A Man and His Music
The year was 1983. I was five years old and had just come to the States, not really knowing what to expect in this land of unfamiliarity. I had left everything I had ever known and loved behind, coaxed to come to a place across the ocean to join my parents in what they thought was "the pursuit of a better future". Except I did not know what that future held. How could I possibly find our future in the tiny one bedroom tenement we resided in on the Lower East Side? It was roach and rat infested, but most of all it was cold. Like the concrete sidewalks outside in the city streets. Everything was bleak and gray. I missed the warmth of my tropical hometown and the safety of its confines as soon as I set foot off the plane. There was nothing to look forward to here except when we might leave I thought. Everyday I would channel surf, one of the only things I still could do in this foreign place where children were forbidden from even the simple pleasure of playing outside. I was quick to find MTV, some new experiment of colors, sound, pictures, and music on television. It was there that I first discovered Michael Jackson.
Even though I could not understand the words, my young mind was immediately mesmerized by the man whose steps lit up the floor. I could make out the words "Billy Jean". They made no sense to me, but it did not matter. My eyes were fixed to the screen. He was like a magician, with his black suit and special powers, transforming a man from rags to riches in one scene. The beat made me want sing along and his moves made me want dance too. In that inexplicable moment, a bond was formed. I had found myself a familiar face. Someone to look forward to hearing on television and the radio while I slowly grew to learn more about my new surroundings.
Before long I was in junior high school. All my classmates and I stood nervously near the walls of the gymnasium when I attended my first school dance. Music blared loudly, but nobody wanted take center stage and be the first to make a move. Eventually people started to mingle and the crowd filled the room, but I stood shyly apart from the rest. I was uncomfortable. Until Michael's "Remember the Time" came on. Then in a way that only old friends know how to, he convinced me to crawl out of my shell and I found myself singing until I caught the attention of a boy I had been having a crush on. "So you like his music too, huh? Did you see the video?" Michael gave me something to talk about. A way to fit in and relate to others.
Later in high school, when I suffered my very first heartache, I found comfort in Michael's lyrics for "You Are Not Alone". I thought it was such a beautiful song... it seemed like he was growing up right there with me, getting married and going through life's milestones in his parallel, yet separate existence. When the biggest production in high school concluded, a celebration of inspiration and talent, Michael was there for us. J, the best dancer in our class, an avid MJ fan, showcased his full Michael moves as a victory dance. We cheered our hearts out, our hands raised high, stomping our feet, proud of our accomplishments and the college years that lay ahead. The thing is, J was never a popular kid or part of the "in" crowd, but you had to love the guy because anyone who could dance like Michael deserved respect. Michael made you cool. He was the embodiment of innovation, success, and a future yet to come.
In college I was paired with my roommate, who was originally from India. Our friend down the hall was from Korea. It was the first time I was away from home and living with strangers. We found a common love of Michael and the '80s. It was fun trading stories of how we all used to copy his dance moves. It was amazing how he brought people across the world together in their shared interest in him. Michael helped me find lifetime friends in my evolution to becoming an independent adult. When Michael's allegations of molestation came out, I was a staunch supporter, refusing to believe he had done anything to intentionally hurt anyone. I truly believed he was as confused as I was about this whole process of growing up. I knew what it was like to have your childhood interrupted. I imagined it was even worse for him. I hurt for him and wished he could somehow find peace and contentment.
When I met one of the great loves of my life, it was all the more reason to love him when he shared a memory with me of how he had secretly skipped school at 13 to attend a MJ concert. How he had saved up his allowance months in advance and made sure he was going to see the King of Pop no matter what. The way his eyes twinkled when he recalled the thrill of it all gave me a little insight into another human being that I could truly understand. I had always thought Michael was a compassionate person who really gave his all in everything that he did. Most fans of his shared that view and I was able to identify with that.
By the time the new millennium had ushered in a new wave of musicians, Michael's relevance had become outdated and distanced by his strange lifestyle and transformation, but he had already become a fixture in my life. His music was always somewhere close to me, whether it was his greatest hits album on my bookshelf or a shortcut to his songs on my playlist. He became the target of jokes, but I never thought of abandoning him for music that was more hip, because in my mind he had grown beyond that. I no longer listened to him because he was cool, familiar, hopeful, or comforting. I listened to him because he was a part of my life. Whether it was good or bad, I was always happy to hear what he was up to.
