Michael Joseph Jackson and Human Nature

I loved Michael Jackson.

I grew up with him.

Upon learning of his passing, I was shocked by the force of my emotions. I wept.

Had it not been for my young daughter, I would have been glued to the television for hours, watching the endless tributes to him, only the tributes. (I immediately turn the channel when the coverage shifts to his, well, later years.)

Of course, I never met him, but as a young girl growing up in rural Louisiana in the late 1960s and early 1970s, I knew him.

Moreover, like every young "colored" girl in America, and around the world, I was in love with him.

As well, all the boys wanted to be him.

And his appeal was not limited to children.  After Jackson moonwalked into history during the "Motown 25" special, my older brother Fred was such a rabid fan that everything stopped when Michael was on TV. I mean, during these interludes, you risked bodily harm by straying into his line of vision, or saying anything untoward about Michael.  And my brother was married, with children at the time.

But I'm getting ahead of myself... 

I distinctly remember, in 1970, crowding around our black and white television to watch the Jackson 5 on the "Ed Sullivan Show" (and later on "Soul Train" and "American Bandstand"). I sat mesmerized as they sang "ABC," "I Want You Back," and "The Love You Save."

I don't think I blinked the entire time.

Mind you, during this near-Jim Crow era, it was no small thing to see five Black boys on national television. It was like the world had stopped--and it had changed.

Soon thereafter, for two years, I looked forward to Saturday mornings, just to watch "The Jackson 5ive" cartoon series. Of course, there were five of them, but it was all about Michael.

It always was.

And that's not to dismiss Jermaine, Tito, Jackie, Marlon, and Randy. This is just...what God loves: the truth.

Maybe it was his distinctive, lilting voice. Then too, Michael was such a beautiful boy, who grew into a tall, handsome young man. Pity, he never knew just how good-looking he was, what with that delicious brown skin, strong nose, kind eyes, and shy smile.

And it was all topped off with his trademark afro.

Why, I used to save up my pennies to buy every issue of Right On!, only to later spend hours gazing at my Michael on the glossy pages of the magazine.

And everybody that I knew wanted one of those fringed suede vests.

But one of my fondest, earliest, and most distinct memories is of attending a Jackson 5 concert. Maybe it was 1973. I thought I had died and gone to heaven.

I remember that we all piled into my father's beige and black Ford LTD for the hour-long drive to the Monroe Civic Center. As I think back to that special night, I'm amazed that I didn't pass out from holding my breath for such long periods.

And I wonder what sacrifices my father must have made to realize this dream of mine--and my brothers and sisters. For, although I didn't know it at the time, we were dirt po'.

But that's another story, for another day.

Since the transition of "The King of Pop," I've been ruminating, and try as I might, I don't think I can isolate one favorite Jackson song. I do know that I lean toward the ballads. "Who's Loving You?" and "Never Can Say Good-bye" come to mind.

And there are few examples of such raw, unbridled talent as the rare footage of 5 year-old Michael singing "Tobacco Road," which was reportedly his favorite childhood song.

Perhaps, though, the "Man in the Mirror" resonated most with me. After all, the lyrics are words that we can all live by: "No message could've been any clearer. If you wanna make the world a better place...take a look at yourself, and then make that change!"

In the years to come, when she is older, this is one of the first of his songs that I'll play for my daughter Khepera, who saw me cry for the very first time as I tried to come to grips with the loss of my first love, Michael Jackson.

Why am I so moved?

Let's just call it "Human Nature."  I think it's just that we never imagine that our idols will fall, especially those who are larger than life.

And Michael Jackson was the largest of the large.

Yes, I know about his later years, his eccentricity, and all the accusations. But right now, I choose not to remember that--and how he was savaged by the media, who treated him like he was not flesh and blood, with human feelings.

Well, yesterday Michael reminded us that he was human.

Indeed.

At long last, Michael Joseph Jackson, rest in peace...with the knowledge that you are loved--in spite of your human frailties.

Black Music Month will never be the same!  And nor will the world music pantheon.