It was certainly odd, yet at the same time somehow appropriate, when I was washing my hands in a bar bathroom last night that a guy standing in front of a urinal suddenly blurted out, “Michael Jackson is dead, man. I can’t believe it. What do you think?”
Odd timing to share his thoughts and open up a discussion with a stranger, I thought. Of course Michael Jackson’s life was nothing less than odd, his death certainly stranger.
After I agreed and said it was quite shocking, a voice emanated from a stall: “That guy was a freak!”
Maybe he was talking about the guy at the urinal.
I’ll forego the character assessment that will plague the Jackson obituaries in the days to come and focus on Jackson as a musical genius and cultural icon. I never rode the Ferris wheel at his Neverland Ranch and I didn’t attend his sleepovers, so I’m going to stray from the gray areas of his colorful life and talk about the other times that Jacko and I were tight. The good times with Mike.
Like the Bar and Bat Mitzvahs growing up.
Michael Jackson may as well have been a cantor for us young Jews blossoming into adulthood. “Bad” came out six years before my friends and I turned 13, but the album rocked the temple the way it rocked the charts. It was both heartwarming and scary to see dozens of ‘90s pre-teen Jews attempt to Moonwalk across the floor during a song that transcended cool; and our dorkishly-themed celebrations were often tailored after the King of Pop, complete with white gloves as party favors that would have printed across the knuckles something along the lines of, “Benji’s Bar Mitzvah Was A Thriller! 06/26/93.”
As my friend Hunter wrote in a text to me this morning, “A piece of my childhood died yesterday.”
Yes, through Bar and Bat Mitzvahs, Sweet 16 bashes, and high school graduation parties, Michael was there for all of it. Though none of us could ever truly master the Moonwalk as effortlessly as Michael, we could commonly be seen doing the “Running Man,” a favorite ‘90s dance of ours that has clear family ties to Jackson’s gliding strut.
Back in college, “I Want You Back” became a fun trademark for my fraternity, with each pledge class coming up with its own choreographed dance to the song – as we donned 70s thrift shop garb – to be performed in front of all the sororities. The humiliation was bliss: the ladies loved every second of the show. As far as I know, it’s a tradition that’s continued through the years since.
MJ’s there for the important moments in adulthood, too. At engagement parties or wedding receptions, we still hear bands belt out their own versions of Jackson’s “The Way You Make Me Feel,” a song that really turns the dancing on. No champagne necessary. And of course, I can't even fathom how many fathers dance with their daughters to "I'll Be There" during those very same receptions, too.
Yet perhaps nothing is more impressive than Michael Jackson’s impact on Halloween. Michael found a way to make a holiday that’s supposed to be for the kids especially fun for the adults. I don’t know if he considered that when he filmed “Thriller,” but the song that spent 37 weeks at #1 will spend an eternity atop our Halloween playlists. No bar, club, or house party can commence a Halloween evening without blasting the song that turned into what I consider the greatest music video ever created.
There’s even that viral video of 1,500 jailbirds in the Philippines performing the “Thriller” dance. If you haven’t seen it, you should. Those guys don’t get out much.
Be it “Beat It,” “Billie Jean,” “Smooth Criminal,” “Man in the Mirror,” or “Don’t Stop Til You Get Enough,” all of the songs that ascended Michael Jackson to “King” status are still heard as if they’ve just debuted at our favorite local watering holes, our coming of age celebrations, our birthdays, our anniversaries, and so on.
Michael Jackson’s character, for the most part, died years ago. Through all of the legal issues, surgeries, and life choices that tainted his image, his music never aged a day. At least not for the good times in our lives.
Even in death, Michael Jackson will never cease to be the life of the party.
