Leave him alone

They plan to put you on display this week like some political maverick or religious pundit. Your loving family; your father's already talking about a record company he wants to start. They haven't put you in the ground yet, but they'll never let you rest.

Everyone else seems considerably more upset than some of those closest to you. There's a hint to where your famous idiosyncrasies took root....right there. Up close and way too personal. Who can be surprised at the way you were?

If there ever was a human dichotomy, you were it. The Sybil of the music world...the harrowing childhood that created two different people from shoe to soul. A dynamic, unparalleled personality on stage. An unhappy, lonely man-child off stage. How it must have hurt.

Did you have a friend? One? Maybe among the few who haven't turned this into a photo op yet...to get on air and tout their friendship with you, the man they 'knew so well.'

But they never knew you in life as they'll know you now. You'll be a major source of profit for years to come. You'll be exploited to the hilt and then some. Millions will be made on your death. Like Presley, you will be studied, examined, explained, vilified, made sport of, missed , remembered, loved. Your music will play forever like an old 45, as will your fame and your infamy, truth or not. You will be more spoken of now than ever.

They say you knew how you would die. What kind of life is that?

How can we not be moved, even though our materialistic society is filled with ego-centric , superficial people. Millions of them. They'll remember you, one way or another. Maybe for your quirks, your genius, your fashion, your money, your voice, your excesses, your musicality, your misfortune, your shyness, your empire, your moonwalks, your conflicts, your globality, your humanitarianism, your family, your talent, talent, talent.... They will remember you.

But right now, you're waiting for the peace you'll never get.

What you must think of us now.

MJ

The man who seemed bigger than life is dead.

Who didn't know his name? He wasn't a politician, a dictator, a murderer. He never hurt anyone. He made us feel good. Many of us take his death personally. I feel like part of my past has been torn away. He was someone I grew up with. We all grew up with. I remember singing his songs as a child. He was entertainment. I loved his music, his dancing, his creativity.

But I always felt sorry for him personally. I believe he was manipulated and taken advantage of at every turn throughout his entire life; he had no childhood and very, very few friends....real friends. I believe his private self was disturbed because of all this, and he suffered in more and greater ways as he aged; I can only feel for him. But his real self, his energy, his passion, his reason-to-be, his professionalism came out on stage, and for that I will always remember him. His genius, his extraordinary talents may never be seen again.

We have lost something rare and beautiful, and I will miss him.

checking in

Two interviews in the last two weeks. I guess I'm not done, after all. Another one with Widener, and a second in Radnor. Either would feel like going home again. Anything else? Oh yeah, a birthday, an anniversary, a nice PTO dinner, a mammogram, a new air condensor for the house, and we're redoing the attic, my folks fly in, we all see TJ in concert, Peggy moves to FL, my boy's out of school. A busy month and it's not half over.

I got a feeling I'm just going to be too tired for July.

Another month

It's gone! May. What happened? It's already my birth month...my anniversary month, TJ's birth month, the b-day for two close friends. Already. Time doesn't just fly by anymore; it evaporates.

I had an interview last week. I thought a good interview but I've been wrong so many times now, I'm just trying not to think. When the interviewer asks your salary requirement the first time you meet her and then says: "If we can't hire you, would you be able to work for us as a freelancer?" You sort of know it's over. So there's really nothing left to think about anyway.

That's OK. I don't really expect to work again at a full-time, benefit paying, pension-able writing job. That's a lost dream. But at least I have freelance. That's a good thing.

The termite man came this morning and sprayed us down...glad I kept that contract alive. Now we're working on getting our air conditioner replaced and fixing the roof where it leaks. We've forgotten about the deck...again. We've done that 15 years running now.

Anyway, on to the day. Weather's good. Flowers blooming. Anything could happen. Ciao.