Ironic that my earlier post about Father’s Day would lead us to a California day winding down with the news of one of the greatest pop legends ever had gone home and, of course, my memories of Michael Jackson are linked to my dad. As a lovesick grade school girl dreaming of MJ babies in glitter diapers, I know I had my dad concerned. As a debating teenager, he and I would go back and forth on the sadness of popstardom happening to someone so young and, I reasoned, that would lead most people to carry a monkey around like a child. Forget even about crowding around the television set for the MTV debuts of Thriller and the Bad video (the Making of included), depleted and revived at the same time when both were finished playing. Let’s not even go to the joy I had watching the local dance show (”The Scennnnnnnnne” - which I’ve posted about here before) kids getting together in the apartment parking lots in the neighborhood, dressed in all their glory doing the EXACT “Thriller” choreography to the t. There was also the time that I literally almost punched a girl in front of school for getting the lyrics to “Beat It” wrong even though she believed in her heart that he was singing “No one wants to feel the beat of it” instead of the correct “No one wants to be defeated.” My heart was ablaze.
In high school, I was thrilled whenever a group of girls I was friends with, the B Phi Sweeties I think they called themselves, would line up and do the “Black or White” video, each different complexioned girl jumping up and then fading back so the next darker skinned girl could pop up.
As a summer latch key kid when my parents didn’t have money or resource to send me somewhere to occupy me better, I stayed home and listened to records. This is how I discovered “Off The Wall” (I was a bit young when it originally came out) and Diana Ross’s “Mahogany” in all their splendor. Even to this day, my favorite Michael Jackson song is “I Can’t Help It (If I Wanted To)” and I’ve spent many California afternoons/New York city nights blaring it out of my iPod, instantly lifted up.
Michael was a stranger to us all in the last decade or so, plagued with a deep rooted celebrity that went back to being so young, so early, so famous, so fast that none of us except for some recent starlets can even imagine. None of us will ever know what was going on in his head but all of us can probably understand the desire to change one’s self from what you were when it was all too much. I am not so lost on the concept of trying to become anyone other than the fame magnet but wanting to keep your talent and original message. Of course your body will give out when you stretch so far from such a bright star.
I Can’t Help It”[1st Verse]
Looking In My Mirror
Took Me By Surprise
I Can’t Help But See You
Running Often Through My Mind[2nd Verse]
Helpless Like A Baby
Sensual Disguise
I Can’t Help But Love You
It’s Getting Better All The Time
[Chorus]
I Can’t Help It If I Wanted To
I Wouldn’t Help It Even If I Could
I Can’t Help It If I Wanted To
I Wouldn’t Help It, No
[Chorus]
I Can’t Help It If I Wanted To
I Wouldn’t Help It Even If I Could
I Can’t Help It If I Wanted To
I Wouldn’t Help It, No
[3rd Verse]
Love To Run My Fingers
Softly While You Sigh
Love Came And Possessed You
Bringing Sparkles To Your Eyes
[4th Verse]
Like A Trip To Heaven
Heaven Is The Prize
And I’m So Glad I Found You Girl
You’re An Angel In Disguise
[Chorus]
I Can’t Help It If I Wanted To
I Wouldn’t Help It Even If I Could
I Can’t Help It If I Wanted To
I Wouldn’t Help It, No
And I’m So Glad I Found You Girl
You’re An Angel In Disguise
[Chorus]
I Can’t Help It If I Wanted To
I Wouldn’t Help It Even If I Could
I Can’t Help It If I Wanted To
I Wouldn’t Help It, No
[Repeat To Fade]
Normally I pour my tears out on a Father’s Day post but this year it’s simple. Yes, I miss my father. Yes, I feel him with me. I struggle with holding tight to images, smells, memories, songs. I still cry spontaneously over little triggers that remind me. I do have some miracles that have come out of this. My life has changed in two years in many ways, for the better for me (it isn’t really a question about if my life change has been better for others though I do think about that sometimes).
I still find injustice in the most obscure news related stories that have to do with fathers. For example, I do feel bad for the South Carolina Governor Sanford’s boys. They didn’t even hear from their dad on Father’s Day because he was in Argentina, unbeknownst to anyone but him and his paramour.
Yvie sent me a Sekou Sundiata video today and my link to my dad in that way is that Sekou met my dad at graduation and I could see some similarities in kindness and temperment that always make me ache. They’re both gone, Sekou and my dad. I hope they’re able to speak wherever they are.
Sekou Sundiata on Def Poetry Jam
There’s a father/daughter annual dance that happens in some parts of this country that makes me jealous. But then I still check myself that I did dance with my father at my brother’s wedding and I savor it in my head like a last meal. I am happy that I was able to appreciate that dance at the time. Fuck Hallmark.