My Tribute to JM...I Mean MJ

Many of you know my former creative partner Josh, (I hate saying former, but whatever, not getting hung up on that). In fact, if you don’t read him, you should be: http://justbeingjosh.com/. He is much more entertaining than I am. I write for therapy, he writes because that is what he was born to do. I have always wanted to write, and maybe even needed to write, but there is only one reason I do it today: Josh taught me how. I still ramble too much, and my structure is weak, but at least I get my ideas out and I make sense. He was the perfect editor: he nursed my ego at the beginning, held my hand as I struggled, and then as I grew in confidence he hacked my stuff up. We were great together. I have written a lot of garbage, but every once in a while I stumble upon a good vein and feel that I have contributed something new and creative to the world. I can live with that.

Stay with me, I have a point. Our radio show was my time to shine. That show is probably the least significant thing I have ever loved. When that On Air light came on, I was a different person. I didn’t have a clue what I was doing, but I was good. Josh was the perfect co-host. He knew exactly what he was doing; did 90% of the work and I got too much credit. I was lost without him, and he never cared. He was a great producer, and he would just set me up all day long. Our ‘success’ was based on one simple premise: ‘Don’t follow the crowd’. If everyone was talking about something, we stayed away from it. We were nobodies, and there wasn’t a soul in the world (outside maybe blood relatives and few girls) who cared about our perspective when everyone and their mom was giving theirs. So we kept if fresh, and quick, and new. We wanted to tell our audience about something they wouldn’t find unless the tuned into our show. And it worked. We were different and it was something that people wanted to hear. (See my March 17, 2008 blog for the end of that era).

Today, I had to ask Josh for permission to break the code. I just have to write something about Michael. I was writing all the time, and then Michael died and it has affected me in a way I was not expecting. He granted me permission.

First of all, the fact that a famous person died does not really matter. His value as a human being is no more valuable than any other person, and so many people die every day. There are 2 American journalists in prison in North Korea as we speak. If they die I will actually be sad. That would be unjust and wrong. Iranian protesters dying over election results effects me emotionally. I feel for them. It makes me appreciate the freedoms we enjoy. That is real life, and real loss. This is not about a warped perception of the value of life.

It is also not about celebrity. I remember when Princess Diana died. Billions of people cared, and I wasn’t one of them. I cared much more about Chris Farley’s death, and that was only because he wouldn’t be making anymore movies. But something about Michael’s passing just stuck with me. I found myself on BET, and MTV, and VH1 whenever I had down time this weekend. Prior to that, I didn’t even know the channel numbers of those stations. I am no longer in their demographic. And I guess that is the point. When Michael died, a little piece of my childhood died too. That sounds so over-the-top as I read what I just said, but I can’t come up with another way to phrase it.

I was the perfectly-isolated-from-anything-bad kid. I was homeschooled and I went to a very conservative church. Every single one of my friends were homeschooled and went to that church. Even the good Christian kids that went to my church but also public school seemed wild and dangerous to me. I played in a Christian sports league, and I loved it. I was not rebellious about it at all. I was perfectly happy in this world. I rode my bike, played outside til it was dark, and was always happy. We didn’t have a TV, and when we did I watched Gospel Bill, and Little House on the Prairie. One time, I was at a birthday party and they watched He-Man. I knew I was not allowed to watch it, but I did anyways. I didn’t even want to, and it was very stressful, but I didn’t want to be alone either. They next day I was so sick, and I just knew God was punishing me. I vowed never to do anything bad again.

I loved Carmen. I went to his concerts, and thought he was awesome. I went to see Phil Driscol and Twila Paris. I listened to Sandi Patti, Amy Grant, Steven Curtis Chapmen, Michael W. Smith. And Michael Jackson. I owned all Christian music. I had the t-shirts, the movies, the magazines. There was nothing about me that was cool, hip, or trendy. And I had no interest in trying to be any of that (not that I even knew what that would be). All of my friends were the same way as me. As far as I was concerned I was normal. I played with Leggos, GI Joes, Transformers, and Construx. And I listened to the “Bad” album a million times.

All weekend during these tributes they talked about his cross-over style. He appealed to black and white, young and old. Rockers, rappers, dancers, R&B. Didn’t matter, everyone loved Michael. Even completely, perfectly naïve little Christian homeschooled white boys who listened to Carmen. I remember someone teaching me the F-word. I remember someone teaching me about the middle finger. I had no idea what sex was until I was told. The concept of a condom completely confused me. Nobody ever told me about Michael Jackson. He just was. And now he is gone.

I guess that is the crux of it. I’m all grown up now. Just last Saturday I heard the 1 millionth, “You were homeschooled?!? You seem so….well-adjusted.” It’s always the same quote: “well-adjusted.” I just laugh now. Sometimes, just for fun, I’ll just say it for them. I guess my innocence died a long time ago, but with the passing of Michael, I feel like the last thing that connected me to that kid is gone. I’m not sure how relevant Michael was now anyways, he was pretty much just a freak show I guess. But to me, he was still that memorizing star that owned the stage, or the music video, or the song. No one will ever be as big as he was. There is too much other stuff going on. Plus, anyone like him would feel ‘produced’ or ‘manufactured’. He was organic (relatively), when something organic could become something huge. I didn’t like him because we was popular. I liked him because everyone did, but not because it was the thing to do. It was just that simple: everyone did.

So lump me into the cliché’ “a little piece of me died” group. But now I can move on. Maybe it was fitting really. The past year and a half has been about moving on from my Peter Pan complex (or ‘extended adolescence’ as the shrinks like to call it). The women in my life had no idea just how accurate their claims of “grow up” actually were. But I did grow up. Not sure how ‘manly’ I feel, but I certainly don’t feel boyish. I have changed and I am a different person. Now the kid in me has to accept that the pop star that defined pop culture for me is dead. ‘Neverland’ is gone, and even when it was still here it was pretty creepy. So long Michael. You were probably the weirdest 50-yr old in history. I’m glad I grew up before I hit 30.

I know what you are thinking. Leave it to me to make the passing of a global icon worshiped by billions of people all about me. It’s OK. Josh said I could, and he is man who knows about such things.