I’m by no means a fan of Michael Jackson, so I’m hesitant to write this and appear as one. I guess I used to be, when I’d race home from grade school to see if the full-length video of Thriller was going to air. Yeah, the one that Vincent Price narrated. But for me, MJ’s weirdness eclipsed his greatness a long time ago.
His death did strike a chord since it dusted off all of these memories: watching MTV; getting a Thriller cassette to play on my shiny, new cassette player; practising the moonwalk with my cousin at otherwise boring family get-togethers. I even realized I had a good memory of this guy whom I had dated and then filed under “unfortunate occurrence.” But wait – we had had so much fun singing along to The Jackson 5 on a road trip. Look at that, MJ’s death gave me dating redemption!
Everyone has stories to tell because of one man’s incredible story. It’s at times like this, we see we are pretty similar. There’s a collective memory we all share, each of us applying our own layers. Pretty wonderful stuff.