Requiem For A Man-Child

When I was a kid in the 70's, all my parents listened to was public radio.  I knew Robert J. Lurtsema's sonorous baritone well before I knew about Top 40 radio.  I had to go over to my best friend Kari's house to listen to WIGY on the clock radio (the kind that had the numbers written on flaps that flipped over every minute with a definitive snap) or to her big sister Kelli's record albums.  That's how I became familiar with ABC, 1, 2, 3 and Rockin' Robin and the other Jackson 5 hits.

When I was a preteen in dance class, we did cross-floor moves to Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough and Workin' Day and Night.  Years later I sampled a couple bars of the latter for my JV cheerleaders' competition dance routine.

I was a sophomore in high school when Thriller went supernova.  Michael Jackson, Madonna, and Prince presented an alternative version of pop culture in a corner of the world that had previously been much more aligned with Foghat, Bad Company, and Lynyrd Skynryd.  They were an urbane, edgy, and glamorous presence on MTV and Friday Night Videos, and I loved every minute of watching them.  One kid in my class even wore one glittery glove to prom, and if you don't think that took huge cojones in rural Maine, circa mid-80's, think again.

I rolled my eyes in college when Michael Jackson tried to protest in that sweet, high tenor that he was really, really Bad.  MTV stopped showing videos, Nirvana and Pearl Jam made rain-soaked, plaid-shirted West Coast ennui cool, and Michael Jackson became increasingly known for his eccentric behavior and appearance as he retreated farther and farther into a world of his own making.

In wedding reception after wedding reception in my 20's and early 30's, white people danced awkwardly and enthusiastically to the old Jackson 5 hits.  They were songs the DJs knew would get people my age up and dancing without offending the older generation.

I started coaching cheerleading.  Michael Jackson only made the news when he did something weird or was brought to court, while I tried to teach the girls to mimic the sharp-yet-fluid, totally synchronized dance style he made famous (with widely varying degrees of success). 

I was at home on the porch when my coworker (who was in eighth grade the year I started teaching) texted me the news that Michael Jackson had died.  Thriller came out literally a lifetime ago.  The Jackson Five were long ago consigned to the oldies stations.  Shawn Johnson danced to PYT on Dancing With the Stars last season.  And Michael Jackson had been working long, hard hours to prepare for a tour he was hoping would bring him back to relevance.

I know many people will say he died too soon, too young, tragically.  I hesitate to say that.  For this man-child, the boy who performed like an adult and the man who hid behind the mask of childhood, I wonder if this isn't the kindest outcome.  The consummate performer and artist always was an enigma as a person, unreachable behind the sunglasses on his increasingly altered face.  Some part of him seemed forever trapped in his heyday, longing to return to that time period.  We all know people like that, people for whom high school or college was the apogee of their experience and who struggle to recapture that part of their lives until you become embarrassed for them.  It's sad enough to witness in your high school classmate who can't get over not being in the popular crowd anymore; it was tragic watching Michael Jackson do it for so many years.

I feel sad for his children.  Their existence can't be an easy one to begin with, and now they have lost the central parent figure in their lives. 

I feel sad for his family, many of whom went on their own strange tangents as well.  Fame ultimately was not kind to them on the whole.

I feel sad for my generation.  We stand on the cusp between young and no-longer-young, and, as much as I would never go back nor give up anything I have, loss of youth is always a melancholy thing.

I wish peace for Michael Jackson, who looked to be such a lonely and ultimately solitary soul.  Whatever troubles or struggles he knew in this life are behind him now. 

He stood with one foot in our past, the past that included the hit-making machine of Motown and disco beats and 8-track tapes, and one foot in the first days of globalized, visually-based, 24-hour information and entertainment.  Whatever else he may have done, perhaps his most lasting legacy is that he both witnessed and helped to usher in this era.

So long and farewell, Michael.  So long and farewell.

Comments

[Joanne]

Excellently put. One of my favorite MJ memories is dancing to "Beat It" in street funk class (in one of Missy's retro moments), and hearing that all the kids in the studio next door were insanely jealous of us. These kids had grown up with MJ-as-freak headlines all their lives, but they still got the music.

[Auntie Sarah]

MJ's whole sad, spectacular life called for two diametrically opposed sets of skills. To create, the artist needs the ability to assimilate everything he/she hears, sees, touches, etc. But because the artist is so open to stimulation, he/she also needs someone around who will protect the artist from his/her self-destructive impulses -- as much as this can be done -- and can fend off the more sketchy people who want to take advantage of the artist's lack of a filter.

Thanks for the post. After years of now-what-has-he-done news about MJ, it's easy to forget what he accomplished as a musician. I join you in wishing him peace.

P.S. Found a blog post with the most wonderful picture of MJ as a child at http://planetwaves.net/pagetwo/2009/06/25/astrologymichael-jackson-dies/

The blog itself deals with matters astrological, but even if you lack interest in that topic, there are plenty of thoughtful observations about MJ (in both the post and the comments).

My favorite comment, especially for its insights into popular culture, and the racial divisions therein:

"Me’n'Michael.

"Michael was the same age as my classmates and myself growing up in 'MoTown'. EVERYONE identified with him (if you were 'whitey' like me, you learned that many classmates would ask, 'who do you like better? Jackson Five or The Osmonds?' The ANSWER (to not get beat up) was: 'The Osmonds? Oh, they just COPIED the Jackson Five!!!'

"It’s been a ride, Me’n'Michael.

"I thank God/dess for the Ride I have yet to go. Sad to see the Michael-Icon go – but it’s been sadder watching him — and watching him grow old.

"xo."