Monitor Data

I have never been a fan of pop. I have even mustered a selection of deprecatory words for its votaries. For this, season, Michael Jackson was never my idol. although like so many else, I was curious about a man who could strut backwards so fascinatingly and ever so gracefully. I was as intrigued about Jackson’s change of complexion, and I never really got to know how it happened. Some of his tunes were catchy and on occasion I caught myself humming them over in my head, thanks in considerable measure to my nephew, Andrei, who, as an elementary pupil, had quite a creditable collection of Jackson recordings and who insisted on playing them for my listening delight at a volume  that tested my eardrums to their limits. I joined the the idle curiosity of those who passed on accusations of molestation, harassment and exploitation to the equally idle without quite getting at the facts, content at hear-saying, repeating and embellishing insinuations of prurience.

But I was surprised at how badly I felt upon learning of his death. It would allow me a touch of class to be able to say that news to me, but that would be sheer pretense. While I have no plans of purchasing a ticket to the US, vigilant as I am over my meager savings, to join the ever-lengthening cue at Neverland, I will continue to follow the story as CNN, BBC and other rather reliable sources tell it, and with interest. And I know I am not alone. I was moved by one of CNN’s viewers who twittered his statement of loss. We will miss him, but he will in our hearts be forever moonwalking! That said a lot to me, about Michael Jackson, his great soul, and our great souls as well.