I was in the car when I figured out what was going on--when I got in the car three stations were playing nothing but Michael and one of them was DC 101, which is "D.C.'s rock station." I called Robin to find out the scoop, who gave me the bad news (although accompanied by an amusing anecdote about Wolf Blitzer playing Michael's music videos during his show).
It's fitting that I heard the news while driving in a car, because my most vivid and cherished memories of Michael's music are also in a car. A white Cadillac to be precise. When I think of Michael, I think of the relatively brief period of time (1988ish to 1990ish) when my mom was a single mother and my main family unit consisted of my mom, James, and me (except every other weekend and Wednesday evenings, when it was my dad, James, and me. Contrary to what you may have read in a fifth-grade composition on the wall of Holy Trinity Catholic School, we did the three-person life for a few years and Michael Jackson was the soundtrack to that time. The "Bad" album...the three of us in the Cadillac driving to St. Luke's every day for school. I have no idea if we listened to that tape(!) for a week or for three years, but in my memory it is three years. We would all sing because, until I hit middle school and crippling awkwardness, we always sang.
Thriller and Billie Jean are his biggest hits and I love to hear them anytime, anywhere. The Jackson 5 (even with my new realization about I Want You Back) are epic and I listen to them when I run and when I need to get pumped up. Because I was born during the heydey of Thriller, my Michael Jackson is one who came later. He's the Michael from the "Bad" album, singing Bad, Man in the Mirror, I Just Can't Stop Lovin You, Dirty Diana, and The Way You Make Me Feel. He's the Mike who sang at the 1988 Grammys with the gospel choir. I remember being totally certain that the words to Man in the Mirror were "and no Mustang's gonna stand and deliver" which seems ridiculous now, but in my defense I was six and saw a mustang on the water tower near Grapevine High School thousands of times as a small child.
This time in our lives was brief (I can't even find a photo) and I don't remember it very well. It was unique because that time is the only time I can remember seeing my father regularly, which was awesome (we listened to Don Henley and Bonnie Raitt in the car with him--one tape with two sides that he called the "Bon and Don tape"...so Steve Dykgraaf). These are the years of my life that would have made a great Judy Blume novel (and when I started reading Judy Blume). It's also a time in my life that I don't think about often, but I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since I heard the news about Michael. All of the blessings I've received since those few years (a wonderful stepfather, another brother, a kind and generous stepmother, a baby sister, and countless ready-made family members) have eclipsed the Kath-Kate-James time.
I want to call these the "Bad" years, but they were anything but. Thanks, Michael, for being our soundtrack. The world thanks you for your music and I forgive you for singing the lyrics to I Want You Back. Please forgive me for saying that "we should have known then" because I only said it because it was an easy thing to say. Your life is flawed and problematic, but your musical legacy is still intact.
Below is a piece of my Michael Jackson. Since I can't show you a video of the three of us singing Dirty Diana in a white Cadillac, this will have to do. I do love a gospel choir.
