A sad day indeed

I was sad, but not surprised to learn earlier today that Farrah Fawcett had died. Shortly after, I heard about Ed McMahon. Sad, but again not so surprising.

Just an hour ago, I read that Michael Jackson has also left us.

I stared at the screen for a few minutes, dumbfounded. Normally, celebrity deaths don't bother me. They are just people and people die all the time, right? But Michael Jackson... As a child of the eighties, to me there has never been a time that he didn't exist. He was always there, a constant dose of mild insanity, a glittering monolith, the undisputed King of Pop.

And now he's gone. It's strange to imagine a world without him. Is it a better world? Considering the many accusations leveled against Jackson over the last sixteen(?) years, maybe it is. As mother to a little boy myself, I can certainly understand the outrage and fear that has been directed towards him. On the other hand, however inexcusable his actions may have been, without Jackson's influence, popular music as we know it today would not exist. It begs the question: do we discount the art because of who or what the artist is? His publicity marriages, questionable parenting, and other acts of disreputable behavior are beginning to fade from my memory already.

All that remains is a single, sparkling glove, a dance, and a beat that never ends...