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The year was 1983. I was a black kid from Nebraska with a scholarship to attend a leading New England boarding school. I was so out of place in so many ways: Lower middle class among the wealthy, midwestern kid among children of the eastern elite, a democrat among the Reagan youth, religious among the not so much. A kid literally trying to make the grade. Wow the first year was pretty hard. Yet Michael Jackson was the coolest person in the world. He smashed the racial barrier on MTV. The most successful artist of his time. the biggest album of all time. Even Eddie Van Halen the reigning king of rock guitar played with him. Jackson belonged to me in a way he could not belong to ther other kids. His success was my success too. If he could make it, I could too.
I and the world would later hear the tales of his sad upbringing. We would hear the accusations of abuse which if true (which I suspect they were) made him an abuser in addition to being a victim. But that was later. Then he was the king of pop and for a while made my world a better place.
Rest in Peace. My you find the joy in the next life that seemed to allude you in this one.
