RIP

So like everyone else in the world, I was totally shocked by the news of the death of Michael Jackson. Initially, it seemed surreal, that this pop icon who had been gone from our thoughts and our realities for so long was now also gone from this earth. And then came the barrage of media stories, of extended Michael Jackson playlists, of memories of the King of Pop. And although I was saddened by his death itself, it struck me that I was more melancholy about something else - his death, to me, represented the death of a part of my youth.

As a teenager of the 80's, Michael Jackson played a huge part of my life. The music, the fashion, Bubbles the chimp, the Jordan/Jackson video, watching "Friday Night Videos" waiting for the newest video from MJ... being appalled by the fact that we were expected to PAY to see the full-length "Thriller" video at the movie theaters. I had a friend who could mimic the moves on the "Billie Jean" video like a pro - and we all worshipped him. I myself practiced for hours in front of the tv, rewinding the "Thriller" video over and over again so I could practice the moves of the zombies at the end and be as cool as everyone else.

My vision of Michael Jackson wasn't of child molestation and shame, it was of a breathy-voiced man-child who built an amusement park in his backyard. Who had a petting zoo with llamas. Who hired actual gang members to dance in his "Beat It" video. And who, rumor had it, rehabilitated these gang-bangers, some of whom went on to become profession dancers or actors - or so they said.

My entire adolescence was played out with Michael's songs as the background music. From skating at the roller rink to "PYT" feeling like hot shit, to jamming to the the beat of "Smooth Criminal," there was something about his songs that always made you feel good. And the videos - there will never be anything like them. Ever. Almost every one told a story, in a sense, and always sucked you in with the amazing dance moves and irresistible beat. The morphing faces on "Black and White" showed us that were actually all the same person. And do I even need to get into "We Are the World?" Probably the most amazing song AND video of that era. Who back then didn't have fun trying to figure out who was singing what line, and then laughing with glee when you saw the video and found out you were right?

When I think about Michael Jackson, I think of those days, of my teenage years. I weep not so much for the passing of a talented, yet sick and lonely man, but for the loss of my youth. Because the memories that flood back in my mind are so bittersweet, of a time when I thought I knew everything but now realize I knew nothing. A time when my biggest concern was trying to figure out how to get my curfew extended. Or how to afford the designer jeans I wanted. Or whether or not the cute guy at the roller rink would ask me to skate couples only on Friday night.

I guess it's kind of ironic that the memories I have when I hear of Michael are so innocent, when he turned out to be anything but. It broke my heart to hear all the accusations, but I always knew deep down that they were true. I have no doubt that he did what he was accused of, but the sad part is, I also have no doubt that he truly did not feel it was wrong. Michael Jackson was a very sick person, one whose psyche was so damaged beyond repair that he chose to remain in his own world, where he had no way to differentiate between improper sexual contact and love. I never thought of him as gay, more as asexual - someone who truly had no concept of physical love between a man and a woman. He felt safe with children, he was more or less a child himself, so he saw nothing wrong with what he did.

Unfortunately for him, society did. And I did. And even though the world did too, he got acquitted. Which probably didn't help him so much as harm him, by allowing him to flee the country and the spotlight and never get the help he needed. I heard it said that Michael Jackson seemed to be a Benjamin Button-esque type person, having to be an adult and responsible at such a young age while in the "Jackson Five," then slowly regressing to regain a lost youth as he aged physically. He started as a man, and ended as a child. A lost, chemically dependent child who only wanted to help people and make people love him. He hated the paparazzi, but loved to be adored. And in his death, he is getting the adoration and love he craved so much in life.

His story is a sad and tragic one, and I am sure we are only beginning to hear all the details surrounding his sudden death and the last months of his life. He will always be remembered as an icon, the King of Pop, but there will also always be the stigma of what he eventually became in the later years.

To me, he will always be remembered as the soundtrack of my youth.