

As the years went on, we saw the transitions in Michael, in his music, his life, in his physical attributions. Many called him a lunatic, some mad man who wanted to be white, but he ailed from a skin condition. then we watched the trails of the molestation accusations. The woman who claimed Michael abused her son seemed just as wacky on stand. Who knew the truth? All I know is that I felt so appalled and sad about what the publicity that ensued over him after that. Was he just an innocent soul who got messed up pretending he was still a kid?
So many people came out to give him tribute after the news of his sudden death. People from all walks of life and from everywhere. I was amazed at the outpouring. My hope is that this generous spirit won't leave if his three children need something along the way. What is their fate? Is their any money left to support them? Wouldn't it be a wonderful thing if all those people in England didn't ask for their refund back on the concerts he had planned in July? He obviosly wanted to make some to save face, to save himself, to earn money again. If he had remained an ordinary man on the street asking for help, would one give it to him? I wonder.
Tonight I listened to a compilation of songs he did over three decades. Astounding music. I sat in my chair, bobbed my head, snapped my fingers to Bad, Billie Jean, Thriller, and just absorbed whenever he sang a melodic song, like Man in the Mirror, or something poignant and stirring, like You're not alone. The man had absolute talent and in spite of what was portrayed in his public life, in music, he was blessed. Very blessed. He was definetely King of Pop.
So rest in peace Michael. I will always cherish my LP Thriller albulm and all the memories of your moonwalk, your white glove, and the fantastic moves you displayed in your dances.