R.emembering I.cons P.assed
It’s funny how certain individual people become time capsules for the rest of us. Seeing their picture, hearing their songs snaps us back to a period of our own lives instantly. I’ve had lots of conversations in the last couple of days since one of the biggest symbols from the seventies and THE personification of the eighties died within hours of each other Thursday.
These people help us communicate our place generationally in an instant. I was speaking to an older lady at work who described how she went to a beauty shop and asked for anything besides the Farrah Fawcett since that’s all anyone was wearing. I laughed and told her I had gone and asked for the “Rachel from Friends,” before I realized I was part of a whole wave of twenty-somethings doing the same thing.
Now I’m sitting here happily in the midst of an all-day Michael Jackson video fest with my little girls. It’s really nice to share him with them. I was in the third grade in 1983 and I don’t know anyone who wore the vinyl as thin on “Thriller” as I did. And I was going to marry him.
It’s difficult, but you have to ignore twenty years of baffling and tragic images to be able to truly embrace how amazing he was. I liked his music through Bad, but I had to stop watching the videos long before. He was the personification of cool. From the sparkly socks to the lighter than air moves.
The three of us were remarking on how great his dancing was.
“He was the best,” I say. “There was never anyone who danced like him.”
“Well, Miley Cyrus. She’s the best dancer,” offers Jesse.
I cough to cover my snort and disagree gently.
“And Pink,” Logan presses. “She’s a really good dancer.”
“Okay, sweetie.”
That horrifying mug shot was released three days after my girls were born. But now that his tragedy no longer confronts us, we can all be that girl in the Thriller video, rubbing our eyes as if from a nightmare. We can ignore all of the evidence that pointed otherwise and just focus on the fresh faced, talented twenty-something oozing cool and pretend there were never any monsters in the room.
John & I were watching some of the marathon yesterday too & doing the same thing…just sitting in awe. I had forgotten just how completely amazing he was in those videos. It’s doubtful that anyone will ever move quite like that again.
Miley & Pink huh? Um…I don’t think so.
I was saddened by his passing for all the reasons you mentioned, and couldn’t help but probe into the “he was beloved but never really knew love” scenario. Also, I thought of him while reading Beth Moore’s book on getting out of the pits of life…we’re born with an unction to know and worship a savior…and that savior had better be Jesus. Our culture tends to put people in His place, as it did to M. J…but…no one else but Jesus can…carry that kind of load.