Leave Michael Alone

When will these vultures stop? They tore Michael apart in life and now in death. I didn’t think anyone could stoop any lower until I learned the bed Michael Jackson died in will be up for auction. Are we fresh out of human decency? Michael was a human being with a heart, soul, mind, and spirit. Yet, people used and abused him as if he were an object. Radios are used less than Michael was in life. Michael took his last breath alone, scared, with the weight of the world on his shoulders, and in unspeakable pain. He felt abandoned in life and he was abandoned at the moment of death. How much suffering must one man endure? Michael’s death proved there are limits to suffering. Michael’s death proved it does matter how you treat people.

Entertainers are people, nothing more or less, just people. They cry salty tears just as we do. Painful words hurt them just as they hurt us. They are not immune to your hatred, insensitivity, cruelty, lies, and speculations, because they live in some perceived fantasy world. Nothing about the world they live in is a fantasy. However, the rest of you can’t see it, because you choose to close your eyes to the misery of others. You choose not to look beyond your existence. The world is bigger than what you see in front of you. You don’t have to walk in the shoes of the person next to you to know their suffering is as real as yours.

I remember saying as a kid, sticks and stone will break my bones, but words never hurt. It was absurd then as it is absurd today. Broken bones heal or can be fused together; I can’t say the same for the damage words leave behind. The sting of a bitter tongue can be greater than the force of a thousand swords. Viciousness slices through the core of our souls and most will forever wear the scars; not even death will hide them.

Michael is free from the brutality of your tongues. Never again will he shed a tear of pain. While Michael is free of your ignorance, his family is not. He has three beautiful children, a loving mother, caring father, devoted sisters, supportive brothers, and a list of caring relatives. They are all affected by the filth you spew. Why must they hear or read your unkind words simply, because you have the right to say them? With right comes responsibility. You are responsible for the misery your words inflict upon others. Michael’s family is forever changed by his loss. And just so you know, time doesn’t make death any easier. I’m never more than a blink away from the heartache of losing the people I dearly cherish. What sometimes get me through the day is listening to family & friends share loving memories of my dad and grandma. Entertainment families are no different. Hearing how Michael made a person smile makes another moment of peace for them attainable. On the other hand, listening to one of you fame-seeking parasites bash Michael, rips through them like a knife to the heart.

What is it about this family or entertainers in general make you think they aren’t deserving of love, kindness, and respect? What is it about this family or entertainers in general make you think they are immune to your hate? What makes you think the camera and the internet is your platform to hurt others? Have you not learned that words hurt? Have you not learned that words destroy people? Have you not learned that words kill? You have the right to feel whatever you feel and to think whatever you think; but you don’t have the right to weaponize your tongue against others.

Update: As of 11/15/2011, Michael’s death bed has been removed from the auction.

My Dad & Michael Jackson

As the second year anniversary of my father’s passing is rapidly approaching, I find myself thinking of him and Michael Jackson simultaneously. You see for me, my dad and Michael were two threads from the same glove. My dad groomed me to love Michael as he had grown to love him. He was born in 1956, Michael 1958, so he literally grew up with him. He followed the Jackson 5 career from the beginning and very much saw a place for himself within the family. The Jackson 5 music was his source of hope. Out of nowhere came a group of African-American boys setting the music world ablaze. He saw himself in them. He certainly understood poverty, heartache, sacrifice and struggle. Yet, here these kids were living a dream and while he was yet to discover his dream, Michael made him feel that anything was possible. As Michael grew older and embarked upon a solo career, my dad apparently thought so could he. He followed Michael’s career to the point where he felt Michael had been mentoring him for the business. By the time I came along in 1980, my dad was fully immersed in the Michael Jackson persona. He had the jheri curls, the red leather jacket, ankle length slacks, glittered socks and of course the white glove. He was always ready to break into the Thriller choreography at any given moment. Everyone called him Michael Jackson. As a very young child, I thought my dad was Michael. With everyone calling him MJ, who was I to say otherwise? His disappearing acts in and out of the tv, mystified me. I thoroughly investigated that tv, but I just couldn’t figure it out. I eventually concluded it was only something my dad could do.

