Personal Documentaries: Mixing family history with pop culture
When trying to capture someone's life story, it is natural to focus heavily on life's milestone moments, such as births, weddings, parenthood, anniversaries, etc. But sometimes a personality will be more revealing with occasional detours into trivial matters. Ever wonder what silent movies captivated your grandparents or great-grandparents? Or if your dad liked to sway his hips like Elvis?
For 20-something Ursula Kane, her descendants might be fascinated to learn that Michael Jackson's life and death went far beyond celebrity news. This certainly isn't "Where were you when you heard Kennedy was shot?" But it nevertheless had a deep personal impact.
My Generation's Elvis
By Ursula Kane
“Did you hear what happened?”
I had already missed a call from my older sister Dearbhla as I sat in my driveway on my way out to Target.
“Michael Jackson died!” she exclaimed down the phone.
“No, no, you’re way off. That was Farrah Fawcett,” I replied.
“No, Michael Jackson died like an hour ago from cardiac arrest,” she explained.
“What?!”
After exchanging plenty of I-can’t-I-just-can’t-believe-its, Derv hung up and left me sitting in my car, mystified but chuckling to myself at her parting words, “All right, I need to make a few calls.” She had obviously elected herself the official bearer of bad news.
But it made me want to call people too. Was I the only one who didn’t know? Did anyone know at all?
“Sorry, I know we just got off the phone, but I have to tell you something,” I told my boyfriend, whom I’d been chatting with minutes earlier.
He hadn’t known, and thanked me for telling him. He called out to his friends he was with to let them know. I had done my part in coaxing the sparks to a blaze. Now back to business.
Touching the iPod icon on my iPhone, I scrolled through the artists and made my selection. I was gonna belt it out for MJ. Now, I realize in the past three weeks Michael Jackson has made it onto millions of iPhones, iPods, and playlists, but I didn’t need him to die to jam to “Beat It” every day. Of course, I already had his songs. Of course, I know all the words. Obviously, I can’t pull off the dances with an ounce of grace or style, but I can tell you all the signature moves. (I had an excuse anyway. I was in my car.)
You see, I’m kind of an MJ fan.
My parents had the LPs and albums, and we all used to practice pulling our trousers up and standing on our tippy toes, striking his iconic pose. The first CD that I ever got was HIStory. I listened to it every day after school while playing Tetris. Alien Ant Farm released their rendition of “Smooth Criminal” in 2001, and I applauded the idea and wondered why no one had thought of it before.
This time last year at a 4th of July party, “Thriller” was played because it was a known fact my brother couldn’t fight the urge to move. “I just can’t control the bottom half of my body,” he shrugged, and danced alone for the entire 5 minutes and 57 seconds while the rest of us cheered him on. I know I wasn’t the only one who wanted to jump in.
So here I was thinking about all these childhood snippets, driving down the back roads – windows down, sun shining, MJ blaring. Definitely not the first time, definitely not the last, but it was definitive. Although he hadn’t done anything new in years, there was always the possibility of it, especially now being on the brink of a comeback tour. It was genuinely upsetting. Good thing Target was my destination; I needed some cheering up.
I wandered around and picked up a few items. From inside the dressing room, I heard someone mention what had happened, and I wanted to call out that I had heard as well but decided that might be dabbling a little too much in the awkward category for the poor girl – it was up there with the random conversation with the stranger in the adjacent bathroom stall.
Not to mention, this was an iffy one in itself. Not everyone had “Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’” in their Most Played Songs list on iTunes. You never really know what you’re getting when you dive into an MJ discussion, sort of like a box of chocolates as they say. By the time I got to the register, however, I was bursting to talk about it, and the cashier looked about my age so I figured there was no harm. She said she’d just heard and that it was a strange day with first Farrah and now Michael. I guess that’s all I really could’ve expected from generic retail talk, but at least it would tide me over for a bit.
Getting into the car, in the split second before switching back to my memorial playlist, I heard the all-familiar beats of the “Bad” chorus on the radio. They knew! They were acknowledging it! An announcement was made stating they were dedicating the rest of the night to Michael Jackson songs, and I’ll admit, it perked my spirits.
I made my way to a friend’s house where, despite my obvious need to talk about the same three repeating facts over and over again, she was unresponsive. Like I said, I know we can’t always draw the gooey caramel, but now I was getting antsy. My phone vibrated with a text message from Dearbhla, “Matty’s having an MJ tribute party tonight.” I declared I wasn’t staying much longer and stated why. Although my friend laughed at the supposed “lameness” of the event, she ran into her bedroom and presented me with one white glove to wear. Maybe she was just one of those hard caramels that needs a little softening to get to the good stuff. I know she knew this was going to be fun, for me at least, and the glove was just what I needed.
Jumping into my car, I glided to an even better target. Everyone at Matty’s house realized that regardless of all the scrutiny in his life, Michael Jackson is an icon and will go down a legend. Like myself, the people at this party still listened to his music and enjoyed the atmosphere in the room when it was on. The songs are upbeat, nostalgic, and great for singalongs. I don’t generally dance, but I’ll dance to Michael Jackson.
Most people across all generations would admit that it’s more of a struggle not to, and the rest apparently don’t like having a bit of a laugh. Even if Michael hadn’t died that day, his HIStory VHS would have been playing in this house at some point over the weekend. As my boyfriend said when I informed him of the gathering, “You guys have Michael Jackson tribute parties every week anyway.”
We really did I suppose. Michael was a staple for Friday nights. At some point I learned that Matty’s mum had called him that evening to see if he was ok. Although even he thought that was a bit much, I think it makes her a refreshing truffle in the MJ chocolate box.
We carried on into the wee hours justifying that “Michael would’ve wanted it this way.” He was our Elvis, our JFK, our Lennon. He gave us the moonwalk, the lean, and made zombies and short trousers look cool. Growing up during a time when a single person impacted the world so greatly in multiple ways is quite unique and inspiring compared with the two-week fads that traffic children’s minds today.
So yes, I’m kind of an MJ fan. I enjoy his music as well as the great times I have with my friends and family when it’s playing. In fact, there will be a Michael Jackson Tribute Party Take 2 in a couple of weeks in which everyone has to dress up in their favorite MJ outfit. No surprise that the planning for this was already in the works before he had died, so we can’t even use that as an excuse. Logically, we’ll blame it on the boogie.