans go ballistic when they watch him...why they cry and faint and get into hysterics. So yes, those are the extreme fanatics, but goodness...if you really listened to him sing...just close your eyes and allow that voice to speak to you, there's no doubt you'll feel something strike a chord deep within you.

         Many grew up with him and almost consider him a brother or a friend. We watched him from being that little black kid with the big voice and heart, to the eccentric 'white' man he became in the end. I was hurt and shocked at the allegations charged at him. I couldn't and didn't want to believe he was capable of doing such things. What's even sadder is that there are so many people who are eager to bring him down – so eager to bash and destroy a man who was already hurting inside. I believe he was a great father to his children and loved them unconditionally. I believe he was determined to raise them as normal as possible even if his methods were far from it.

         This is not a plea for those who despise him to suddenly fall in love with him, but rather for them to sit back and to think about what kind of a life he has truly lived.

         Here was a man, who from the age of five, was made to sing and perform by a father who (must have had good intentions at first) wanted to take his kids away from Gary, Indiana and to give them a better life. However, you get to hear the tales of being made to sing in strip clubs in the wee hours of the morning, just to make some money, at that young an age. Stories of being beaten or yelled at...taking the brunt of the pressure as the lead singer if he did not do a certain move the right way or screwed up a line. Is it any wonder he ended up becoming a perfectionist when he grew up? Here is a kid who would have loved nothing more than to join his peers in the playground, but was forced to listen to their happy laughter while being made to sing and record until his voice was just about hoarse.

         No one can understand what he must have really felt, or the loneliness he must have experienced. No one can truly understand what made him act the way he did as he grew older, or the weird and eccentric decisions he made.

         But despite all this, despite all those who wish to put him down and belittle him, one thing is certain. Michael Jackson gave the world...gave us....you and me... the greatest gift ever bestowed on him. He gave us his talent, his heart and his soul through his music. He made us aware of the world before it was cool to adopt children from third world countries or to 'go green'. He made us realize that the world is made up of different people and that world peace does not have to be such an elusive thing if we can only celebrate what we have in common.

         Dear, dear Michael, I never got to meet you in person, but you had such a tremendous impact in my life and for that I thank you. With your death, I hope you finally find the solace you could never find on earth. Those who love, and have always loved you, will keep you in their hearts forever.

         Rest In Peace, and give those Angels, in heaven, as good a performance as you gave to us here on earth.