Yesterday two icons of my childhood died.
Even though we all knew that Farrah Fawcett was gravely ill, it was still very sad. She was the image of a specific time period, and somehow it seems she was never fully understood. To have suffered through her cancer was awful, as it is and has been for many other people – people less wealthy, with less support and opportunity. Nonetheless, her death represents the end of another time. I was 9 years old when that poster came out. It shaped the start of my puberty years. ’nuff said.
And Michael Jackson? That was a shock. Couldn’t have seen that coming. His talent was undeniable. Some of the first songs I remember listening to include the Jackson 5. And the last time I was interested in pop music, or his music, was sometime around Bad.
Radio stations have been playing his songs constantly since yesterday evening. This morning I got in the car and on the radio was “Ben”. I found myself singing along and getting a bit teary eyed.
If they had gone next to “I’ll Be There” I would’ve probably had to pull over.
Truthfully I’m not sure that Michael Jackson’s death is any more sad than his strange transformation he made sometime between the late 80s and the end.
So while neither of them, for me, were a current regular figure in my entertainment experience, it still seems a different world today.