I soon came to learn that my dad and Michael wasn’t one in the same. However, it didn’t change my connection to either. I had come to know Michael through the eyes of my dad, a man who truly loved and respected him. And during that age, my dad’s eyes were perfection. My dad didn’t have a storybook childhood, but seeing and living through Michael’s magic, dance, music, heart, and soul saved his. He always respected and admired Michael’s relentless dedication to his art and fans. I recall him saying once or twice that he always knew Michael’s smile masked a great deal of pain, but he masked that pain to bring others joy.

My dad’s Michael Jackson look-a-like phase ended in ’88 or ’89 with a shaved head, but his love and loyalty never did. When Michael was going through one of the most painful and humiliating times of his life in ’93, my dad was steadfast in his support of him. The case was everywhere and the topic of everyone’s conversation. My dad had taken up residence in another state a few years prior, leaving me to phone him about Michael’s plight. Before saying hello, I asked did he think Michael was guilty. He said, “no one with such a pure love for children would rob them of their innocence, and this was about money and the world would soon have to eat the ugliness they’d dished out towards him”. He then said, “the boy was lying and needed an ass whipping and the father needed an even bigger ass whipping”. Hey, he was from the south and they spanked/whipped kids back then. I told him it wasn’t the child’s fault, his dad made him lie. He replied with a “yeah, but at some point he could have told the investigators the truth and they would have protected him. You don’t help destroy a person’s life out of fear. Thirteen is old enough to know right from wrong.”

I miss the laughs Michael inspired around the house. We’d be watching one of his short films and up goes my dad mimicking his dance moves. My mom would say, “sit down, you’re blocking the man I’m really suppose to be with”. To this day, Bad is her favorite short film and she watches it regularly. She harassed me into buying her the History dvd so she could easily re-watch it. When Michael married Lisa Marie Presley, my dad’s response was, “it’s only fitting that a King would marry a King’s daughter”. I miss my dad all the time. He was one of a kind in every way. My dad had more than his fair share of faults, but he adored me. Despite everything else, I always knew he loved me and I will treasure that gift until my last breath.

The last words my dad ever spoke about Michael was a few weeks prior to his own death. His voice filled with grief, he said “I can’t believe they killed him”. He pierced my heart with the sadness of his voice. My dad was a strong and proud man, but not even he could hide his pain over Michael’s death. I hope Michael somehow knew what a profound impact he had on so many people lives. He gave more than any one man should have to give and it doesn’t seem like the world gave him anything in return. I pray that the love from his family and people like my dad outweighed the cross he had to bear.

Seven days after Michael was laid to rest at Forest Lawn, my dad died an hour after a surgery to remove a tumor from his throat. He was just 52 years old. I was uncomfortably familiar with death, but I never once thought of my dad dying just as I had never once thought of Michael dying. They were intertwined in life and now in death. I can’t think of my dad without thinking of Michael and vice versa. I remember the excitement on my dad’s face when he perfected the “man on skate move” from the Bad short film. He did it in slow motion and all. There were quite a number of hilarious ouchers during the process, but he eventually succeeded. Interestingly, my childhood friends never stopped calling him Michael Jackson. We lost touch as that tends to happen when you move away, however, I was recently able to reconnect with a few of them. Sure enough, they asked how “Michael Jackson” was doing. I couldn’t bring myself to utter the awful truth. I avoided the question and moved on. As we reminisced about the past, I wanted to hold on to the time when he was alive. I later informed them about my dad and explained the omission. They seemed to understand and sighed with me.