My only regret is that I never got to see Michael in person. When I heard he was going on tour one last time I desperately wanted tickets, but they were sold out within hours. I was crushed, but nowhere nearly as devastated as I was when I heard the news that he had passed away today. I immediately stopped what I was doing. At first I was in shock and dismay, my hand clasped over my mouth while I read and reread the news. Eventually the terrible truth sank in, along with my heart. In the moment that I realized that he was really gone, I also realized that he was taking away with him some physical manifestation of my childhood here in America, marked by the search for acceptance, success, and hope. Michael, like you always say to your fans, "I love you". May you find your true Neverland where people can preserve their spirits forever and be free.
June 25th, 2009
Even though I could not understand the words, my young mind was immediately mesmerized by the man whose steps lit up the floor. I could make out the words "Billy Jean". They made no sense to me, but it did not matter. My eyes were fixed to the screen. He was like a magician, with his black suit and special powers, transforming a man from rags to riches in one scene. The beat made me want sing along and his moves made me want dance too. In that inexplicable moment, a bond was formed. I had found myself a familiar face. Someone to look forward to hearing on television and the radio while I slowly grew to learn more about my new surroundings.
Before long I was in junior high school. All my classmates and I stood nervously near the walls of the gymnasium when I attended my first school dance. Music blared loudly, but nobody wanted take center stage and be the first to make a move. Eventually people started to mingle and the crowd filled the room, but I stood shyly apart from the rest. I was uncomfortable. Until Michael's "Remember the Time" came on. Then in a way that only old friends know how to, he convinced me to crawl out of my shell and I found myself singing until I caught the attention of a boy I had been having a crush on. "So you like his music too, huh? Did you see the video?" Michael gave me something to talk about. A way to fit in and relate to others.
Later in high school, when I suffered my very first heartache, I found comfort in Michael's lyrics for "You Are Not Alone". I thought it was such a beautiful song... it seemed like he was growing up right there with me, getting married and going through life's milestones in his parallel, yet separate existence. When the biggest production in high school concluded, a celebration of inspiration and talent, Michael was there for us. J, the best dancer in our class, an avid MJ fan, showcased his full Michael moves as a victory dance. We cheered our hearts out, our hands raised high, stomping our feet, proud of our accomplishments and the college years that lay ahead. The thing is, J was never a popular kid or part of the "in" crowd, but you had to love the guy because anyone who could dance like Michael deserved respect. Michael made you cool. He was the embodiment of innovation, success, and a future yet to come.
In college I was paired with my roommate, who was originally from India. Our friend down the hall was from Korea. It was the first time I was away from home and living with strangers. We found a common love of Michael and the '80s. It was fun trading stories of how we all used to copy his dance moves. It was amazing how he brought people across the world together in their shared interest in him. Michael helped me find lifetime friends in my evolution to becoming an independent adult. When Michael's allegations of molestation came out, I was a staunch supporter, refusing to believe he had done anything to intentionally hurt anyone. I truly believed he was as confused as I was about this whole process of growing up. I knew what it was like to have your childhood interrupted. I imagined it was even worse for him. I hurt for him and wished he could somehow find peace and contentment.
When I met one of the great loves of my life, it was all the more reason to love him when he shared a memory with me of how he had secretly skipped school at 13 to attend a MJ concert. How he had saved up his allowance months in advance and made sure he was going to see the King of Pop no matter what. The way his eyes twinkled when he recalled the thrill of it all gave me a little insight into another human being that I could truly understand. I had always thought Michael was a compassionate person who really gave his all in everything that he did. Most fans of his shared that view and I was able to identify with that.
By the time the new millennium had ushered in a new wave of musicians, Michael's relevance had become outdated and distanced by his strange lifestyle and transformation, but he had already become a fixture in my life. His music was always somewhere close to me, whether it was his greatest hits album on my bookshelf or a shortcut to his songs on my playlist. He became the target of jokes, but I never thought of abandoning him for music that was more hip, because in my mind he had grown beyond that. I no longer listened to him because he was cool, familiar, hopeful, or comforting. I listened to him because he was a part of my life. Whether it was good or bad, I was always happy to hear what he was up to.
My only regret is that I never got to see Michael in person. When I heard he was going on tour one last time I desperately wanted tickets, but they were sold out within hours. I was crushed, but nowhere nearly as devastated as I was when I heard the news that he had passed away today. I immediately stopped what I was doing. At first I was in shock and dismay, my hand clasped over my mouth while I read and reread the news. Eventually the terrible truth sank in, along with my heart. In the moment that I realized that he was really gone, I also realized that he was taking away with him some physical manifestation of my childhood here in America, marked by the search for acceptance, success, and hope. Michael, like you always say to your fans, "I love you". May you find your true Neverland where people can preserve their spirits forever and be free.
June 25th, 2009