June 25,2009

On June 25, 2009
Booga and I were watching a biography of, guess who?
Yes, Chris Farley…He was in The Coneheads. So of course Booga is obsessed with him.
And so, Booga, being the channeler that he is, saw that Eddie Murphy was coming up next and since Eddie Murphy is uber cool, Booga decided that it would be great to watch that biography too.
So I let him.
I continued doing laundry and working on other things while Eddie Murphy was on Biography. It was a two hour long biography, that ran right through the evening news, which I tape on our DVR because every once in a while I am gone during the evening news and I find it important.
The fact that I allowed him to watch something besides the news at dinner was odd; because usually I don’t watch anything that might interfere with that particular part of television.
At one point I pulled my Blackberry from my purse and began to check on my messages because I didn’t want to bring up my computer just for email.
When I got into my in box there was an email from a friend telling me that Farrah Fawcett had died. In fact I had seen that earlier on the news.
This I expected.
I had watched her special about her cancer and I cried for her because I know what it’s like to watch someone go through cancer treatments. I’ve watched family members die of cancer.
Then someone, it might have been the same friend said, “Michael Jackson too.”
What? No no, that’s gotta be a mistake.
I frantically pulled up my Blackberry browser and searched it out….Sure enough….Michael Jackson was dead.
Wow.

When I was in my early twenties I had gone out and bought the “Thriller” album. I listened to it while I was showering in my parent’s basement and I had taught myself to do a version of the moon walk, so I could impress people I danced with when I was out with my friends….
Michael Jackson was a young man, who despite all the weirdness and odd surgeries, I still appreciated for that special part of my youth that was given to me without hesitation, in my early twenties for a mere few dollars.
So the next day, I downloaded the digital version and dug out my record and looked at a lovely young man on the cover who never needed to have had all those surgeries to be beautiful.
…And because you can hear my stereo outside in the neighborhood….I played the “Thriller” album very loudly and saw myself in my mind, being twenty and dancing in my bathrobe; my wet hair thrown up into a towel.
Thanks dude.
May angels sing thee to thy rest.