I really don’t know what I’m doing here.

I mean, Michael Jackson was a tremendous force in the music world throughout every decade that I have seen life. I was born in the 60’s, when he lit up the stage as a kid with the Jackson 5. I learned about all forms of music in the 70’s when his “Off The Wall” album skyrocketed to the top of the charts. I went through my teen years in the 80’s, when “Thriller” became a record that sold more than any that had come before it (and as a matter of fact, any since, too).  In the 90’s, as I started to become a (somewhat) responsible adult, Michael was still “Dangerous.” And now, even in the 00’s decade, Michael Jackson was still an active icon to so many around the world.

But I’m still not sure why I’m here.

As I type this, I’m listening to the news flood in, and somehow “Jack-O” just sounds harsh. Sure, I was unashamed to laugh at a joke or giggle at the man’s personal woes; but suddenly I feel shame and guilt. I always respected his immense talent, both as a child and an adult. The man was electrifying, even as a pre-teen. Just listening to the early Jackson 5 material, you could hear the line being drawn in the sand. On one side was little Michael Jackson, on the other side was everyone else. As little Michael became big Michael, nothing changed. Michael was still a world apart.

Michael Jackson is dead now.

I remember when Thriller hit so big. I was just getting out of elementary school, and I always had a healthy dose of Judas Priest or Scorpions music screaming out at me from somewhere. All the classic rock and metal stuff was cool, Michael Jackson was not cool. At least that’s what we all told each other. I started to find myself waiting for Thriller cuts to hit on the radio, though. I eventually picked up the album, and I even went out and bought the “The Making of Thriller” video. I remember thinking to myself, “What’s wrong with me?!” Everybody loved this stuff, but as a metalhead you had to keep that fact hidden under your spiked wristband.

It was the oxygen chambers, the bizarre plastic surgery, the accusations of sexual abuse, the apparent skin discoloration disease, the childlike persona, and on and on and on and on. This is what kept people talking for much of Michael’s life. Here was a performer that, arguably, was the most dynamic the world has ever seen, and all of his talents were eclipsed by horrific personal challenges totally unrelated to his career. How is that possible?! I always found that to be the most incredible thing about Michael Jackson.

Did I think Michael Jackson was strange? Of course I did.

Do I believe Michael Jackson touched a few young boys inappropriately? Yes, I do.

I also believe that he truly and honestly loved them, and thought in his heart that he was showing them love. I believe that Michael Jackson was emotionally disturbed and very ill mentally.

So as I sit, typing away, I’m still not sure why I’m here.

This “freak” who sexually abused little boys is no longer with us. Shouldn’t I feel that the world is a safer place? Why do I feel guilty for using the word “freak,” or even talking about this?

I know why.

It’s because I don’t care about any of that.

I have always put the music first. It’s always been, and always will be, all about the music with me. Michael Jackson moved and shaped my life with his musical talents, and now he’s gone. I will always feel enlightened when I hear that voice sing “Rockin’ Robin.” I will always think about the person I really am when I listen to “Man In The Mirror.” And I will always be excited to see clips of Michael doing the Moonwalk.