The King of Pop
People sometimes ask, "Where were you and what were you doing when the Twin Towers fell?" Some even ask the same question about the death of Princess Diana. I was too young when she died to even know about it, but I clearly remember what I was doing as the airplanes crashed into the Twin Towers on 9/11. I was sitting in school, in my fourth grade classroom. A couple of girls were picked up by their mothers, which obviously aroused our curiosity. One girl asked me to pass a note to some other girl sitting next to me, and I was waiting for an opportune moment when the teacher's back was turned. Then, the intercom crackled, and I was told to go to the office because my mother was picking me up. I hastily handed the note to the intended recipient, earning a glare from the teacher, and I rushed downstairs. As my mother and I were walking home, she explained what had happened to me. Back then, Manhattan seemed so far away, and I did not feel the full impact of the event. Once I got home, I realized just how major it was when I turned on the TV and was greeted by images of the falling buildings on every single channel.
There are many such historical events that are later vividly remembered and recounted. The most recent was Michael Jackson's untimely death and the speculation that followed.
I was sitting at my computer, probably blogging or checking my email, when my mother passed by me and remarked that Michael Jackson just died. I held back my surprise, and silently did a Google news search. Various sources had different stories. Some said he went into cardiac arrest and was currently being treated at the hospital. Others claimed that he was in a coma, but was still alive. And then, there were those who reported that he died that very hour. Online journalism is a strange thing; you never know which story to believe and which to carelessly toss aside. One of my friends then called me to ask if it was true; I did not really know what to say. But within a couple of hours, it was confirmed that Michael Jackson had died.
At first, I was a bit in shock, and it took a while for it to sink in. Every single time I went to my Google or Yahoo homepage, I saw headlines about his death, and I was reminded of it over and over again.
I first started listening to his music when I was eleven or twelve. I still remember sitting at my computer and listening to those songs while flashes of color danced before me on the media player's background. Even more than that... I remember the smell of air freshener in the room, which was later associated in my mind with Michael Jackson. His CD was one of the first I ever got, and back when I only had three CDs, I would play his over and over again.
It is sometimes funny to see what you remember from the past. Very often, I find myself thinking about some very random, minor memories that are seemingly insignificant, and I don't usually understand why it is indelibly stamped on my mind. I remember when I was twelve and I went to sleepaway camp for the first time. It was the summer after sixth grade. We went on a trip to an amusement park, and the ride back was late at night. I was very tired after an exhausting day out in the sun, and it was dark in the bus, so I put on my headphones and thought of resting a bit. I ended up falling into a semi-conscious state to the sounds of Michael Jackson's music. I still remember hearing those songs as I was falling asleep; they sounded as if they were coming from underwater.
As the years passed by and I discovered other artists and bands, I started listening to his music less and less. When he disappeared after being acquitted a few years ago, I stopped following him. I mean, if I saw news articles about him, I would check them out, but I just did not really care that much anymore, to be honest.
And now, I just can't help but think about it.
I walked past a newsstand today, and his face was everywhere. He was on the cover of almost every magazine, and there were dozens of headlines screaming out at me about his career, the mark he left on pop, his life, the scandals, the rumors, and his death. I took a good look at the sight before me, and just stood there for a couple of minutes, taking it all in.
Fifty years from now, I might tell my grandchildren about it.
