Explaining Michael Jackson's death to the next generation fan

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.

First day of summer

The task now is to relax into the rhythm of the summer now that my kids are out of school. That's more of a problem for me than my kids. They seem to have it down. As we speak, my older son is immersed in his computer games while my younger son blasts a CD. Ah summer.

We tried to get into the spirit of things yesterday afternoon with a long walk into town for ice cream with two other families followed by a play date, then out for pizza. The parents sat outside enjoying a post-pizza beer, while the boys went running around playing their own version of hide and seek. We had some rare moments of sunshine before the sun dropped down into a pink sky and then twilight. I started to feel like it just might be summer.

Today we all were happily sleeping late before being woken by the blood curdling screams of my older son R. who was stung by a yellow jacket. My husband dispatched the offending bug and R. spent the rest of the morning on the couch. Is this a sign? Probably not. If anything it's a sign that summer isn't all strawberries and ice-cream but I think I knew that already.

I have a host of jobs to do around the house but I'm in a bit of a first day of vacation fog myself. I suddenly find myself unemployed for the summer after my class was canceled. That means I'm free to do all those projects on my plate, including writing. Unfortunately, I still find myself pulled in all directions: clean the house, hang out with the kids, work outside, plan the kids' birthday parties. My leisurely summer is never quite so leisurely as I imagine and maybe that's a good thing.