General: June 2009 Archives

Speaking of Motown 25...

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I remember watching this live. Michael didn't want to do the Jackson 5 numbers (Part I), but Berry Gordy talked him into by letting Michael to do Billie Jean as a solo (Part II). Michael chose the occasion to introduce a radical new dance style, including the now-ubiquitous "Moon Walk."

It was absolutely stunning, and even then, I knew I was a witness to history. I was not unique in this--I believe most everyone who saw it knew. It may be the most electrifying performance of all time--certainly the most electrifying *I* have ever watched. Imagine that you had never seen Michael Jackson do any of these moves before--or anything like them--that you'd never seen anyone do moves like this--and you'll have a sense of the jaw-dropping magnitude of the event. He had invented a whole new dance vocabulary. Genius.

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As I write this, I'm rocking out--desk dancing--to Michael Jackson's "Rock With You" and other favorites. Feels very celebratory. Don't you know Michael must be experiencing an orgasm of relief to be out of Difficult World--at least for now, until his next adventure in duality?! He definitely knew how to milk the human game for some really outstanding strangeness, pain, and brilliance!

What a week. Must be a major shift underway. Three of the biggest icons of most of our lives made a transition last week--four if you count pitchman Billy Mays (what makes me think he'd be pleased to be included in the stellar company that left the Earth plane this last week)! Ed McMahon, Farrah Fawcett, and Michael Jackson reached the end of their Earth sojourns within the last week. (Not that any of you need me to tell you that, but in months or years from now when this blog entry is read, it might be important that I specified!)

My relationships with these megastars was varied. First, Farrah. In 1977, I loved Charlie's Angels--a cartoon-like show, to be sure, but very much about empowered women. I was thin and blond and, like about half the young women on the planet at that time, had a Farrah hairstyle, which suited my thick, wavy hair perfectly. And like so many others, I wanted to BE her, her image worshipped by legions of the opposite sex. I didn't come close but in the golf pro shop where I worked as a waitress in the grill room, the customers--who were primarily men--took to calling me "Farrah." Turns out there was far more to admire in Farrah than her looks. She was a woman of grace and grit, and I admire that more, even, than her fabulous hair and her ability to capture the imaginations of men.

Growing up, I must have heard Ed McMahon do his famous intro for Johnny Carson more than a thousand times. In my adult years, like multitudes of others, I harbored a fantasy that Ed would show up at my door with a check for $10 million from Publisher's Clearinghouse. I visualized him standing there with the big cardboard check, in front of people with balloons and champagne, but worried that he'd catch me without makeup, with a messy house, and certainly without Farrah hair! I guess that worry negated all the positives of my visualizations. Ed, for a number of reasons, I'm sorry I never met you at my front door.

As for Michael Jackson, I'll never forget my first intro to him on TV in 1969, I believe it was, with the Jackson Five. I was, as was everyone else, completely astonished at his charisma and talent as a young boy, the frontman for the group, singing lead on "ABC" and "I Want You Back" and a bunch more hits. Who would have ever predicted the adorable, self-confident little African-American dynamo would have evolved into the Michael Jackson of later years?

You know, I haven't really felt sadness for Michael's passing. It felt to me that little boy died long ago, as did the uber-amazing, moon-walking, young-adult Michael of Motown's 25th Anniversary and Thriller, when his genius really became apparent. The Michael that survived until Thursday was not having fun anymore and seemed to have lost his ability to shift that. I am so very appreciative of him for providing the sound track for some of the most sublime episodes of my life. I bet most everyone on the planet can say that. I think he'd be gratified. God-speed, Michael.

Now, as for Billy Mays, loud-mouth pitchman extraordinaire, I bought OxyClean because of him, and my favorite "grabber" despite him. Perhaps most importantly, I became lightning fast at locating the remote and hitting the mute button in direct response to him. It's always good to keep one's reflexes sharp, especially as we age. He has had a greater impact on my life than I'd like to admit! Thanks, Billy!

I'll tell you about my sleep study and my day with my buddy Donna soon. Also, about my garden, its blooms, sadly, destroyed by hail. For now, I'll just say "Farewell, icons. Well done! Enjoy your next adventures!" It will be interesting to see what new adventures their passing kicks off in our lives.

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