Michael

Michael Jackson died today. Part of me suspected that he had slipped out to live somewhere in peace with Elvis and Marilyn, but that was before I heard someone with a British accent announcing his death on the news. Immediately I sensed it was true because it was a Brit telling the story, and not an American. American media sometimes gets creative with the news they share, so the British accent really cinched it for me. You can see how complex I am.


When Marcos told me about Michael's death back four hours ago when it was still a rumor, it didn't quite strike me like the death of Princess Diana did back when I was young enough to have no real idea who she was, but old enough to be completely floored by her death nonetheless. I have been wondering what the difference between these two celebrity deaths is for me, and I think that it just comes down to the fact that I equated Diana with charity. It felt like a piece of the world's pool of goodness flickered and went out when she died.

I am curious to see how people will remember Michael Jackson over the next few days. He was undeniably the King of Pop, but he had also lead a strange and bewildering life which made him unapproachable and probably very misunderstood. I guess I hope that in his honor the world remembers him mainly for his incredible music.

A sad day? It is, Michael.