*as a child, I grew up with the Jackson Five. I loved all the music and I loved the show. When Michael became his own star with Thriller, I would listen to it over and over on my headphones until the cassette tape (yes, I am that old) pulled apart, never to be heard from again. When all this talk of pedophilia and molestation came to light I was stunned and outraged. But I always had this gut feeling that he was none of what they said he was. To me he was a little boy himself, childlike and full of a child's wonder. Coincidentally, he did more for Ryan White and the AIDS epidemic than any of our "beloved" politicians. Which brings me to those disgusting comments that Representative Peter King from NY, who is planning a run for Senate, made in yesterday's news, "Jackson was a pervert and a child molester and a pedophile, he shouldn't be memorialized at all", blah blah blah.
A jury of his peers, something that Pubby King loves to tout, and being the good lawyer that he is, he has decided to MOCK our justice system in a vain attempt to cover up what may be his own moral ineptitude (they say those who cry the loudest). His remarks were unfortunate and not befit for a man that wants to see himself in the US Senate. Even Al Sharpton knows better than to disgrace oneself so close leading up to the next election cycle.
And not for nothing but, pedophiles don't put themselves in the public eye as their smoke screen. They are much more sinister.
I am and will always believe that Michael was a child of god sent here with an amazing gift that lifted the desperate spirits of so many, for so long, only to be taken asunder by a bombastic public so jealous and starry eyed, that they could not leave him to be as he was. We will all miss him.
Maya Angelou wrote in tribute for the occasion called "We Had Him"
Read the beautiful poem below:
Beloveds, now we know that we know nothing, now that our bright and shining star can slip away from our fingertips like a puff of summer wind.
Without notice, our dear love can escape our doting embrace. Sing our songs among the stars and walk our dances across the face of the moon.
In the instant that Michael is gone, we know nothing. No clocks can tell time. No oceans can rush our tides with the abrupt absence of our treasure.
Though we are many, each of us is achingly alone, piercingly alone.
Only when we confess our confusion can we remember that he was a gift to us and we did have him.
He came to us from the creator, trailing creativity in abundance.
Despite the anguish, his life was sheathed in mother love, family love, and survived and did more than that.
He thrived with passion and compassion, humor and style. We had him whether we know who he was or did not know, he was ours and we were his.
We had him, beautiful, delighting our eyes.
His hat, aslant over his brow, and took a pose on his toes for all of us.
And we laughed and stomped our feet for him.
We were enchanted with his passion because he held nothing. He gave us all he had been given.
Today in Tokyo, beneath the Eiffel Tower, in Ghana's Black Star Square.
In Johannesburg and Pittsburgh, in Birmingham, Alabama, and Birmingham, England
We are missing Michael.
But we do know we had him, and we are the world.
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