Don't Stop Till You Get Enough

Growing up as a child of the 80's everything revolved around Michael Jackson. MJ was the end all be all of the pop world. There was no question that when it came to entertainment Michael was the first person you thought of. I was 2 years old when Thriller came out in November of 1982 and 4 by the time it was an international movement. I had posters of Michael on my walls, i burned through cassette tapes one after the other, i even had the Michael Jackson Ken and Barbie dolls with separate outfits (even the glove).

I loved Michael. On the weekends my mother would take me to the video store and as a treat she would allow me to rent Thriller on VHS. For some reason we never bought it, i think it was something for me to work towards during the week. My mother treated Thriller as my reward for being well behaved. This happened every weekend for almost two years. If by chance Thriller was not in stock that weekend i would then proceed to throw a huge fit and throw myself on the floor of the video store kicking and screaming. I had to have my MJ. I would stand up in the back of my mothers Toyota Supra as she blasted Thriller non stop. I knew every word to every song from that album. If god forbid, the cassette tape finally wore out mid ride i would demand that my mother drive to the local Sam Goody so we could buy a new one. I wouldn't last a night without that tape. To this day every time i hear any song from that album it takes me back to that Toyota Supra. Even as i got older my love for MJ followed. First it was Bad, then Dangerous, then HIStory and lastly Invincible. Now i show my love by dominating Billie Jean during karaoke. Unfortunately once i hit puberty i became unable to hit the same notes that Mike did.

See Michael wasn't just a singer, he was part of our family. And that's whats amazing about his influence, especially for any child of the 80's. There i was, a 4 year old white boy from the suburbs of New Jersey believing that Mike belonged at our dinner table. In a country with a long history of racial strife it never dawned on us that Michael Jackson was black because he was beyond race. This young man carried the weight of our countries lingering racial schisms on his shoulders, a weight that might have eventually even altered his own appearance. If someone told my grandmother back in 1950 that a black man would have the greatest selling album of all time she would have laughed in their face. But sure enough 30 years later it happened.

The day he died i had no reaction. It has been so long that he had been in the spotlight for his art that i felt like i had almost forgotten what he was all about. Many friends called and texted and all of Facebook and Twitter was a blaze yet it didnt dawn on me till 24 hours later as i sat at work and Thriller came on my shuffle. It took me right back to the Supra and my mother and my eyes welled up. And maybe its not just Mike himself but maybe its because he reminds me of family and my childhood. And the irony of being an 80's child is that MJ was arguably the most influential part of our adolesence and here he was a man who never had the same opportunity, to experience a childhood.

Eventually his personal life would overshadow his brilliance and he made more headlines for his questionable behaviour then he did for his art. But i don't buy it. I refuse to believe in hearsay, allegations and rumors. Michael was a light for many people and an advocate for children in need all over the world. He was a highly evolved soul that was brought into a very harsh existence, an existence that someone as sensitive as he could not bear to carry. As i teared up upon hearing Thriller that first time since his death i realized that he was free of the burden, the burden of being Michael Jackson.

Its amazing to hear the media coverage and the outpouring of fan support since his passing. In death MJ is almost more popular then he was in life. As people googled MJ immediately following his death, news sites and search engines worldwide crashed, servers were unable to handle the traffic. Record sales of his various albums and singles hit number one across the globe once again. They even moved his memorial to the LA Staples Center to handle the masses who planned to attend. If only this type of love was shared with Michael Jackson when he lived. Maybe perhaps if we shared the burden of being Michael with him instead of letting him carry that mantle himself he wouldnt have had such an untimely demise.

Rest In Peace Michael