When I was younger, and still to this day for the most part, when it comes to the music I listened to, I was a 60’s, 70’s & 80’s rock n’ roll guy (in the late 80’s they started calling it “classic rock” just in case I needed a reason to start feeling old).
As such I was never any particularly big fan of Michael Jackson, but I did appreciate his talent and got something of a kick out of his subsequent eccentricities — dare I say freakiness. But the thing that Jackson brought most to my life wasn’t the music, but that he made me fully appreciate the fact that, compared to him, I live a life of relative glitter-free obscurity. Michael Jackson made me feel good about who and what I was — and I suspect he had that effect on others.
Michael Jackson’s talent made him wealthy and famous, but he was obviously not very happy. No happy person maims himself the way he did or puts himself so blatantly in a position so as to be accused of the things he was accused of. And because Michael was famous as a child, he probably never knew who his real friends were. His family was continually in-fighting over reasons of money, control and no doubt jealousy. I’ve felt sorry for Jackson on numerous occasions, but certainly never envious.
Jackson may have had wealth and fame (the wealth was obviously dwindling in later years), but while everyone lauds the music he gave his fans, I’ll always remember him as giving me something more, and that’s to appreciate what I have a lot more than what I don’t have.
If I could write Michael Jackson’s epitaph, it would read, “Be careful what you ask for — you might get it.”
I hope Michael Jackson has finally found contentment, because I’m not sure he had it while he was here.