How do you say good-bye to a loved one? I’ve never learned and time refuses to teach me. Some days, my dad is very much alive. I continually make mental notes of things to tell him during our next phone conversation. I buy gifts for him or make plans to visit. I hate reliving his death. I feel as if I’m in a constant state of free-falling. Not very long ago, I was wrapped up in a moment of pure bliss and I needed to tell someone who would delight in my joy as much as I did. I dialed his number as natural as it is for me breathe. An unrecognizable voice answered the phone and that’s when I realized he was gone. The phone crashed to the floor as I stood numb against the wall. Only two people ever loved me unconditionally in this world and now they’re both gone. My grandmother and my father. When I lost her, my dad loved me more. Without speaking a word, he knew the impact her loss had on me. Now, in his abscess, no one is left to love me more or even at all. I miss you Dad and Michael and I will always love you.

Comment on how Michael influenced your life.

A Sad New Year

2011 will be a tough year for Michael Jackson’s family, friends, and fans with the involuntary manslaughter trial being in full swing. The real tragedy, with the exception of his death, is that in the end justice won’t be served. A possible four years in prison for a doctor administering a lethal dose of medication to a person outside of a medical facility is a slap in the face to Michael and his loved ones.

The Absence of Love

I can’t help but wonder if Michael Jackson had  been shown the amount of love and respect since his death during the last 17 years of his life, would he still be here today? 

It might come as a surprise to many of you, but celebrities are human beings with emotions too. What you say can and does hurt them. Be careful of your words, because they can be more lethal than a loaded gun.

Fly, Michael, Fly

It was difficult putting this video together. I miss you and I love you Michael.

Why Are People So Judgmental of The Jackson Family?

Growing up in the spotlight both negatively and positively affects your life. The Jacksons have suffered and overcame many adversities. There isn’t a number that exists to accurately count the trials and tribulations they have endured. The lack of privacy certainly hasn’t made their lives any easier. We all have ups and downs, but we are fortunate enough to live through them in private. Our humiliation, shame, sadness, and pain belongs to us and with whom we choose to share. They’ve never had a choice and society will never give them one. No road is obstacle free for them. If they take the public road then the questions are: why and who are they attempting to exploit, what are they hoping to gain, and why won’t they just go away. If they take the private road then it’s: why haven’t they given a statement, what are they hiding and why, and is the family feuding. Every single person they have ever met, encountered, looked at, blinked at, stood next to, spoken to, dated, married and have worked/collaborated with are endlessly harassed. That’s not even including the guards, hairstylist, makeup artist, cooks, nannies, lawyers, spokespersons, “friends”, doctors, dentists, I think you get point.  And all too often, many of those people are more than willing to sell them out.

The Jacksons live their lives in a constant state of paranoia and rightfully so. I think we all experience this to some degree, but certainly not on a global scale. Having to doubt every single person’s motive entering your life is mentally disturbing and exhausting. Their first thoughts are: why are they here, what do they want, and how will they try to hurt me and/or my family. It can be incredibly lonely and heartbreaking living that way. And, let’s not forget, that wasn’t the life they asked for, it’s the life society forced upon them. Can you imagine going to the doctor and the details of that visit are circling the internet before you step foot out of the office? Of course not.

Celebritism doesn’t change you, it changes how you have to live your life. It’s a new reality, one which differs from the rest of the species. The rules, regulations, guidelines, protocols and demands change daily, sometimes, by the second. But there is one universal, never-changing rule that all musicians/entertainers/movie stars/tv personalities etc. MUST adhere to: Suit up in the thickest, strongest armor you can find, because ready or not, the bullets are coming, not even death will stop them.

The quality I love most about the Jackson family is their foundation. A foundation built upon unity and love. No matter the size or duration of the storm, they have weathered them all together and it continues to reinforce their commitment and dedication to one another.

So, why do people judge The Jacksons? I don’t know. But, I’ll leave you with a little piece of advice. Be sure your foundation is as solid as The Jacksons are before you start throwing stones, because when they start bouncing back, the very first one may not only shake yours, but bring the whole thing down.

Rest In Peace

I don’t know if there is such a thing as peace in death, but if there is, I hope my dad and Michael have found it.