Death of a Celebrity, part II (Michael Jackson). They say the candle that burns twice as bright burns twice as fast. But what about the candle that both burns bright and tries to last? Michael Jackson, Elvis Presley, Heath Ledger and James Dean all died decades too early, but what separates Jackson from the others was his search for the elusive fountain of youth, a search that inevitably led to his downfall. We should remember Michael Jackson not only for his artistry, but also for his life, which showed us that fame and fortune can neither fulfill nor cast aside the demons that besiege us inside. Because of those demons he spent his whole life trying to become the person he wanted to be, instead of cultivating the person he already was. From his humble origins--quick, name 5 other famous people from Gary, Indiana--to his self-anointed throne as the King of Pop, no other person has ever influenced pop culture and provided the soundtrack for a generation as he did. Like others of my age, he was always with me. I danced to Billie Jean when no one was watching. I used Beat it as my anthem when I was picked on for being overweight child. I first felt the shiver of what it meant to fear when I saw his eyes change in Thriller. I struggled with my nascent sexuality during pubescence as I uncomfortably watched Dirty Diana. I found solace in You are not alone during times of unrequited love. And I spent hours on end trying to replicate that bad ass lean in Smooth Criminal. The candle that burns twice as bright burns twice as fast but sometimes all that remains after a fire that burns bright are smoke and whispers. Popcorn psychologists can guess all they want, but there is no doubt that his traumatic childhood played a role in his downfall from king to court jester, from prince to punchline. Stained at a young age by his upbringing, Michael was never happy with the person he was and refused to grow into adulthood. Over the years the smoke and whispers grew larger and louder as he tried to wrest control from his father and father time with his self-anointed royal claim as the king of pop, his military-style clothing, simian friends named Bubbles, a theme park-home named in homage to Peter Pan, straightening his hair, bleaching his skin, plastic surgery and turkey-baster pregnancies. Darkest of all were his prescription drug abuse and allegations of pedophilia. Whether or not he is guilty of the latter I do not know but I do know that he placed himself in that predicament because he obsessed so much about their innocence, an innocence he yearned to have, so much so that he refused to grow up. Many are saying that we should only hold onto Michael the artist and forget about the rest. However, to do so would be the true tragedy for while his voice and two fly feet made him soar like angels, it was his demons that made him mortal and human. There is as much we can learn from a hero's fall as his rise. Like Michael, we all have our demons, but we do not have to succumb to them. We can face the pain of our childhood without running. We can accept that life is finite and make the most of our time rather than living in fantasy. We can love ourselves for who we are and not who we are suppposed to be. So celebrate him for his heavenly voice, admire him for his indomitable swagger and worship him for his physics-bending dancing. But above all do not forget the abuse he suffered as a child at the hands of an overbearing father, the plunge into the deep, dark recesses of drug abuse, the improper affections that led to allegations of pedophilia and the child who did not like and incessantly tried to change the man he saw in the mirror, because to deny that is to deny the existence of the demons that besiege us all. It is my hope that some time in his last few moments that Michael found it in himself to love the man he was and not the child he lost. Rest in peace, Michael. You will not be forgotten. -------- Death of a Celebrity, part I is here. | 
