the thriller

icons pass on all the time. those of us who have enjoyed length of years have seen many of them go--some, way too soon.

today, the king of pop joined that exclusive club.

michael jackson was eight months and 26 days younger than me. he belonged to me. like many girls growing up in the late '60s and early '70s, i, too, embraced the jackson 5. they were the definitive entertainers and sex symbols of our generation. and although michael was unbelievably cute and tremendously talented he wasn't my favorite. i saved all my love for marlon and was sure that we would some day marry.


that said, i have every michael jackson album ever printed. as a kid my bedroom walls were covered with pictures of him and his brothers. i saw every j5 and every jacksons tour. and i drove more than 100 miles to see mike's "bad" tour in the late '80s at rfk stadium in d.c.

every event, every experience, every memory--extraordinary.

i was sitting at home watching the cnn coverage on farrah fawcett's death when i got a call from essence.com saying that tmz was reporting that michael jackson had been taken to the hospital, a victim of cardiac arrest. i was running late for an appointment but told the girl on the phone i would make a few calls. no one responded before i had to leave but the news was confirmed on kfi-am en route to my destination.

before i had a chance to digest this news my celly literally began blowing up with friends from around the world calling and texting.

"michael?"
"is it true?"
"it's not good."

and by the time i had gotten to the "lincoln heights" set:

"girl, tmz is reporting that he's dead!!!"

surreal doesn't even begin to describe it.

like many people i found michael to be a bit odd, weird. but given all that he had purportedly gone through as a child, and as a young adult, i can understand why he wanted to hang out with chimps and why he would purposely wear pajamas to court. i realized the first time i met him it ain't easy being green.

you can't, however, take away his impact on pop culture or ignore his enormous talent. he was, as many others will say in the coming days, one of a kind.

so, those of us who were weaned on "i want you back," "abc," "the love you save," "i'll be there," "dancing machine," "maybe tomorrow," "ben," "don't stop till you get enough," "rock with you," "thriller," "billie jean," "man in the mirror" and all the other gems should just remember the young boy who once rocked our world and not the aging superstar from neverland who spent most of his adult life dancing down a rocky road.

be proud that you lived long enough to experience the magic that was michael jackson.

i know i am.

a time to smile--again

it has been a horrendously stressful week. another health scare with dad. extreme back pain. more disappointing news. so, i needed a sunny sunday. thankfully, my wish was His command.

it all started out really well. despite my vicodin hangover i made it to the 8 a.m. service at west angeles and was extremely elated that no one gave me attitude because i wasn't wearing first sunday sequins like 95 percent of the other women.

i was, however, blinded by the bling--particularly the multi-carat ice adorning the hands of pauletta washington (mrs. denzel) and cookie johnson (mrs. magic).

two hours later i headed over to the larchmont farmer's market. if i'm in l.a. there's no place i'd rather be on a sunday morning than larchmont village--mostly because it doesn't feel like l.a.

it gives me peace.

although i'm usually alone when i go to the market i'm never really alone. more often than not i'm on my iphone talking to a friend on the east coast. this morning it was marilyn monroe--yes, that's her real name. marilyn, who lives on long island, is a great listener and an even better storyteller so our conversations are always lively. plus she has this amazing ability to bring you out of the deepest funk, and can be very encouraging, too. this morning she convinced me that buying a small tin of five-cheese, high fat, severely caloric, artery-clogging mac-and-cheese would be a very, very good thing.

she was right. i bought it and served it up with the bbq tofu, baked beans and salad i had for dinner. sure, it raised my blood pressure 16 points but was well worth it.

my initial plan once i returned home was to spend a quiet afternoon reading my new books--"vegan soul kitchen" and "let's get it on"--but i got a little antsy after dinner and hit the road. i was hoping that i could convince my friend janet to play tennis.

that didn't happen.

she wanted to watch the fakers and nothing depresses me more these days than the thought of them winning another NBA title. so, i came home, drew a bath and was all set to settle down with jill nelson's sexual tome but i couldn't keep my eyes open. after taking a little disco nap in the tub i retired to the living room to watch a little tv. nothing in my 300-channel universe piqued my interest so i decided to watch an awards show.

i have never ever watched the tony awards but i was curious after reading several posts on how cool tonight's show was on facebook. and although most of the nominees and shows (save for the revivals) were unfamiliar to me, i found the vibe rather engaging. broadway is like this giant cesspool of acceptance.

bring me your blacks, your whites, your straights, your gays, your young, your old and everyone in between.

wouldn't mind going to that after-party--especially with the folks who were in that room.

like liza minnelli, damn, she's sounding just like her mom. wow, susan sarandon's gown is hella tight. neil patrick harris, the boy done good--especially on that closing number. how nice that the first winner mentioned diana sands. elton john, forever the diva. anne hathaway, stunning. james gandolfini is in a broadway show? who the hell is hallie foote and that chick who is screaming her acceptance speech? why does almost everyone accepting awards have a british accent? is there no work at the old vic? ah, tasha richardson. she was so cool.

man, i just realized that i've interviewed all of those people except the guy whose name i can't remember, the late diana sands, that hallie chick and the screamer.

anyway, i digress.

as sundays go today won't be all that memorable because other than watching the tonys i didn't do anything out of the ordinary. at church bishop blake reminded us how lucky we were to still be alive.that's true. my biggest blessing, however, is that my dad made it through.

here's hoping the sun comes out tomorrow, too.