I have been sitting here this morning, looking at at the gray clouds and watching the never-ending silvery drops of water fall from the sky in an almost hypnotically rhythmic fashion, willing myself to not go back to bed, crawl under the covers and sink into the sweet oblivion that sleep offers me. In doing so, I have been thinking about the events of the past several days, especially the deaths of Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson.
Undoubtedly, Fawcett and Jackson were icons of my generation. I grew up watching Charlie's Angels and instantly fell in love with "Farrah Hair" and spent years attempting to get my naturally curly hair to "feather" just like Farrah's did. This was as close as I got...
I was only 5 when Fawcett married one of my childhood heroes, The Six Million Dollar Man, (Lee Majors), but was a prepubescent teen when they divorced in 1982. I was crushed. How could they split up? Didn't they really love one another? I guess there would never be any Majors-Fawcett babies with gorgeous hair. Alas, I still had hope that Majors would eventually marry The Bionic Woman (Lindsay Wagner) and they'd have lots of bionic babies together. So much for the dreams of a southern California pre-teen. Besides, ordinary toddlers are scary enough...can you imagine the havok a bionic toddler could wreak? That's the stuff of nightmares! Of course, I can say this now, as a mother who has parented five toddlers and is currently parenting one.
I digress.
Unlike my obsession with Farrah and her hair, I never really got very attached to Michael Jackson when he exploded all over the music and video scene. Mine was the generation that birthed MTV and whilst my parents didn't want me spending my time being consumed by all things music-video, they did buy Thriller when it came out on video. Being a HUGE Vincent Price fan (how many other little kids did you know, growing up, who sat, glued to the TV whenever ANYTHING with Vincent Price came on? Yeah, I was that kid!), and an enormous fan of horror films, I was intrigued by the video. The dancing was mesmerizing and I'd never seen anyone move like Jackson did. Was I as entranced and enamored of Jackson's other stuff? Not so much. During the time he owned the music scene, my tastes were more in line with Judas Priest, Motely Crue, Ozzy Ozbourne and then turning to bands like Depeche Mode and The Cure. If I were asked what my favourite Michael Jackson song would be, I'd have to say "Scream." It's not coated in that sugary "pop" goodness that infests the Top 40 charts. It's edgy, a little dark and that's what attracts me to it.
Even though my cassette collection (yes, I am indeed that old!), and eventual CD collection never contained anything by Jackson, I still understood and had respect for the immense talent he possessed and how he changed the landscape of music and video during my generation, and how his influence spread to other artists over the past three decades. I'd be dishonest if I said I didn't find him a tad bizarre and wondered from time to time if any of the allegations made against him were true. During my career in radio and voice work and all my time spent on the air, I never met him, or even came close to meeting him. Those who I worked with who knew him personally, never had anything but the highest regard and utmost respect for him. To me that said something. I might have found Jackson to be a little strange...but that was simply an outsider's view into his world.
The bottom line; there is no denying his genius and his effect on not only the music world, but the creative aspect of being an artist in an industry that craves the next big thing. Jackson was, without a doubt, the biggest artist of my generation. You can't argue his humanitarian efforts or the difference he made in the lives of millions around the globe simply by virtue of his music. Music is a global language we all understand; his words echoed across oceans, over mountains and into hearts and minds the world over.
When the hubby, who had been downstairs watching television, came up to tell me Jackson had died, I met the news with not only a fair amount of shock, but a bit of skepticism as well. This was after all, Michael Jackson, the King of Pop; someone who lived life in a way most outsiders looked at as anything but normal. We'd all seen the headlines of his looming financial woes and various other crisis' in recent years. I wondered if this wasn't all a huge ploy to escape impending disaster. Eventually though, it sank in that this wasn't a hoax, that Jackson was indeed, dead.
For the next few days there was little else on the television, internet or radio other than Michael Jackson. So it's ironic that the Little Imp would find her introduction to Michael Jackson via his death. She is fascinated by the music and dancing and wants to watch little else other than Michael Jackson videos. She rarely ever sits to watch his videos. She is up and moving, dancing, (as I sit and pray that she doesn't start to imitate him grabbing his crotch!), and is singing along with him. She is moved much the same way my entire generation was moved and influenced by his music, his videos...his art.
As I sit back and watch the Little Imp's blonde curls bounce along to the tune of "Smooth Criminal" and listen to her sweet tiny voice sing along with the words, "....Annie are you okay, are you okay Annie?..." I ask myself, who will be the voice and sound of her generation? Who will she want to emulate? Who will move her to dance around her bedroom and inspire her to sing? Who will she find beautiful and style her hair after? Who will be the beat behind the bounce of her peers? Who will be the one to take them by storm, rock them, and be the thriller of her generation?
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