My name is Andrew. I was born, raised and still live in the Phoenix area in Arizona. I am 28 years old. I’m married and I have two children.
One of my very first memories is from when I was four. I was playing with my toys on the floor in the living room. My mother was in the kitchen. The TV was on but I wasn’t really paying attention. I found my toys much more interesting. My attention wasn’t drawn to the television until I heard those first seven chords. Seven chords that were so powerful and unique that they demanded you look up to find out where they had come from. The song was “Beat It” and it was the first time I’d ever laid eyes on Michael Jackson. I was completely mesmerized.
When my mother came back into the room she was surprised and amused to find her four year old son on his feet and in front of the television, doing his best to sing and dance like the man on TV. At least until she discovered that, in trying to decipher the lyrics, her young son had unintentionally created a new variation of an expletive that he was singing in place of the word “funky”. This mistake was quickly corrected but the experience I’d had at this young age was not quickly forgotten.
Whether it was through intense begging, as I was accustomed to as a means to receive something I really wanted at this age, or the seemingly instant obsession I’d developed with Michael Jackson and his music, which was pointless to deny, I can’t remember. But it wasn’t very long before I had my very own cassette tape of Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” in my hands. From there I purchased his next three studio albums (Bad, Dangerous, HIStory) almost as soon as they were released, the movie “Moonwalker” (which I still own), a pair of Michael Jackson L.A. Gear sneakers and I hold what I figure must be an unofficial record for the most times seeing “Captain EO” in one trip to Disneyland (17 times).
It was shortly before HIStory that I had started drifting away from his music. Firmly into my teenage years, I had started moving more heavily toward other kinds of music and Michael fell into the background. I would also be lying if I said I wasn’t affected by the child abuse allegations. This hit me hard. It’s difficult to process when people start saying that one of your heroes has done something so terrible. I never believed he did it but I do regret how far I let it push me away from someone I looked up to. I didn’t know how to handle it. When people would bring it up or crack jokes I would just get really quiet. It hurt me to see how he was being treated and moreover how that treatment seemed to start effecting him. I couldn’t bear to watch. So I all but ignored it… and him. I honestly wish I hadn’t. It was not one of my proudest acts. I also wish that the event that rekindled my love for his music would not have been his untimely passing. It’s still hard to believe that he’s gone.
When I heard, it didn’t really sink in. I had just arrived home earlier from work and was looking forward to the extra time to relax that afternoon. My brother called me. I couldn’t believe it. Literally. I didn’t realize until the memorial how much I had not accepted it. I remember turning on the television and getting online. Both mediums were absolutely dominated with what little news their was to report of Michael’s passing. Seven of the ten trending topics on twitter were related to Michael.
I would like to say I was glued to the news coverage. I would like to say I was online, pouring out the agony in my heart over the loss of my hero. I wasn’t. I turned the news coverage off after less than an hour and started complaining on Twitter that, although I understood how monumental a loss this was and people had a need to grieve, I didn’t think Michael Jackson needed 7 spots on the trending topics and that he had pushed the #iranelection hash tag off the list. I thought I was just detached and annoyed by the coverage. Truth is that I just couldn’t bring myself to deal with the idea that Michael had actually died. I just closed off and ignored it like I usually did when it came to news about Michael.
My family members would casually ask me how I was handling his passing and I would just brush it off like I didn’t know why they’d think it was that big a deal to me. It wasn’t until the memorial, more specifically young Paris Jackson, that I finally broke down. I had made a video and posted it to my YouTube account the day before that was partially about Michael but also about rumors, mob-mentality and fear. In this video I felt like I had given voice to the confused and distant state I’d been in regarding Michael in recent years and had finally gotten it off my chest.
The next day was my day off. Though I slept in so late that I missed the memorial. But my wife and children soon left to go shopping and I then found myself watching the news stations to find out when I could watch a replay of the memorial. When I saw the clip of Paris I just fell apart. I watched for hours as they replayed various clips from the service. I dug out the only Michael Jackson album I had left (HIStory, only one I bought on CD) and started listening to it. In doing so, I started remembering. Remembering how I felt listening to this music. Remembering how deep in my heart it had gone. Remembering what I love about Michael Jackson.
Later, I caught the full replay of the memorial service. But before that, my family arrived back home. My oldest daughter (9 years) came to me, new Hannah Montana CD in hand, asking me if I could help her put some music on her iPod. I said “sure” and she asked me what I was listening to. A few songs and a music video later, my daughter, at her request, left with both her new CD and Michael Jackson on her iPod. I even caught her listening to Michael later that evening. 
At this point I could tell you that Michael Jackson was a brilliant entertainer, an incredibly kind person and the first artist whose work I felt such a close and passionate connection to. That he is already missed but he will never be forgotten. That I love Michael Jackson and, as a fan, I feel the pain of his passing. That is all true. But instead, I will simply say thank you. Thank you, Michael. For everything you gave us. For everything you meant to us. For everything you were. Thank you for being my hero.
Sincerely,
Andrew
