The next few days will be veritable tsunami of Michael Jackson memories, videos, analysis, with all those folks popping out of the woodwork to be good friends a day too late, and all the "I knew it would happen" hindsight psychics.
I think this is where I'm suppose to insert my particular poignant Michael Jackson memory but truely, his name always reminds me of a friend of mine, who I have long since lost track of but can't stop thinking of this morning.
Back in the last weeks of December 1980, I was working in a camera store with a great group of people, including Mikki McNaughton -our long-suffering manager who we teased incessantly about pretty much everything (that is another post in itself).
Any Beatle fan knows what December 8 1980 was like for us.
I remember being at the bottom of a dark pit, absolutely in shock, frozen with grief. To the point where I ran very close to not making it through, nor caring if I did.
And Mikki was so very, very kind, even though she wasn't part of that whole Beatles generation.
I remember her telling me that she understood, because she'd feel the same way if it was Michael Jackson, that he was her Lennon. That he had always been there, and it seemed as if they'd grown up together - and she'd be devastated if it had been him.
So now it is him. And I know where she's at. Been there, done that, and 29 years later, it's something I still avoid thinking about, 'cause it still hurts.
Dear dear Mikki - wherever you are - let me know if there's anything I can do to make this easier for you.
I think this is where I'm suppose to insert my particular poignant Michael Jackson memory but truely, his name always reminds me of a friend of mine, who I have long since lost track of but can't stop thinking of this morning.
Back in the last weeks of December 1980, I was working in a camera store with a great group of people, including Mikki McNaughton -our long-suffering manager who we teased incessantly about pretty much everything (that is another post in itself).
Any Beatle fan knows what December 8 1980 was like for us.
I remember being at the bottom of a dark pit, absolutely in shock, frozen with grief. To the point where I ran very close to not making it through, nor caring if I did.
And Mikki was so very, very kind, even though she wasn't part of that whole Beatles generation.
I remember her telling me that she understood, because she'd feel the same way if it was Michael Jackson, that he was her Lennon. That he had always been there, and it seemed as if they'd grown up together - and she'd be devastated if it had been him.
So now it is him. And I know where she's at. Been there, done that, and 29 years later, it's something I still avoid thinking about, 'cause it still hurts.
Dear dear Mikki - wherever you are - let me know if there's anything I can do to make this easier for you.
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