My younger son is a Michael Jackson fan. He discovered him himself through the magic of the Internet and something about his music and his dancing connected with him. One of his favorite presents at Christmas was "Thriller." (He also loved his Elvis CD. Go figure).
I liked Michael Jackson myself when I was about 12 and he was cute and had the same voice range as me. But in later years, he seemed to become more and more alien and I never doubted there was some truth to the rumors despite his being acquitted of child molestation. So I held my breath when my son went on the Internet to find out about Jackson. When he announced that he had been reading about him, I paused. "What did you find out?" I asked. "I found out he's been living in Europe and he's moving back to the United States." Phew.
Yesterday was W.'s birthday: the big 10. We went out to the Shore and spent the day at the beach in a rare afternoon of sunshine. Then we headed out to dinner. Everyone was talking about Jackson's death but my impulse was to shield my son. It was his birthday, after all, and I didn't want that particular black cloud to land on his birthday.
I'm sure he'll find out about Jackson's death today and I have that same uneasy feeling. I know he'll want to watch some of the coverage but I hate for him to find out about Jackson's darker side. It makes me queasy and I know he'd be disillusioned to find out about this creepy chapter in his hero's life. Then we'd have to explain the whole thing to him when he doesn't even know the facts of life yet.
I'm sure there will be an endless tide of media coverage washing onto the shore and in the end, I probably can't protect my son. So we'll have to talk to him about Jackson's death. As for the rest of it, I'll wait to see what W. picks up. I'd rather he remember how talented Jackson was than to remember all that other stuff. Come to think of it, I'd rather remember him that way myself.
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