Today the life of Michael Jackson was celebrated.
In this day and age, anyone that dies at the age of 50 is passing too soon.
Michael grew up in a musical family and was phenomenal. From dictionary.com we get this: Phe*nom"e*nal\, a. [Cf. F. ph['e]nom['e]nal.] Relating to, or of the nature of, a phenomenon; hence, extraordinary; wonderful.
That he was, troubles and all. His personal troubles probably stemmed from being over-managed by his father, much like Elvis was brutalized by the Colonel.
As a performer, he was perfection personified. He pushed his voice and his body to their limits. Anyone that attended his concerts came away mesmerized, having been feted to a banquet of sound and sight, shared by the thousands in attendance.
Little Michael grew up, had a family of his own and lavished love on them. He didn’t know where to stop with his generosity.
He created “Thriller” - and how do you follow that? Should you fold your tent and do the occasional tour, retire, or push on? Michael pushed his need for perfection inside.
He fretted over his physical appearance. He endured pain to get somewhere that his body would not take him. His ears seemed more attuned to the voices of detractors than to those that loved him.
Legal matters chased him away from his creation of Neverland and then to his last rented home.
His legacy is his music: hundreds of songs, memories in millions of hearts and that thing that is simply wonderful.
Thank you, Michael. You were a tender and loving thriller. © Tim http://www.timjohnsonphoto.com/
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